Archive of Our Own

It must be said that Chuuya takes no responsibility for any collateral damage he may have caused. It was a rough mission — he refused to be held accountable for following orders.

Mori gave it to them at the last possible second, waiting until barely an hour before they were meant to engage to inform Dazai and Chuuya of the assignment. He gave no justification on why he’d waited so long to tell them about the mission. Chuuya had a hunch that it was just to fuck with them.

There was a smuggling ring involving goods stolen from the Port Mafia. Nothing monumental, the boss had assured the two, but this gang had been repeatedly stealing valuables for months now.

“It seems my other subordinates have done a poor job of instilling fear of the Port Mafia. We cannot let this continue. You two are known for making a statement when wiping out such gangs. I trust that you’ll do the same tonight,” Mori had said.

A strong reminder to Yokohama of the consequences of messing with the mafia— that was what he wanted.

By “making a statement,” Chuuya had known exactly what was truly being asked of him. He was meant to fight loud and hard, to leave a physical impression of the Port Mafia’s might.

Chuuya needed to use Corruption.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been explicitly asked to do so — as explicit as instruction from Mori goes — and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Dread wormed into his bones with the same suffocating presence he felt whenever he had to wield this side of his ability. 

Despite that, Chuuya hadn’t refused. He couldn’t refuse, despite how much he wanted to. Even Dazai hadn’t tried to find another method in his own roundabout annoying way, unusually quiet as they made their way to rendezvous. 

That silence felt like a death sentence. It solidified that there was no way out of this but through.

What Mori had failed to mention in their meeting was just how many people were involved in the operation (which was probably on purpose, too). A couple hundred thugs to be dealt with, all armed to the teeth. That wouldn’t have been a big deal if there weren’t a handful of ability users hidden among them, taking them by surprise.

He tried not to grimace once his partner nodded towards him and he started to remove his gloves slowly. Dazai didn’t comment on his obvious prolonging of the inevitable, letting him take his time. Chuuya’s throat tightened as he uttered those wretched words.

As always, he was flung brutally into the throes of Corruption. Chuuya wasn’t entirely aware as he watched Arahabaki pilot his body, registering the vague discomfort as his powers stretched beyond his limits.

It was far too long until the cooling touch of No Longer Human washed over him. He didn’t even bat an eye at the amount of destruction surrounding him as his senses trickled back in. 

The excruciating pain of being destroyed from the inside out hit him full force and he gasped, falling to the ground amongst all the debris. A flash of black invaded his vision before he lost consciousness.

When Chuuya awoke next, the first thing he felt was absolute agony spanning his entire body. The next thing he noticed was the hard surface he was lying atop of. It dug into his bones uncomfortably.

Cracking a bloody eye open, he was immediately blinded by fluorescent lighting. He tried to bring his arms up to shield him from the brightness, but the shocking pain shooting up his limbs prevented any movement.

Someone must’ve been reading his mind, because the lights started to dim. Chuuya opened his eyes once more, which had been squeezed shut at some point in the process, to see a blurry figure to his left. It grew closer until there was a sudden contraction in his lungs. 

Arahabaki was not happy with him, it seemed. He tried to make a sound, to tell it to stop, but he wasn’t sure if he was successful over the ringing in his ears.

A rush of cold invaded him. He knew this feeling. It was Dazai. Dazai was here to put him back together again. 

Chuuya tried to force himself to relax. Dazai was here, so maybe things would be okay. The world faded in and out of focus as he was presumably patched up. He voluntarily relinquished awareness of the situation for as long as he could.

That was, until sensation started to return to his limbs once more and he began to understand what was causing the coolness. There was a hand on his bare chest. 

There was a hand. Touching his bare chest.

Chuuya knew by now what a cold hand directly on his skin meant.

He tried to escape — or move at all — but his entire body was on fire. Scalding waves of white hot lightning struck whenever he twitched away. His nerves were alight with the sheer amount of input they were receiving from every angle.

Of course, there was no running away from this. It was silly to even act like he had a choice to begin with. The only thing Chuuya could ever do in this situation was let it happen. He hated himself for it, hated how weak it made him feel, but fighting always made things worse.

Still, his limbs shook uncontrollably in spite of his efforts to remain still. His throat vibrated as whimpers escaped his lips without his consent.

He was in trouble. He was going to be punished.

The hand resting along his ribcage twitched before leaving entirely. Mori was drawing it out today. 

“Please—” 

Chuuya spoke before he could stop himself. Maybe if he begged, it wouldn’t be as bad. 

The word escaped him again. Then again. And again and again–

The teen was reduced to desperately pleading, praying for mercy he knew he wouldn’t receive. He wondered what the Sheep would think if they saw him now. 

Pathetic.

“Stay still, my dear. You’re making this harder for yourself. I’m only trying to help.”

Mori’s voice echoed from every direction. It was hard to see where he was, location covered by the blood infiltrating his vision, but Chuuya knew the man was simply waiting for the perfect moment to pounce and catch him off guard.

“Don’t be shy,” Mori purred, “I don’t bite.”

Chuuya cried out as it suddenly became impossible to take a proper breath. Mori must’ve wrung his hands around his neck at some point.It was so hard to breathe around the constricting pressure. As he struggled to find air, he felt himself spiraling deeper and deeper into that helpless state. His head spinning, he couldn’t tell left from right.

The world around him contorted, imposing over him with every breath he failed to take. Chuuya sobbed so hard he started gagging, vision fading in and out. 

Time stretched on for an eternity before the dark spots finally started overtaking his sight. When things started to fade to black, the only thing he felt was relief.

Maybe the next time he woke up, Chuuya would finally be left alone.

Dazai stared at the limp body in the tub.

What the fuck.

He was frozen in place

What the hell just happened?

His brain was running at a mile a minute as he tried to gather his thoughts.

The slug had always struggled when it came to medical scrutiny, despite his attempts to hide it behind a brash attitude. He became a different person as soon as they stepped foot into the medical bay of the Port Mafia, hence the decision to deal with whatever wasn’t life threatening in their own apartment.

Dazai could sympathize with the apprehension to some extent. Although, his hesitance took root in having any procedure in which he had to go under. One too many “surgeries” undergone by Mori’s hands left him uncomfortable with the possibilities of what someone could do to him while Dazai was unaware. 

Where his hesitance both started and ended there, he was well aware that Chuuya’s ran much deeper. Dazai supposed that growing up as a lab experiment could do that to a person, despite his partner’s insistence that he had no memories from that period.

The body remembers what the mind doesn't, after all.

In the aftermath of using Corruption, the combination of disorientation and pain it left Chuuya spurred him to become a significantly more difficult patient. The present and past mixed together to distort into a confusing haze of panic as the older teen struggled to distinguish what was real. Dazai was able to take it in stride and was usually able to calm him down enough to be somewhat compliant with a few occasional hiccups along the way. 

Never had it flung Chuuya into a full-blown flashback before. So why now? What was different about today that warranted such an extreme reaction so abruptly. His skin itched with the desire to understand.

The scene he just witnessed was painting a picture that left his stomach twisting into knots. It displayed itself in his head in blurry shapes, lines unfinished and direction a mere suggestion. Dazai was missing something important, he just didn’t know what.

His finger twitched. His arm jerked up. Then back down. 

A low whimper reached his ears.

Right. Chuuya was still here. Unconscious and beaten up, but he was here nonetheless. 

The blurry image painting itself in his head was wrapped up and placed in a box. He sealed it tightly. The box was pushed to the back of his mind. That could be dealt with later. Right now, Chuuya needs him. That was the most pressing concern.

With an unsteady gait, he walked back over to his partner. If it wasn’t for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, Chuuya would’ve looked like nothing more than a lifeless body. A corpse lying still in the bathroom tub.

He stuffed that thought into another box and kicked it as far away as he could. Bile rose in the back of his throat. Dazai swallowed it down.

The motions of cleaning the blood off of the other teen and stitching him back together were automatic, done so many times by now that it required no thought. 

That was good. Dazai didn’t want his mind to wander.

It was a brisk and efficient process, only pausing whenever Chuuya gave some indication of discomfort in his collapsed state. By the time Dazai was finished, the shorter teen was covered in bandages and bruises that rivalled his own. The white gauze was complimented by his ghostly pallor, bright hair even more prominent than usual.

One task done. Focus on completing the next one. Don’t think about anything else.

Dazai went to pick up the newly cleaned Chuuya. As soon as he made contact, the bandages were stained with red.

He looked down to see his hands covered in blood. His shirt wasn’t any better. None of the blood was his own. It hadn’t been there before Chuuya released corruption. There was a considerable amount of it given how tiny he was. Dazai tore off the swaths of bandages around his forearm and threw it away without looking.

The cold metal of the faucet handle was grounding. Cakey blood was scraped off layer by layer, dried sections breaking into small flecks in the sink. The clear water was tinted pink as it trickled down the drain in tie-dyed swirls.

Now a little cleaner, Dazai carried Chuuya over to his bedroom, wasting no time slipping his short arms and legs into comfortable clothing before going to change into his own. When he came back, the older teen had already curled up impossibly small atop his mattress, dwarfed even more by the oversized shirt Dazai put him into.

How someone with such a large personality could take up such minimal space was beyond him.

With a sigh that was exceedingly dramatic considering his unconscious audience, he manhandled his partner until he was properly under his covers and in a position that seemed more comfortable. 

Chuuya was already going to be pissy from the leftover aches of Corruption, Dazai didn’t want to add to the list of complaints that he was already going to be forced to listen to tomorrow.

When he was settled, he watched as the redhead immediately bundled himself in with a soft sigh through his nose. Chibi really was getting princess treatment tonight. He better be grateful when he wakes up.

Exhaustion started to crawl into Dazai’s bones and made a nest within them. He floated back to his room, leaving Chuuya’s door open a crack. 

Despite his tiredness, it took many hours before sleep claimed Dazai into its cold hands. He fell into a sleep haunted by streaks of red and quiet pleas that weren’t meant for him.

After one too many times blinking his eyes open after disconcerting dreams, Dazai decided that the sun peaking through the curtains indicated it was at least a somewhat decent hour to get his day started.

With exhaustion so bone-deep that uneasy sleep would never be enough remedy, he trudged into the bathroom. Brushing his teeth and showering to remove the blood — Chuuya’s blood — that seeped through his bandages were mechanical tasks, as was wrapping himself back up.

A few hours were wasted in the living room, scrolling through pointless shows on the television that would never stave his boredom. He didn’t even make it through a full episode of whatever was on before giving up and switching on the news.

There was nothing like starting the morning with stories of gang violence and drug busts.

Sharp ears narrowed onto the sound of movement down the hall. The sleeping beauty must finally be awake. He shut off the television, creeping down the foyer.

Dazai pushed the slug’s door, planning on opening his mouth to give him a thunderous greeting — coupled with banshee yelling and throwing of pillows — before pausing. There wasn’t anything tangible to cause the hard stop, but he hadn’t survived the last sixteen years of his life without trusting his instincts.

Take a step back and assess the situation. Let your environment educate your decision. That’s how you find a way to cut deeper.

The thought sounded suspiciously like Mori. Disgusting.

Most of Chuuya was hidden under his unnecessarily fluffy comforter, only a shock of red hair on his pillow indicating he was there at all. He didn’t appear to be in any distress, thankfully.

The blanket lump wriggled. Maybe he should consider changing Chuuya’s nickname from slug to worm, Dazai mused idly.

“By the mass, this is a sight most wondrous! The princess hath awoken from his slumber!” Dazai proclaimed theatrically, placing the back of his hand on his forehead and throwing his head back. 

A face peeked out from the cave. Instead of the expected scowl in response to the boisterous entrance, there was a light frown sitting on Chuuya’s lips.

That’s interesting. He needed more data.

“Pray tell, my darling dog, share with me thy ailments.”

Red eyebrows furrowed as he took considerable time to process the request. Delicate lips opened, before closing again. There was a certain shine over those eyes, one he’d seen before.

Ah. It seems his interrogation about last night would have to wait until later.

Dazai was learning to recognize that film over cerulean eyes. The Chibi was regressing. He wasn’t fully under yet, likely fighting the mental battle as he spoke, but the brunette would make sure he lost the fight.

In a few long strides, he parked himself near the foot of the bed. His closer view revealed that Chuuya still looked like shit. His face was still starkly pale and his body moved sluggishly as he sat up.

“Feeling any better today?”

It was more direct than his usual check up routine. A hunch told him brevity was a better approach at the moment.

Apparently, his directness wasn’t going to be given the appreciation it deserved, since Chuuya simply shrugged in response.

“Then is the slug maybe up for eating?”

Dazai hoped this wouldn’t be a nausea day for the other teen. Post-Corruption symptoms varied each time, but he reckoned that spending the afternoon hunched over a toilet wouldn’t be conducive to a positive regression experience.

The question was answered with another shrug.

Tough crowd.

“Okay,” he drawled.

He wondered if Chuuya hadn’t realized where his mind was at yet. Even when freshly awoken, the slug was normally quick to snap back with snarky comments during Dazai’s check-in. This brand of silence didn’t occur without its pair.

The brunette extended his hand towards his partner. He eyed it warily.

“Let’s go get some food. Come on.”

Chuuya continued to glare at the open palm with a frown. He was acting like it was going to jump out and bite him or something equally stupid. It wasn’t surprising when he opted to ignore the offering, swinging short legs over the bed and moving to stand independently.

Dazai got up, hovering nearby when he saw his partner sway on his feet. Chuuya stumbled unevenly to the kitchen, slumping into the first chair he could reach. His legs had seemed one step away from buckling.

Pretending to not pay attention, the bandaged teen assessed the fridge for something light and easy to digest. 

He spotted leftover white rice. At the very least, he could make some tea to pour on top of it. That would be simple enough for a sensitive stomach.

Chazuke it is, then.

Chuuya remained silent while Dazai flitted around the area, not even bothering to look over to see what he was doing.

It was much easier to work in the kitchen without an annoying dog breathing down his neck and barking at every mistake he made. He made no claim to be amazing at cooking, but Dazai was perfectly capable of not burning the building down when he put his mind to it, thank you very much.

One stain on his sleeve and a few minutes later, two bowls of steaming ochazuke were placed on the dining table. He placed the bowl with a significantly larger portion in front of Chuuya, taking the half-full one himself. The slug ate a lot for his size, after all.

Taking a bite, he nodded to himself. The dish was plain, just the broth and rice without any extra toppings — but it wasn’t half bad, if Dazai said so himself.

Chuuya was yet to make a move to eat. He stared at the bowl in front of him, looking lost. As soon as he noticed the taller teen staring at him, his expression reset into a poor facsimile of his normal scowl.

Shaking hands wrapped around the metal chopsticks and attempted to grab the rice. Chuuya wasn’t able to grab anything the first time, which prompted a peeved sigh through his nose. He was able to get a few grains on his second attempt. The chopsticks moved up, but he couldn’t seem to keep a grip on the actual food.

His lips became more downturned than before, frowning genuinely this time. Another failed try, and then again after that.

Dazai didn’t flinch when the chopsticks fell onto the table, hitting the bowl with a resounding clatter. He didn’t flinch when Chuuya’s chair scraped harshly against the floor either.

Chuuya put his head in his hands and hunched over. The silence was broken only by muffled, heavy breaths.

Food forgotten, Dazai moved to sit at the chair next to him. He scooted himself closer until their legs were almost touching.

“Chuuya’s body is still recovering from last night. It’s fine if he needs someone to take care of him.”

The teen shook his head jerkily in denial and pulled his legs up to his chest. The beginnings of a breakdown were making their appearance. 

“I’m not going to leave you. You’ve had such a hard day,” he cajoled, “I want to help, if you’ll let me.”

Chuuya hiccuped while shaky fists rubbed away at the tears that were forming. Every minuscule movement ached. He was regretting getting up at all — all he wanted now was to curl up and lay still until things felt better.

The urge to go back to bed was strong, but so was the desire to let Dazai take care of him. They clashed in his mind. His head pounded more.

It could have just been the enticing pull of regression that was starting to win over, but… Chuuya didn’t want to be alone. Just the thought of it made his throat tighten. Plus, Dazai never offered to do something if he didn’t want to, so his offer had to be at least somewhat true.

Maybe it was okay to accept help. Only until he feels better.

Like leaves falling off of an autumn tree, Chuuya dropped the rest of the way into his headspace. The haze settled around him gently, so slight that it took him a second to identify.

The tears he’d been holding back since the beginning started pouring out. Chest constricting, he let out a pathetic whimper.

“There he is. I was wondering when you’d finally come out,” Dazai’s voice reached his ears, “You’re okay, Chibi.”

Before Dazai could even fully open his arms, Chuuya was diving headfirst into him. He scrabbled at his chest as if he was a man frantically searching for water in a desert. Dazai wrapped his arms around the shorter boy, letting him take the time he needed to understand that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He let him cry it out for a bit, remaining a steady presence and rocking them slowly. They were quiet tears, nothing like the intensity of last night. It seemed more a form of regulation.  The little clearly needed it, weeping softly in his arms and leaning against Dazai.

His sternum ached with something soft as they sat, waiting to calm down a bit more. Did being little amplify Chuuya’s emotions, or was he regularly this anxiety-ridden on days like these?

“Poor chibi’s going to get dehydrated if those tears keep running. Let’s try eating again, shall we?”

There was no verbal response, but Chuuya’s head poked out from where it was stuffed into his shoulder. The gloss over his eyes was undeniable now.

Adjusting the shorter boy to sit in his lap properly, Dazai grabbed the chopsticks and picked up a few grains of rice. He brought it to Chuuya’s mouth, guiding him to open and swallow it. The lack of resistance about being fed cemented the fact that he’d fully sunk in.

“That’s it. Chuuya’s doing so well, just letting me take over so he can just focus on being the little slug that you are.”

Dazai heard Chuuya sigh softly, slumping further into his lap. Good. Hopefully, it would distract him from the lingering aches that he was still feeling.

After a few bites, they found a steady rhythm. The process was slow, but Dazai was content to let his partner take his time. After all, they had the day off, so there wasn’t anything pressing to do for the rest of the day. They continued until the chopsticks scraped the bottom of the bowl. Chuuya didn’t complain, chewing idly on his final bite.

“Look at that — you finished the whole thing without an upset stomach! Good job, tiny chibi.”

Dazai didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, murmuring the saccharine praise on instinct. He didn’t cringe from how overly saccharine the words tasted on his tongue once they emerged. It was foreign, but not unpleasant.

It was worth it to see the way Chuuya wiggled in response to the praise, forming the closest thing to a smile Dazai had seen from him in far too long. The movement caused his shirt to slip off some, revealing a delicate shoulder covered in bandages. Many were a discolored brown from day-old blood. Dazai knew from experience that those stains tended to be paired with an uncomfortable stiffness that scratched unbearably along bare skin.

The question, then, was how he could change the gauze without adding to the growing river of tears the chibi had created the past few hours.

His eyes wandered to the knotted hair splayed across a bandaged neck. It was probably also dirtied with blood and dirt that Chuuya despised, taking such pride in his stupid red hair that he kept it clean with ridiculously lavish products and—

Oh. Maybe that would work.

Try as he might to deny it, Dazai knew how much his partner liked having his hair washed and played with. 

Perhaps a bath was in order. He thought back to his recent purchases and smirked. As usual, he had prepared for a similar scenario far in advance.

“I think it may be time to clean up some, hm?”

That was the only warning he gave before scooping Chuuya up, depositing the dishes into the sink to wash later. Dazai noted with displeasure that minute tremors were running through the boy in his arms, so slight he almost didn’t notice. It could’ve been due to any mixture of physical exhaustion and anxiety, but there was no telling the real reason. 

The only thing he could do was tighten his hold as he made his way to the bathroom.

Chuuya was deposited onto the seat of the toilet while he fiddled with the plug for the drain and turned on the water. Dazai knew that his partner liked his water scalding, the heathen, but he was hesitant to turn up the heat all the way. He opted for finding a temperature just shy of hot that would be alright for his sensitive skin.

As he rummaged in the drawers under the sink, he felt a confused gaze on him. With a soft aha, Dazai emerged with his treasure.

In his hands was a lathering soap. It was lavender-scented, supposedly calming if his internet searches were true. The smell hit his nose as he poured it into the rising water, pleasantly unobtrusive. It was actually quite nice. 

He found superfluous self care items like these to be unnecessary, but he knew that Chuuya ate this kind of stuff up.

And if it was just an excuse to give the baby a bubble bath, well. Dazai would claim plausible deniability.

Then came the most important part. A hand swirled the liquid and it quickly started lathering. He continued until an acceptable amount of bubbles sat layered above the water.

“Ta-da! One bubble bath for the Chibi,” Dazai gestured with an energy that wasn’t entirely faked. 

That energy faltered as he turned around to see that Chuuya just looked… a tad confused, honestly.

Surely, the slug had at least heard of a bubble bath. Right?

His shoulders dropped as he realized that his partner was entirely lost as to what was going on. Forgotten childhood or not, Chuuya must’ve been living under a rock to have not heard of a damn bubble bath. Even Dazai was aware of their existence and he was the sworn enemy of relaxation.

Absolutely unacceptable. He’d failed as a partner.

Well, that would be changing now. Dazai dug his energy back up to fix his faltering smile and tried again, “Chuuya needs to wash up, but I had the brilliant idea to change it up and try something a bit different.”

He grandly gestured to the growing foam in the tub. His partner still looked unimpressed.

Even as a kid Chuuya was a harsh judge apparently. Damn.

Dazai made a hand to start taking off the chibi’s oversized shirt, but the other boy shrank away before he could. He frowned.

“It’s just like a normal bath. I’ll make sure you won’t drown under all those bubbles, promise.”

The words said out loud weren’t as reassuring as it sounded in his head, given the way Chuuya frowned. Dazai was aware that his partner already had some issues when it came to being underwater. Hopefully he didn’t unlock a new fear just now. 

The newfound worry gave Dazai an opportunity to start removing the shorter boy’s clothing, who wasn’t much help. He gingerly unwrapped the bandages, taking care to be extra gentle where wounds remained aggravated.

Soft winces where dried blood made the gauze stick to tender skin were blanketed by a whispered apology before moving on to get Chuuya standing. He did the same with his lower body, trying to move even slower than before.

It wouldn’t do to spook Chuuya before he even got to the fun part.

Dazai looked up periodically to check for signs of tears and found none. The little was stiff throughout the process, but stayed mostly quiet.

After the tedious task, he walked his dog to the tub and lifted him in. Chuuya stood in the water awkwardly, looking at Dazai as if asking for guidance.

“Sit down, the water doesn’t bite,” he assured with a downward wave of his wrist.

Chuuya struggled as he lowered himself into the bath. Dazai ended up helping him down, not liking the way bruised knees seemed on the verge of giving out without support. Maybe he was hovering, but Dazai wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to make sure the slug didn’t drown. 

There was little fanfare as Chuuya got situated, though it was unusual for Dazai to offer assistance without his dog barking and complaining. The only sound was the sloshing of the water. He wasn’t sure if little Chuuya was too skittish to say anything or if he was just quiet when regressed. 

Regardless, he took a step back to let the chibi discover the wondrous world of bubble baths.

Chuuya sat idly in the tub. The water was just shy of hot. It felt nice on his aching muscles. 

Tentatively, he reached his hand out from under the water to give an experimental poke at the bubbles. They were soft, similar to the way he used to imagine clouds would feel. Compared to the vague moisture he felt when flying through the clouds with Upon the Tainted Sorrow, this was much more tangible.

He blinked in surprise as a few popped upon his touch, shattering into a spray of invisible mist as it burst. The only evidence left was a few shiny droplets on his fingers.

This time with more confidence, he reached out again. The same thing happened, a near inaudible pop sounding when the pads of his fingers touched them.

His lips twitched. This was exciting.

Chuuya scooped up the foam with his whole hand. Many of the bubbles sat in his hand, squishy and foamy on his palm. They made a nice fizzling noise when he tilted his ear toward his hands. He continued on, enjoying the new sensation. At some point, Dazai had moved close by with some unknown motive.

“Take a look at this.” 

That was all the warning he got. Chuuya watched, bemused, as he took a pile of foam in his bandaged hands and blew on it.

What happened next had him in awe.

Suddenly, bubbles were flying all around him. They shone with an almost rainbow hue as they floated in the air. Some popped from the pressure, but many glided down with the gentle elegance of a falling feather. Chuuya’s eyes widened at the display. He didn’t believe in magic, but this seemed like something close.

Right then and there, Chuuya decided he liked bubble baths. He never knew how much he’d been missing out on until now. No wonder Dazai was shocked at his previous confusion. 

“Having fun?”

Chuuya nodded rapidly, trying to convey his agreement. This was very fun.

He felt the urge to share his gratitude with the taller teen, but he wasn’t sure how to find the words to do so.

Instead, he turned to Dazai and smiled up at him. It wasn’t forced at all, the excitement carrying over and squinting from how wide it was.

He didn’t notice the way that Dazai choked on his next breath. The brunette felt like he’d been kicked in the chest from how quickly the air escaped his lungs. 

There was no way not to stop at the sight. Despite the pain he must’ve been in, the boy was wearing the largest smile Dazai had seen from him. Chuuya’s body was beaten to hell and back, sickly blues and purples contrasted by the shimmering bubbles reminiscent of stained glass. He looked like an artwork in the flesh, the kind of thing he could only imagine in a dream.

It was something otherworldly.

The image burned into his retinas. He made the effort to embed it into his brain, even with his photographic memory.

Dazai didn’t trust that he wouldn’t lose this, but at least he could guarantee to never forget it.

Swallowing thickly, he smiled back. It was crooked and slight, yet just as genuine as Chuuya’s. It seemed to satisfy the little, who resumed his shenanigans in the water.

Small hands cupped at more foam, bringing a few suds to his mouth to supposedly try blowing it the same way. Some of it made contact with his open mouth and Chuuya jerked back. His face scrunched up adorably and he stuck his tongue out to get rid of the soapy taste.

The taller teen huffed in amusement at the reaction. 

“My chibi is so silly,” Dazai lilted. Hearing it aloud, he realized the implications of the wording.

Chuuya refused to be labeled under anyone, despite Dazai’s repeated dog jokes. But like this, the possessive term felt right.

His chibi. His little.

This was a scene shared between only the two of them. It was trust, to allow themselves to be so vulnerable. The thought thawed his frozen heart and mended some of its cracks.

The significance was not lost on Chuuya, who glanced back up with wide eyes. Dazai’s words felt like a promise. He held onto it tightly, basking in the warmth of having someone to care for him after so long. His excitement escaped him as he kicked under the water, listening to it slosh around in the bath.

Chuuya continued playing for some time, never getting bored of the endless entertainment provided by the mountainous array of foam. A decent amount of the leftover dirt and blood had been carried away thanks to the strong soap, but his snarled hair stood out in a way that was just begging to be fixed.

Dazai sat at the ledge of the tub, uncaring of the way his clothes became damp as he settled. He was reluctant to interrupt, but figured the water was likely growing cold at this point.

With an inviting pat at the porcelain rim, he invited Chuuya to move closer.

“I’m gonna wash your hair now, okay?” 

The question was met with a hum, which was close enough to an agreement not to freak out as soon as he touched Chuuya’s head in Dazai’s book. The brunette guided his chin up, filling a cup with bath water and pouring it onto damp hair. Sensitive eyes were shielded by large hands as the water trickled down.

The delightful sensation of his scalp getting massaged elicited a weak hum. Chuuya tilted his head back further, chasing the feeling. It was so nice that he ignored Dazai’s chuckle at the action. As long as he continued his motions, Chuuya didn’t care if he was being teased.

Delicate fingers skillfully ran through frizzed knots, separating them before running it through with a hairbrush. Such gentle ministrations left him boneless.

He listened to the gentle timber of Dazai’s voice, not caring to distinguish what might’ve been said. Chuuya’s eyes had fluttered shut at some point, sleep beckoning him through the relaxation.

If he had the choice, Chuuya would’ve remained there forever. Sadly, those calloused hands betrayed him by lifting him out of the drugging heat that surrounded him like a blanket. The temperature difference had him immediately shivering and he must’ve made some noise of dissent because a hushing sound came from behind.

The fluffy towel made for a poor replacement of the bath, but he didn’t have the energy to properly protest. The only thing he could do was huddle against the warm body holding him up. 

A whimper or two may have escaped as he was dried off and wrapped in gauze that reminded him of the wounds still festering in his skin. They were then covered with loose shorts. Chuuya focused on listening to the steady beating of Dazai’s heart, pressing his cheek against a bony chest. He felt it rumble as the teen spoke, but didn’t care to listen to what he was actually saying.

He regretted not listening when he was pulled away from the chest, suddenly blinded by fabric all around him. He hiccuped as he was suffocated, even more when Dazai barely seemed alarmed.

“Oh relax, I’m just putting on your shirt,” came the amused voice above him, “you’re acting like I’m trying to kill you or something.”

Chuuya didn’t quite get all that, but if Dazai was calm then there was probably no need to be worried. It wasn’t long until he could see again, t-shirt pulled onto his torso. A deep inhale and the scent of Dazai was all around him. Given the way the shirt reached down to mid-thigh, Chuuya realized that he was wearing his partner’s shirt.

It engulfed his upper body, sleeves covering his hands. The size difference made him feel tiny and he sunk deeper into the feeling.

The sleeve was nice to chew on, too.

He let himself be manhandled this time, distracted by the new comforts. The only thing missing was…

A quick scan of the room told Chuuya that his plushie wasn’t here. He hadn’t seen it all day, now that he thought of it. Where had it been left?

“What’s wrong, slug?”

It was too hard to figure out how to string the right sounds together to explain. Chuuya attempted to do so, but all that came out was a slurred jumble that was further muffled by the sleeve in his mouth.

Dazai rocked them back and forth as he tried to understand what was causing the abrupt frenzy. The redhead had been fine before jerking back and looking around frantically.

“Is something hurting?” Dazai asked.

Chuuya whined and shook his head, pawing with his free hand at the taller teen’s chest with increasing distress before pushing him away.

“Are you hungry?”

That obviously wasn’t what the boy wanted to hear because he quickly started to cry. Dazai’s own throat spasmed as he tried not to spiral himself. The sight of tears starting to slide down his face wasn’t surprising.

He didn’t know what was wrong. The worry was beginning to make him panic, too. Dazai wracked his brain to figure out the problem. No pain, no hunger, so maybe something was triggering? This wasn’t lining up with flashback symptoms, though.

It was frustrating for the both of them — the inability to communicate and accordingly understand. The agitation was clear to see on the little’s face. He was backed up against the wall, wobbling as he sank down onto the floor. When Dazai moved forward to close the distance, Chuuya jerked back violently.

“No!” 

Chuuya shook his head repeatedly, tugging harshly at his hair while rocking back and forth. He was hysteric, heart-wrenching sobs echoing through the bathroom.

“Okay Chuuya. Okay,” Dazai tried to sooth, holding his hands up, “no touch. Got it.”

It didn’t seem to help, gasps plummeting closer to full-on hyperventilating. Each heave caused his chest to constrict and sounded physically painful. If this continued, Chuuya was in danger of passing out again. Dazai watched helplessly, close to breaking down himself at this point.

“I— I don’t understand. I’m not— I don’t know how to help, I’m sorry,” he stuttered, voice cracking. His eyes were burning. Dazai blinked forcefully, trying to clear the sting that made his vision blur.

This wasn’t like the panic attack Chuuya had when he broke that glass. At least back then he was somewhat responsive to Dazai’s voice and touch to help ground him. Try as he might, Dazai wasn’t enough in this situation. The thought ached, but he wasn’t keen on trying to approach him again and make things worse.

Use that fucking brain of yours for once and fix the damn problem already. The command sounded like the chibi, aggressive and loud as it bounced through his head.

His eyes roamed around, looking for an answer on rickety tile walls. He looked back to the last bit of soap that hadn’t made it down the drain of the tub. It looked like melted snow. With it, came the first useful thought he’d had since this whole debacle began.

Chuuya was tactile. Without touch as an anchor, he floated away or spiraled deep. He wasn’t letting Dazai close right now. Something else would have to do the job for him.

Turning on his heel, Dazai all but ran out of the bathroom. He wasted no time grabbing a soother from his room before going to his partner’s bedroom. 

The wails could be heard through the walls, spurring him to move faster. In a frenzy, he dug through Chuuya’s drawer until he found spotted fabric of a toy dog. Dazai snatched it up, grabbing the grey blanket folded on the bed on his way out. He rushed back in, nearly tripping over the stupid blanket he was holding as he pushed through the door. 

Chuuya had pushed himself into the corner, curled up impossibly small, even for his stature. His face was hidden against his knees. The sight had his stomach twisting in knots. Dazai bit the inside of his mouth hard enough to bleed before taking tentative steps forward.

He crouched down so that there was still some distance between them, though the little hadn’t appeared to register Dazai's brief trip out the bathroom. It was far enough that he had to reach over to reach Chuuya, gently placing the blanket so it was barely covering his ankles. The redhead flinched at the sensation, but thankfully didn’t seem to get any more upset.

Or maybe he was so deep in his panic he simply couldn’t fall any further.

Dazai started humming, to sooth both himself and Chuuya, while he shook the plush a few times. The beads made their usual soft sandy sound, like a quiet rattle. He pretended his hand was steady while he waved.

Please, he begged internally, please let something work. Anything.

He moved the toy closer until it brushed against the edge of the blanket, then up to a small hand. The effect wasn’t immediate. For a moment, Dazai thought that there was no way to get through.

The clenched fingers loosened around damp hair. They twitched as soft fabric brushed against the back of his hand. Blue eyes peaked out, if only barely. They looked closer to a cloudy grey in the dim lighting, water pouring down his face like rain on a stormy night.

To prevent ruining the incremental shift, Dazai didn’t say anything. A heavy stare followed his arm down, tracing the movements as he placed the doll as close to Chuuya as possible without actually touching him.

Despite the loud cries that continued to overpower the sound, he kept humming.

Chuuya’s entire figure was trembling so intensely that it took him several tries to coordinate his hand to move toward the item. He shuddered when he came in contact with it, fingers failing to properly grip it. In the end, he only laid his hand atop of it, unable to do anything more. 

His next breath was little more than a reedy gasp, but it was better than before.

He was eventually able to fumble around enough to get the plush into his lap. With it pressed between his chest and thighs, Chuuya resumed his rocking. The self-soothing seemed to be more effective with the extra comfort items, no longer fighting for every inhale. 

The wordless tune vibrating in his throat never once paused, fidgeting with the pacifier in his hand in an uncharacteristic show of nerves the teen rarely allowed himself to indulge in.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Dazai scooted closer to the boy. He paused when his foot found the edge of the blanket, not daring to move farther, despite his urge to close the distance. His gut was screaming at him to move, to protect his little, but he forced himself to remain still.

Chuuya will come when he’s ready. That was alright — Dazai didn’t mind waiting.

No matter how long it took, he would always wait for his partner.

By the time his back was starting to ache from their position on the floor, Chuuya glanced over once more. The furrow in his brows told Dazai that he was surprised to see the taller teen still nearby.

“I’m right here, Chibi. I’m not going anywhere,” Dazai murmured. He didn’t speak any louder to not ruin the calm atmosphere he worked to create, “Can I come to you?”

Chuuya only hiccuped, shuddering around the plush that was almost wholly out of sight from the limbs encompassing it. It wasn’t a clear answer.

“Chuuya,” that got his attention again, “I’m not going to move closer until you tell me it’s okay.”

At that, he got a single, jerky nod. The assertion was all Dazai needed to approach until he was close enough to snake an arm around his partner. Chuuya tilted sideways into the touch until the side of his head came in contact with Dazai’s chest, letting the brunette wrap him in a loose hold. 

With his partner in his arms, something unfurled in Dazai’s sternum. He rested his chin on Chuuya’s head, listening to soft weeping and brushing his hand through damp hair. They remained there for a while, encompassing one another with the rest of the world blocked out.

Over time, Chuuya started pitching further and further to the side. It wasn’t long until he was leaning his full body weight against Dazai, who was more than happy to support. His breaths were still uneven, hiccuping from the previous strength of his tears, but he had gotten significantly calmer. The difference was stark.

It wasn’t until Dazai heard the telltale exhale of a yawn did he start to speak, “It sounds to me like it’s time for a nap.”

Chuuya made a soft noise in his chest that he interpreted as an agreement. Wrangling the boy’s fatigued limbs took a bit of finagling, since he was trying to cling as close as possible throughout the process while simultaneously holding onto two other items. Dazai eventually figured it out, lifting him up and leaving the bathroom without a second glance back.

No more bubble baths for a while, he decided.

It was impossible to deposit his partner onto the bed. Chuuya was insistent on staying wrapped around him like a koala.

“Chibi needs to nap now, remember?”

Dazai was met with pleading eyes and lips jutted out in a pout. Seeing that face, he finally understood what people meant by pulling “puppy eyes.” The term seemed stupid until now. The pleading look didn’t relent. Unshed tears — which Chuuya miraculously seemed to never run out of — shimmered in the light.

… It was very effective. He felt his resolve crumbling rapidly.

“Alright,” he relented, “I’ll stay.”

The resulting smile was hidden by the ear in the little’s mouth. Dazai plucked it out easily, replacing it with a pacifier before he could cause any more grief. The soother seemed to be a secret weapon of sorts. The way Chuuya melted even further as soon as he received it was immediate.

It was funny to watch his losing battle with sleep, fighting to keep his eyes from shutting but failing immensely. The taller teen pulled the covers over both of them before moving closer to caress Chuuya’s forehead. That was all it took for him to close his eyes for good, breath slowly evening out. In his contentment, he let out a sweet sigh.

If Dazai was a weaker man, the noise might have made him melt on the spot.

The sound of steady breathing lulled him closer to dozing. All of the exhaustion he’d been stubbornly ignoring suddenly reappeared in full force. He’d had a long few days, too. Paired with his insomnia at the most inconvenient of times, Dazai felt sapped of all energy.

Curling closer to Chuuya, he let himself fall into a soft slumber. This time, it was barren of any dreams.

By the time Dazai woke up, the sun was starting to set. Huh. They must have slept for a few hours then. He heard faint shuffling over to his right.

Opening his eyes, he was greeted with Chuuya gazing right back. His taut posture and the downward tilt to his lips told Dazai all he needed to know.

A pang of disappointment ran through him. It would’ve been nice to spend the rest of the evening taking care of a regressed Chibi.

Chuuya opened his mouth with a growing frown, but didn’t get the chance to say anything.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna try to apologize for regressing again. I don’t think I can stand listening to you monologue for a second time.”

That earned him an annoyed glare. Good — that was better than being stared at like he kicked a kitten or something equally as stupid. Chuuya huffed, but the slight twitch of sharp eyebrows gave him away. 

His dog was so easy to read that it was laughable. Chuuya sighed, already on edge.

“Well what do you want me to say then, mackerel?”

Dazai put on his best high pitched voice and thread his hands together, “Thank you so much Dazai-san! You’re the best owner ever for taking care of a microscopic dog like me—”

A fist knocked into his stomach with surprising force and the air was knocked out of his lungs. He doubled over, choking pathetically as he paused to regain his breath.

“Shut up or else I’ll break your damn ribs this time. And that sounds nothing like me, asshole,” Chuuya growled through gritted teeth. In spite of his rough punch and needlessly violence threats, there was no actual heat behind his actions. 

There was more energy behind his movement and his face had gained back some color, which settled the incessant buzzing in Dazai’s chest. He’d blame that for the reason why he didn’t rise to the bait, instead attempting to keep the worry off of his face.

Unfortunately, their ability to understand one another went both ways, so Chuuya noticed his tension. He softened.

“It— uh— wasn’t the worst. When you took care of me.” he haltingly stuttered, “I’ve never really gotten to— I had fun, for a bit.”

“Yeah?” Dazai breathed.

“Yeah. But you didn’t need to do all that for me. It’s not fair to bother you with my shit. I’ll be fine to deal with it by myself. Well, maybe not fine, but— um. I can deal with it,” Chuuya trailed off lamely, stumbling over his words as he hastily attempted to clarify.

It wasn’t necessarily untrue, the older teen could probably figure something out if he needed to. The thought of leaving him alone in such a vulnerable state tasted like ash on Dazai’s tongue. He’d admittedly had a nice time too, other than the hurdle near the end. 

He swallowed and looked away, trying to find the right string of words.

“Maybe I can… I can be there more regularly when you regress? If you wanted me to?” It came out sounding more like a question rather than a suggestion.

His words were met with heavy silence. He tried not to fidget with his bandages while it stretched on. Just as he was about to fold, claim that it was a stupid joke and pretend this never happened, the redhead spoke up.

“Yeah,” Chuuya echoed his partner from earlier, voice hoarse. Dazai jolted at the response. “Maybe that isn’t a terrible idea.”

The younger teen searched for any signs of deceit, only finding an open expression. There was something hopeful there, under all that trepidation.

A small smile grew on his face. Chuuya’s face mirrored it soon after. It was clumsy, an outcome of two kids being such strangers to showing any vulnerability, but the weight was still the same.

This was a promise, he recognized. It was trust that neither boy had put in someone else’s hands until now. Dazai swore then and there to do everything in his power to keep that promise. No matter what it took.

Caught up in the tender moment shared with his partner, Dazai forgot to ask about the night before. 

The vivid memory of Chuuya’s flashback would remain sealed shut in the back of his mind collecting dust for a long, long time.