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“A5158. Project Arahabaki. Nakahara Chuuya.”
That was the very last thing he heard before going unconscious and ultimately losing his memories forever.
The young kid, Nakahara Chuuya, opened his eyes for the very first time he could remember. His limbs felt like deadweights that were simply taped to the vessel. That didn’t matter at the moment. At the moment, the ginger kid was in the rubble of what apparently used to be Suribachi City.
Chuuya did not know where he was, who he was, or even what he was.
That was… until The Sheep came along.
They took him in, a dangerous entity, out of their free will. They were family. They were home. They treated the ginger as one of their own. At one point, he was one of their own. When that line was crossed was unclear, but Chuuya did not care.
Perhaps he should have. Perhaps that line was never crossed…
Memories of all these events echoed through his unconscious mind in short flashes. Memories of Suribachi City, The Sheep, and every moment he had before the betrayal. Every. Single. Moment. He could feel every single twinge of pain caused by Arahabaki and hear everything the god had to say.
Arahabaki was never quiet. On the best of days, it was a subtle buzz of white noise in the back of his mind. Arahabaki tended to take over when the poor boy was sleeping. Chuuya had gotten pretty good at dealing with it, but certain nights were different. With his bandaged partner on a mission elsewhere, Chuuya hadn’t activated Corruption in a while. Arahabaki was starting to get restless. It was always the worst the nights right after Corruption, but these restless nights were a challenge even to those. Not only were his memories rushing through his head, but Arahabaki seemed to find some sick pleasure in morphing into the boy’s past accomplices and replaying all his worst moments with them. Over and over again did he feel the sting of a knife penetrating his abdomen and hear Dazai’s sick laughter ringing. He was in a constant cycle of walking into the old pub to see The Flags’s fresh corpses over and over again until he threw up from pure disgust and guilt.
Chuuya could not control these so-called visions. It was more like they controlled him. Fortunately, Chuuya would eventually wake up and push the god out of his mind. Unfortunately, this typically wouldn’t happen until well after his breaking point.
Tonight though, it was a bit different.
He suddenly lunged up into a sitting position after getting abruptly thrown out of his visions. Chuuya was drenched in sweat from head to toe. His long ginger hair had come loose from its usual ponytail and was stuck to his neck with perspiration. The teen attempted to groan only to find that his vocal cords were strained to the point it hurt. It seemed that it had been one of the many nights that Chuuya was screaming in his sleep.
“Chibi~ are you awake yet?” A familiar voice whined from the chair next to Chuuya’s bed, “I’m bored and haven’t bothered you in days!”
That explained everything.
The boy sitting in the chair was Osamu Dazai, Chuuya’s partner in the Port Mafia and the only person who could stop Corruption with his nullifying ability. Thankfully, he also had the ability to pull Chuuya out of his visions with a single touch of his finger, which was exactly what he had done.
As much as Chuuya despised the bandaged idiot, he was grateful that he seemed to always know when Arahabaki was getting restless.
“S-Shut up, mackerel,” Chuuya coughed out as his blurry sight slowly improved.
Just as Dazai was about to reply, Chuuya let out a loud cough that stung his chest. His hands were shaking as he attempted to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat. Chuuya’s left hand drifted towards his chest and clutched the fabric of his sleep shirt.
Fuck
“Slug?” Dazai’s voice echoed through the dark room with the tiniest hint of concern that nobody would be able to hear but Chuuya.
“Fuck off…” Chuuya muttered and turned his head away.
“Oh my! Is my dog talking back to his owner?” Dazai smirked as he slid out of the chair and approached the bed.
Dazai did not care for Chuuya. Chuuya did not care for Dazai. They had hurt each other over and over again and continued to with no regret. That was what they both wanted to think. That was what others in the mafia believed. However, those who truly knew the boys knew that they had a bond. It may have been a twisted, cruel bond, but it was all they had nonetheless. Dazai, the boy who cared too little, and Chuuya, the boy who cared too much. They fit together in some jagged way.
Chuuya was the very first person who saw Dazai as just a teenager. Dazai was the very first person who saw Chuuya as a human. Their relationship was ironic in a way. Dazai chose to not get too close to Chuuya in fear of hurting him. Chuuya kept attempting to get close, but got hurt no matter what. At the end of the day, they were both much closer than they originally meant to be.
Perhaps that was why Dazai felt the slightest twinge of concern circulating through his mind as he heard a soft whimper from Chuuya’s huddled shape.
It only took hearing one ragged breath from his partner for Dazai to figure out that it was his binder. Chuuya was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from the other boy. Dazai knew that Chuuya usually had dehumanizing thoughts overtaking his mind after nights like this. He also knew that a dysphoric episode would not help.
Dazai didn’t care about his partner. He just wanted him to be okay for the upcoming mission…
The bandaged boy tentatively tapped Chuuya’s shoulder in a familiar pattern that asked if Dazai could help him out.
Dazai had helped Chuuya out of his binder many times before after Corruption. It was nothing new. However, similarly to Dazai with his bandages, Chuuya did have boundaries for who could see his bare chest and when.
After a few seconds of contemplation, Chuuya jerked his head in a nod.
Dazai made no noise as he jumped off of the edge of Chuuya’s bed and started towards his dresser. Once he was over there, Dazai picked out a loose shirt to replace Chuuya’s soaked one and a black sports bra.
Dazai didn’t know Chuuya’s favorite bra because he cared. It was just routine from missions…
The brunette tiptoed back over to the bed, where Chuuya looked relatively less pale and was sitting crisscrossed on the damp sheets. Dazai crawled up onto the bed and faced the older teen in the same position.
In another life, they could’ve simply been boys talking about school at two in the morning during a sleepover.
But this was not that life.
Dazai looked into Chuuya’s heterochromatic eyes and blinked as a confirmation to touch him. With a slow blink as response, Dazai peeled off Chuuya’s wet sleep shirt, leaving the boy only in his chest binder. Even without taking it off, Dazai could see the red and purple bruises littering Chuuya’s chest area. It was likely that he hadn’t taken off the binder for the entire week Dazai had been gone.
“Stupid chibi,” Dazai’s eyebrows furrowed as he examined some of the bruises.
Chuuya’s head turned the other way as Dazai pulled the soaked binder off of his bruised chest. He let out a few groans of pain, but his breathing sounded less ragged afterwards.
Dazai quickly looked over the bruises to make sure there was nothing that needed immediate medical attention and clipped the ginger’s bra on.
Does that feel okay was what Dazai conveyed with a couple taps to Chuuya’s shoulder.
The boy nodded in reply and Dazai slipped the new shirt over Chuuya’s broad shoulders. After a few minutes of silence in the dark, Chuuya managed to lay back down on his bed to attempt to get a few hours of restful sleep. Soon after, Dazai could be heard shedding his heavy black coat and collapsed next to his partner. He wrapped a finger around Chuuya’s to keep Arahabaki away and watched as the ginger boy fell into a deep sleep. A few moments later, Dazai could feel himself drifting off.
Maybe… Dazai did care for his partner just a little bit more than he had to.