Archive of Our Own

Chuuya should’ve known his night would be tossed into hell when he heard the lock on his apartment door being picked.

The door swung open gracelessly and without looking up, Chuuya knew it was Dazai standing in the threshold. He looked anyway, his partner staring at him with a deadly look in his eyes, something calculated and cunning, meant to scare him out of whatever he was going to say.

Dazai should know by now though, there was nothing that could truly scare Chuuya.

“What the fuck do you want?” Chuuya asked as he stood from his position on the couch, inching closer to get a better look at Dazai.

He looked unwell, sickly and way too pale. His hair was matted with blood, visible eye bruised with a deep laceration on his cheek, clothes heavy with blood stains and grime. Wherever Dazai had been, it looked like he barely crawled out alive. Chuuya knew this wasn’t the case though, Dazai would never let himself get roughed up- it must’ve been part of his plan, or something eerily similar to his usual self destructive habits.

“A glass of water, preferably.” Dazai smirked, assuming the upperhand in the situation already.

But it wasn’t going to happen, Chuuya was tired. It was past midnight, nightmares plaguing Chuuya every time he tried to close his eyes, grey visuals but he could feel what was happening. He’d resorted to the couch, a meaningless TV show and biting his nails. 

“Let me rephrase,” Chuuya took a measured breath, “Why are you here?”

“Because you’ll do whatever I say.”

“Fuck you,” Chuuya’s hands fisted into balls by his side as Dazai nonchalantly kicked the door shut behind himself, “What the hell did you get in to?”

“Doesn’t concern someone with low level clearance.” Dazai shrugged, locking the door as a way to keep Chuuya from hauling him outside. 

Yet they’d done this song and dance before, quite a few times actually. It always ended with Dazai fleeing anyway, so it made no sense why he always put on some bravado like he deserved to be in Chuuya’s space. 

Anger flared in Chuuya’s chest, “I have a very high level of clearance, you know that,” He took another breath, “Either tell me why you’re here or get the fuck out.”

“What are you gonna do?” Dazai taunted, taking a step towards Chuuya, “Toss me out on the street? We both know you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah?” Chuuya challenged, “Why’s that?”

“You’re a loyal dog,” Dazai responded, his voice devoid of any true emotion, “You’ll roll over and do anything I want.”

“Try me, dickhead.” Chuuya gripped Dazai’s collar and brought him down a few inches, glad their height difference wasn’t too dramatic yet, “Fuck, you stink.”

The stench coming off Dazai was metallic, laced in blood and sweat and grime. No doubt between his bandages, caked onto skin that wasn’t visible with all his layers. It was repulsive. 

“Get your hands off me,” Dazai grabbed onto Chuuya’s wrist with a deathly kind of pressure and tried to yank him off, “Go fetch me water like a good boy.”

“Fuck you,” Chuuya spit, tossing him backwards as he relented, “Tell me why you’re here.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Dazai leveled him, flexing his hands by his side. 

“You’re in my goddamn apartment,” Chuuya retorted, “Why?”

“Does it really matter?” Dazai’s eyes glazed over with something dangerous, “You’ll take me in anyway.”

Chuuya let out a breath, trying to expel the fire that was burning within him. He knew, logically, Dazai was trying to rile him up, trying to get him so angry that he’d miss all the cues that could tell him what had happened. For whatever screwed up reason, Chuuya did care, it was his worst quality, he was sure of it. 

For caring so much, Chuuya didn’t have a good way of showing it.

“Oh yeah?” Chuuya lit up at the challenge and re-entered Dazai’s space, gripping him by the collar again and slamming him into the wall by the door, “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” Dazai replied easily, though he was shoved so hard against the wall his teeth hit each other and his jaw clenched shut. 

Without warning, Dazai’s hands were back on his wrists, this time with even more force behind it as he yanked downwards while twisting, causing Chuuya to momentarily lose his grip. Chuuya felt a harsh knee to his gut and responded with a punch that made Dazai stumble to his right, hands flinging out for purchase before he realized there was no point. Dazai came back in with a punch, hitting Chuuya in the chest before he had the time to block it. Chuuya gripped Dazai’s outstretched arm and pushed hard until Dazai fell to the floor. 

Physical fights were nothing out of the ordinary for them, however, Dazai finding himself in such a vulnerable position was new and unwelcome. 

Chuuya pounced on him, “Tell me why you’re here.”

Dazai freed one of his arms and tangled it in Chuuya’s hair, pulling harshly, “You don’t need an explanation, you’re being subordinate.”

“You aren’t my goddamn superior,” Chuuya bit back, smacking Dazai hard against his face. 

“Aren’t I though?” Dazai smirked, tugging Chuuya’s hair hard enough that he toupled over for a moment, their faces closer than before, “That was the deal last year, you do as I say.”

“You don’t fucking own me,” Chuuya couldn’t control his anger now, it bubbled through his veins and boiled under his skin, every neuron in his body was on fire.

“You sure?” Dazai laughed, contempt leaking out and onto every syllable, “That collar around your neck says otherwise.”

Chuuya’s hands found Dazai’s neck in retaliation, “I’m not anybody's goddamn property.”

“Mmm,” Dazai hummed against his constricted airway, the hand in Chuuya’s hair leaving as both his hands came to lay limp beside his head. 

“Tell me why the hell you’re here.” Chuuya pushed down harder, the bandages under his naked hands rough and all wrong. He didn’t care about whether or not assuming the position of power in this fight was satisfying, there was nothing else in his mind except pure unfiltered rage. 

“No.” Dazai smiled petulantly. 

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

They both knew it was an empty promise. 

“Let me rephrase that,” Dazai sucked in a breath, keeping his control while reciting Chuuya’s earlier statement, “You don’t deserve to know.”

“Why’s that, bastard?” Chuuya squeezed his neck, his face inches from Dazai’s now. 

“You aren’t worth it.”

In another situation, over the past year, Chuuya would’ve taken pleasure in crushing Dazai’s windpipe at the words. They struck a chord deeper than anything else that had been tossed around tonight, anything they had thrown at each other in the past. Both of them could throw punches, jab at each other’s worst qualities, Dazai could tug at the autonomy Chuuya held so close to his heart but this- it was drenched in something else.

Chuuya knew Dazai was trying to get him off his back, was trying everything he possibly could to get Chuuya as emotionally far away from him as possible, yet he usually didn’t care. Now, for some reason, Chuuya was resigned at the words, a different kind of fire and anger burning under his skin. 

He was tired, bone-deep and debilitatingly so. 

The fight wasn’t worth it anymore. Dazai was pushing him like he always did, keeping up normal appearances when he was obviously seeking something from Chuuya. If Dazai wanted to keep using Chuuya like some cheap self destructive habit, he’d take no part in it anymore. Their hot and cold dynamic wasn’t pleasurable, it wasn’t fulfilling or something that could even keep Chuuya’s head above the water on the worst of his days.

If Dazai thought it was, Chuuya would let him drown. He couldn’t go on like this, his life was already a living hell, tossed from one thing to another, belonging to so many different responsibilities and people it made him sick. Dazai would sink his teeth into everything Chuuya was and love the taste of his blood on his tongue.

Chuuya released Dazai’s neck and stumbled off of him, eyes glazed over and distant. He put a few feet between them and shoved his hands in his pocket. It was different from all the rest of their encounters like this but Chuuya couldn’t handle it anymore, if it made him weak, so be it.

“Get out.”

Dazai looked genuinely lost for a moment before he schooled his expression, propping himself up on his elbows before crossing his legs and sitting upright. Like this, there was still a physical power imbalance, but Dazai wouldn’t let it stay for long.

“Letting your little feelings get in the way of your threat to kill me?” Dazai taunted, “What happened? Realized you needed me after all?”

Chuuya bit down on his lip and refused to respond, holding his stance by the couch. 

“Can my dog not hear?” Dazai tried again, though now he was faltering slightly at the despondent look in his partner’s face, “Letting your emotions do the work is childsplay in the Mafia-”

“Get out,” Chuuya cut him off, letting his voice drop into something monotone and resigned, “Go.”

“Huh?” Dazai tilted his head, “I knew you’d give up at some point in this career, I never expected it to be this soon-”

“Osamu,” Chuuya breathed, using Dazai’s given name for the first time in his life, “I’m not doing this shit anymore, get the fuck out.”

“Cheap shot, Chuuya.” Dazai blinked once, twice, calculating his next words to send a final blow that would hopefully get Chuuya angry again. An angry Chuuya was a familiar one, a safe one, “You-”

“Shut the hell up,” Chuuya spit as his voice shook, “I won’t play this game with you anymore, get out.”

Without waiting for a response, Chuuya turned away from Dazai’s seated form and walked towards the kitchen. It was risky, Dazai could attack him from behind, press a knife to his throat and take his life right then and there, but Chuuya knew he wouldn’t. It would be too easy and Dazai obviously didn’t like when things were handed to him on a silver platter.

Instead, Chuuya walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, one hand on the counter as he took a sip. The coldness brought awareness back to his body, dousing his anger in a sheen layer of ice, extinguishing the fury buried within him. He knew Dazai could see him from here, could see his body against the counter and his side profile as he hung his head, uncaring to the eyes mapping his every move, tracking him through the space.

Dazai had never been this silent before. 

It took a while for the silence to be broken. Chuuya thought Dazai would get himself up and waltz out of the door, ignoring him for a week before planting himself back in his usual role of an annoyance for a partner. Instead, Dazai spoke. 

“I did recon,” His voice wavered, “Got roughed up.”

Chuuya tried to hide his shock at the explanation and responded like usual, “Roughed up is one way to put it.”

“The men were bigger than me,” Dazai replied, though Chuuya could feel that his gaze had left his body. 

Chuuya knew, without Dazai having to say it, how that must’ve felt. Dazai was typically on top of everything, able to use both his cutting personality and physical prowess to get himself out of lots of situations. They must’ve been a lot bigger than him, able to trap him without his weaponry, maybe even aware of the strategies Dazai used to get himself out of situations like that.

Dazai never got hurt on the field unless it was part of his plan. It was now obvious his current physical state wasn’t part of the plan.

“What did they want?” Chuuya found himself asking, his voice still distant. 

“Revenge,” Dazai shifted his arm to set it back in place, “I took down their leader when I had enough information.”

“Did boss tell you to?”

“Yeah,” Dazai sighed, “He probably knew this would happen.”

“So why’d you come here?” Chuuya asked, figuring he’d gotten enough honesty out of Dazai it was worth one more try, “You could’ve gone anywhere.”

It took a while for Dazai to respond, and when he did, Chuuya could feel his eyes back on him, studying his response.

“You’re… familiar.”

Chuuya tried not to show his distaste with the words on his body. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded as his shoulders went rigid and he held his breath.

“Familiar?” Chuuya sounded exasperated, “You broke in, picked a fight and fucking taunted me because I’m familiar?”

Dazai didn’t respond. Chuuya dropped his head again, shaking it as he willed the tremor in his hands away. 

“And now you’re mute, great.”

Chuuya heard rustling and it sounded like Dazai had said something.

“What?” He was annoyed again, frustrated with the entire situation as he read the clock on the stove, seeing it was past one in the morning now.

“Safe.”

Predictable, comfortable, all things Dazai didn’t say but Chuuya heard regardless. The fact Dazai, the boy who ran his subordinates around with an iron fist, took genuine pleasure in dismembering people in the basement, was blood-hungry and indifferent to the deaths of human beings had admitted Chuuya felt safe was enough to break through the chains of Chuuya’s anger. 

Chuuya turned his head to meet Dazai’s eyes, his face holding an unguarded expression, one that spoke of devastation and ruin, one that looked like it belonged to a teenager Chuuya had never truly met. If Dazai’s words were a manipulation tactic, Chuuya was falling for it. The pure honesty on his face was enough to move mountains. 

“Go shower.” Chuuya sighed, breaking eye contact and turning back to the cup of water on the counter, blood smeared on the rim.

He didn’t look back over as he heard hesitant movement, choosing to focus in on the glass, now the water displaced the cheap marble it sat on, how red the blood looked in comparison to the white of the counter it sat on. 

The bathroom door clicked shut and the string holding Chuuya upright snapped gracelessly. Chuuya shoved the cup towards the sink, letting it smash in the metal with a satisfying sound. His mind was spinning, legs barely working as he walked over to a small mirror he had by the window, his own reflection staring back with nothingness written all over it.

His eyes were sunken, hair a tangled mess, nose steadily dripping with blood. Chuuya hadn’t noticed the pain, still couldn’t feel it as he opened his lips into a makeshift smile, blood between all his teeth from a punch he should’ve seen coming but didn’t avoid quick enough. 

Dazai was an enigma, it wasn’t news to Chuuya. The boy had wrecked his life in more ways than one and Chuuya was sure he did the same to Dazai. Being made partners had been both a blessing and a curse; they understood each other on the field without needing any type of tactical briefing. 

It seemed that understanding didn’t follow so easily into their personal lives. 

There were times it did; when Chuuya understood Dazai was trying to push him away to protect himself, trying to rile him up so he gave Dazai the predictable side of his personality instead of one made of uncharacteristic care and worry. 

That care and worry was woven into Chuuya’s soul- something he loathed most days, his inhuman ability to fall victim to his own emotions. Inhuman because after everything Dazai had said and done to him in the past year, Chuuya should’ve choked him until he died on his floor.

But he didn’t, couldn’t bring himself to. They had fought and clawed at every single instance that uncovered something personal about themselves, Chuuya wasn’t a saint. Every time the situation flowed too close to their insides, it turned volatile. 

A sound coming from the bathroom halted Chuuya’s thoughts as he tore his gaze away from the shell of a person staring back at him. He contemplated for a moment on whether or not he should investigate before deciding to walk towards the bathroom; the last thing he wanted to deal with as it neared two in the morning was Dazai trying to end his life in his bathroom.

He knocked on the door and received no response. 

“Dazai.”

Even after saying his name, there was no response except labored breathing and running water behind the thin wooden door. Chuuya, against his better judgement, was ready for the night to end and pushed open the door.

The first thing that hit him was the metallic smell of blood, again. Dazai was sitting on the floor with his arm over the tub and directly underneath the faucet, a mix of blood and crimson water pouring over the sides of it from a laceration that ran from his wrist to the junction of his elbow, a bloody razor sitting at the bottom of the tub. At the very least, Chuuya noticed Dazai had actually taken a shower and was dressed in some of Chuuya’s oversized clothes. 

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya breathed, moving quickly to grab Dazai.

Dazai only seemed to notice him then, moving out of the way of Chuuya’s touch with lightning speed. He tried to pull his hand out of the tub but Chuuya was quicker, latching onto his injured arm to keep it in the tub, he’d be damned if the boy who was just covered in blood and dirt and grime got himself dirty again. It had taken a physical fight and all of Chuuya’s sanity to even get to this point.

“Get the fuck off of me,” Dazai snarled, his curse rare and drenched in anger.

But when Chuuya really listened, he heard an undertone of defensiveness, a beat of fright. 

“You said that already,” Chuuya sighed as he referenced their earlier encounter, “Look how it turned out.”

Dazai tried to yank himself back, attempting to get himself out of Chuuya’s grip. He kicked at Chuuya’s bent legs, causing him to stumble enough where Dazai could free his arm. Without thinking of where he was escaping to, Dazai pressed himself between the toilet and tub, clutching his arm close to his chest to try and protect it.

An exhausted breath left Chuuya’s body. 

The boy trapped in his bathroom wasn’t someone he outright recognized; this was not his typical Dazai. He was devoid of bandages, both his eyes hazy and wildly staring through Chuuya as if he didn’t recognize him and god, Chuuya wanted the night to die and rot in hell.

“Dazai,” Chuuya tried to keep his voice level. He wasn’t sure why he was even trying at this point but anything was better than Dazai bleeding to death on his bathroom floor. Chuuya made no move to come closer, he just crouched a few feet away from his partner.

“Don’t come near me,” Dazai spit, “I’ll kill you.”

“Why’d you cut yourself?” Chuuya ignored his threats, they both knew they were empty.

Dazai bared his teeth, “Not your problem.”

“It is,” Chuuya let a tinge of anger into his voice, “You’re in my apartment, remember?”

The words seemed to do something to Dazai, the reminder he was seated in Chuuya’s apartment, in Chuuya’s bathroom, under Chuuya’s gaze, dressed in Chuuya’s clothes. Nobody else- not the assailants he had been pinned by earlier, not some distant enemy he needed to protect himself from- just Chuuya. 

The boy he met a year ago who wasn’t afraid of him. 

“Stay away.” Dazai tried to bark, but it was clear something had unraveled in his mind, had changed his demeanor in the slightest.

“Let me stitch that.” 

“No.”

“Why not?” Chuuya asked, beginning to worry about blood loss due to the strange behavior his partner was displaying. 

“I-” Dazai’s eyes widened at his lack of usual verbiage, “I want to die.”

“Okay,” Chuuya sighed, still making no move to come closer.

“Okay?” Dazai asked, now becoming more unsure of himself. 

Chuuya took it as an opportunity to jump on. He moved quick to invade Dazai’s space and yank his arm away from where it was cradled against his chest. Chuuya cringed at the blood squelching beneath his fingers as he manhandled Dazai back towards the tub, holding his arm under the rush of the faucet again. 

Dazai struggled in his grip, “I hate you!”

It sounded nothing like the boy he knew. Dazai had said those words before when Chuuya was annoying him, he’d yelled them before too- but it never sounded like that. Dazai was desperate, crying out in any way he could to get Chuuya to stop trying to save his life.

“Feelings mutual.” Chuuya gritted out as he continued to fight against Dazai.

“I can’t stand you! I hate everything about you!” Dazai continued trying to get out of Chuuya’s grip, tugging against an immovable force that would be damned if he let Dazai wriggle out of this again, “You’re the worst! Have I told you that? Even if I have, I haven’t said it enough!”

Chuuya tried to drown out the meaningless words, keeping his focus on the cut running up Dazai’s arm that was obviously meant to drain him of enough life to kill him. How selfish could he possibly be? Trying to commit suicide in Chuuya’s bathroom after making his night even worse than it already was.

“Chuuya is such a dog, a stupid dog who can’t do anything right!” Dazai’s fight was dwindling, his words slurring slightly, “I wish you’d go away forever, I hate you!”

His words were wet and Chuuya pointedly did not look over to catch his face.

“I hate you!” Dazai sounded more desperate yet gone at the same time, “I hate you,” The fight was gone from his body, going lax against the side of the tub, head dropping until his forehead met the cool plastic of the rim, “I hate you,” Chuuya applied more pressure than necessary to the dip of his elbow, trying to stop the blood flow, “I hate you.”

The water turned pink after a few minutes of Dazai reciting his mantra of hate and Chuuya’s pressure on his arm, but the fight was far from over; Chuuya would need to stitch this. Keeping one hand around Dazai’s arm, Chuuya reached behind himself and plopped a black towel onto Dazai’s lap, transferring his arm to the towel and holding it down while he shut off the water. 

“Why can’t you just let me die?”

Chuuya didn’t respond as he continued holding down Dazai’s arm with one hand while rummaging through the bottom cabinet for a stitch kit. He was glad he had the foresight to steal some from the medical bay as his fingers brushed against the familiar packaging of a needle and thread. 

With a swift movement, Chuuya tore open the package with his mouth and reached back into the cabinet to pull out a bottle of antiseptic. He popped the cap and held it above Dazai’s arm, “This is gonna hurt.”

There was no point in saying it, but it willed away the treacherous thoughts in Chuuya’s mind. He couldn’t believe what was happening, his brain swirling down the drain the same as his partner. 

“I hate you.”

Chuuya poured the antiseptic on Dazai’s arm, not caring how much was spilling onto the towel as he disinfected the cut the best he could. He pulled the stitch kit from his mouth and released Dazai’s arm momentarily to thread the needle, surprised the other didn’t run away in the process.

“Just let me die.”

There was no response Chuuya could give Dazai that would satisfy the sick bug in his brain, the leech than infected every inch of his life. Maybe it was better that way as Chuuya was beginning to feel just as exposed under the bright light of his bathroom.

Chuuya pinched his skin and brought the needle to it, making his first poke with a practiced hand. He’d done this many times, to himself, to members of the Sheep. He supposed growing up on the streets came with a few benefits, like being scarily good at emergency medical care.

“I hate you,” Dazai choked out again, the words wet against his mouth now, coming out as if he had finally relented to the situation at hand.

As Chuuya placed the last stitch, he looked up to see Dazai’s face, hidden by his downcast gaze and damp hair, but he could see the wetness on his cheeks. Taking in his partner as a whole was devastatingly exposing to who truly laid underneath the title of the Black Wraith. 

Dazai’s shoulders were hunched, his legs criss-cross and face hidden. There was a shake in his frame, something he was trying to keep at bay but was obviously failing at. Dazai, maybe for the first time in his life, looked unbelievably small and young.

Something about the scene made a protective flare shoot in Chuuya’s chest. This version of Dazai, whatever it might be, could never be seen by other people; they’d take advantage of it, exploit it for their own use, drive the stake in Dazai’s soul further until he split in half. Hypothetically, even if Dazai saw Chuuya like this and decided to exploit it, Chuuya decided he wouldn’t, and that was final. 

Ridding himself of the thoughts, Chuuya grabbed a roll of bandages and began wrapping Dazai’s arm with a sort of tenderness neither of them deserved. He tucked the end of the bandage in and yanked the towel out from Dazai’s lap before his now clean arm could hit it. There was blood on his shirt that adorned Dazai’s body and that would need to change if the boy was staying at Chuuya’s place.

Was he? Did he even want to?

Chuuya didn’t care as he stood and washed his hands quickly, disappearing into his room and reappearing with another shirt. He held it out to Dazai, who took a moment before grabbing it out of his hands. To Chuuya’s surprise, Dazai pulled off the bloody shirt and tossed it into his pile of soiled clothes in the corner, fumbling with the clean shirt.

He tried to put it on himself, both hands spasming as he gripped the edges of it. Chuuya understood, without words, for once, what was going on. He knew Dazai’s arm had to hurt, after slicing it so deep, after Chuuya had forced it underneath the faucet with a white-knuckle grip. 

Leaning into a side of gentleness he never had before, Chuuya wordlessly took the shirt from Dazai’s grip and quickly put it over his head, holding steady as Dazai put his arms through it. Chuuya pulled it down all the way to cover him completely before he rocked back on his knees and placed his hands in his lap. 

A few minutes passed and Dazai spoke, “I hate you.”

Chuuya continued staring into his hair as the words were spoken again. He didn’t move, didn’t come any closer, didn’t offer any sort of resolve for the sentiment- he simply stayed. Rooted in place, immovable, forced down by something he couldn’t name or place. Chuuya saw Dazai for everything he was, every dangerous thought in his mind, every demon that latched itself onto him and pushed him further down the drain, and stayed. 

Dazai finally picked up his head, his face wet and red, tear tracks running down his cheeks and snot dripping from his nose. 

The sight was equally devastating as it was shocking. Chuuya had never seen something so disgustingly heartwrenching, a scene that had the ability to crack the world open and suck the lifesource from it. He never thought he’d see Dazai cry, not so openly at least. 

“I…” Dazai choked on a sob, his face crumbling, brows pinched together and eyes forcing out more tears, mouth wet with strings of saliva connecting his top lip to his bottom one, “I hate you.”

Chuuya wanted to punch his lights out, wanted to stand up and drag him outside of the door, wanted to activate Tainted and level the whole apartment building. He wanted to smash the mirror in the living room to pieces, wanted to toss himself and Dazai off the balcony, wanted to set fire to every inch of the god forsaken world that drove them to this point.

Instead, Chuuya leaned forward and pulled Dazai into a hug, his body moving on desire instead of instinct. There was no explanation for his actions, he just tightened his grip around Dazai as a shockwave of sobs escaped him.

Dazai kept his arms in his lap for a moment before he hesitantly brought them up around Chuuya’s neck. It wasn’t familiar, their closeness scared the hell out of both of them, but it was intimate nonetheless. Dazai, the untouchable Executive, was openly sobbing on Chuuya’s, the unrelenting weapon’s, shoulder. 

“They were bigger than me, Chuuya, they had me pinned-” Dazai’s words were hiccupped, stuffed in the crook of Chuuya’s neck and muffled. Dazai gripped the back of Chuuya’s shirt like he was afraid he’d slip through his fingers and cease to exist. 

Chuuya sucked in a breath, forgetting everything he was angry about. Dazai sounded scared, something he never thought he’d hear let alone witness. It seemed this night was one of firsts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chuuya asked the only thing he could think of, cutting off Dazai’s explanation of the events. He couldn’t listen to it, couldn’t stomach what could have possibly made his partner react like this.

“What?” Dazai pulled back from their embrace, flinching backwards like he had been struck. Chuuya accepted it for what it was.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Chuuya’s voice was calm, as steady as he could make it, sitting still and forcing himself to appear nonthreatening as if he was dealing with a scared animal, “I would’ve come with you.”

Dazai took a moment to think over his response, eyes raking over Chuuya to assess him and he must’ve found something that made him slightly defensive as he responded, “You’re shorter than me.”

“And I can manipulate gravity,” Chuuya sighed, disregarding the bait that had been laid carefully. It was an invitation of sorts to bring them back to their typical dynamic, one Chuuya couldn’t fathom falling back into at the moment, “You really think that wouldn’t have helped?”

Dazai looked taken back, opting for honesty after another pause.

“It… would have.”

“So no more of this shit,” Chuuya swallowed his anger again, “I’m fucking tired of this.”

Dazai, following suit to how he’d been for the better part of an hour now, took quite a while to respond.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Chuuya asked, relaxing from a fight that never started.

“Yeah,” Dazai curled in on himself, holding his injured arm closer to his chest, “Okay.”

Reeling from Dazai’s agreeance and current state, Chuuya tried not to look at him too hard, but it was almost impossible not to. His usually covered skin was on full display, having stolen a short sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts from Chuuya’s closet. Chuuya supposed he planned on dying before anyone saw what lay beneath the bandages, or maybe this was all part of some twisted plan in Dazai’s mind.

He settled on it being the fact Dazai tried to die in his bathroom.

Chuuya tore his gaze away from Dazai and settled it on his phone that was discarded by the pile of dirty clothes, the screen still lit and showing the time to be half past three. It was late, or early, either way staying awake for any longer in a bathroom full of grim reminders was not going to help either of them.

Pushing himself up to his feet was more difficult than Chuuya expected, exhaustion settling in heavier now as he straightened his back. He looked down at Dazai with a pained expression, the other boy’s tears having stopped and now he just sat lifeless. 

“Hey,” Chuuya broke the silence and watched as Dazai slowly brought his head up to look at him. Wordlessly, Dazai pushed himself to stand, wavering on his feet before finding his balance and Chuuya gestured lazily to the mess, “This can all wait till the sun comes out.”

Chuuya shut the lights as they stepped out together, letting Dazai walk in front of him so he could close the door and hide the aftermath of… whatever had just happened. Chuuya turned to see Dazai walking towards the living room like he was some sort of marionette, moving with no purpose but drawn to the space anyway.

Something made Chuuya unhappy with where Dazai was heading, “Bed might be more comfortable.”

“Is this an invitation?” Dazai asked automatically, but his voice was all wrong, monotone and tired. 

“Shut it,” Chuuya replied but there was no real fight in his voice, “Choice is yours.”

He didn’t mind if Dazai wanted to sleep on the couch, honestly he expected Dazai to keep walking till he got to the door and bolted out of the apartment. Still, he wanted to offer something that resembled comfort, since Chuuya wasn’t sure he could be anything like that for someone like Dazai. 

Dazai stopped walking and let out a breath, his shoulders sagging and his back tensing again, “I can’t do that.”

For the second time tonight, Chuuya understood the meaning in Dazai’s words. 

“Then come lay down.”

Chuuya turned on his heel and practically threw himself in bed, not waiting for an answer and desperately wanting to bury himself under the covers and hide from the vulnerability in his words. He had choked Dazai out a few hours ago, then saved him from taking his own life, but openly offering some sort of comfort was where he drew the line.

Sighing into the pillow, Chuuya had accepted Dazai wasn’t going to take him up on the offer until the bed dipped almost timidly. Chuuya didn’t look over as the weight shifted further onto the bed on the side closest to the wall, instead he reached out from beneath the comforter and pulled the lamp string to engulf the room in darkness. 

Time passed slower after that, neither person particularly sure what to do in the situation. Chuuya was still in shock from most of the events that had taken place and he was sure Dazai was as well. Perhaps the most shocking was the fact Dazai had given in to something like this, that he had shown Chuuya a side of himself that obviously had never seen the light of day, and was now actively taking him up on his offer to share a bed.

“Chuuya.”

His name was spoken with such uncertainty that it forced him to turn and face Dazai, who was lying completely still facing him. Dazai had his hands clasped in front of his face, eyes wide open and lip between his teeth. 

“Yeah?” Chuuya asked, settling to face Dazai now, leaving a bit of room between them. It wasn’t a huge bed, but enough to where they could probably make it through the night without touching each other. Still, Chuuya was close enough to Dazai that he could make out the individual pores on his skin even without light.

Dazai inched forward just a bit, his breath tickling Chuuya’s face from their close proximity. He unclasped his hands and continued staring. Chuuya, again, understood what Dazai wanted, or he hoped he did.

But Chuuya was tired, and this was becoming repetitive, even if he was glad he was beginning to truly understand the person he called his partner. 

Chuuya reached out and took one of Dazai’s hands into his own, letting a moment pass in case he read the situation wrong now, before he tugged and pulled Dazai into his chest, dropping his hand to settle his arm over the boy’s waist. Dazai tensed but didn’t move from his position in Chuuya’s chest, taking measured breaths in the crook of Chuuya’s neck.

Neither said anything and it took a few minutes for Dazai’s body to relax in Chuuya’s hold. It was a much different predicament than they usually found themselves in but it wasn’t unwelcome this time. Slowly, Dazai shifted against Chuuya until he was comfortable, snaking his own arm around Chuuya in the process.

He fisted his hand in the back of Chuuya’s shirt like he was afraid the other would run at the mere idea of him being in his arms.

After everything, Chuuya couldn’t imagine running. He had Dazai, his feared and ruthless Mafia partner, securely wrapped in his arms. Alive, breathing, heavy against his body and fuck it felt better than it should have. Chuuya moved without thinking, finally shutting off his brain for the night as the arm under Dazai’s head bent so his hand could rest in the brown curls, now dry and soft under his touch.

There was something comforting about having Dazai this close to him, the only person in the world he trusted to have his back, the only person he trusted to actually protect him when he needed it. Of course, Dazai had thrown him into dangerous situations, but after he pulled him from the throes of Corruption as many times as he did, Chuuya had grown to truly trust him.

Dazai’s breathing evened eventually and his body went lax in Chuuya’s hold, the hand gripping his shirt slipping from its position, and Chuuya had a suspicion Dazai felt the same way. 

Without Dazai conscious, Chuuya ran his hands absentmindedly through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, and let the act lull him to sleep too.