Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Chuuya slaps his own hand over his thigh to swipe off some blood, his stomach tightens a little. It’s the second time a hand slaps his body, more precisely his body below the belt, over the past hour, and the first time wasn’t his. It was Dazai's. And it landed on his ass. 

Chuuya doesn’t know how they do it, how they always end up in improbable positions, but most of the time, Dazai is the one who originates it. Chuuya follows, always, but there are times when the consequences are more severe than others.

Today, when he let Dazai slap his ass and pretend Chuuya was his play thing… Chuuya wouldn’t say he expected it to be without any consequence, but he didn’t expect it to backfire in their faces that hard.

So he played along, played along with Dazai’s 'biggest douche in the universe' act. He let Dazai grope him and call him pretty degrading things to lull the enemy… And Chuuya just thought it was Dazai being an asshole, classic Dazai. They’ve been working together for a couple of years now, Chuuya knows him more than he wishes he did at times.

So why is his heart going ballistic, right now, at the memory of Dazai’s hand lingering on him? Chuuya shouldn’t be focusing on that, he just swiped the enemy off, entirely terminated them. They just have to call for the cleaning team, to wait for extraction.

But something is off.

When they get into the car that is driving them back to the headquarters — their suits and coats more or less stained or drenched in blood despite the apparent success of the mission — Chuuya is eerily silent and Dazai... Dazai looks like he's searing with white hot rage. Chuuya can't figure out why his partner is so riled up and boiling inside, so he lets a moment sink. He's still affected by the remembrance of how Dazai acted with him.

Until Chuuya eventually blurts out the question. What on earth is wrong with his shitty partner?

Dazai doesn't answer immediately, stunned that Chuuya suddenly broke the silence engulfing them, and then... slowly, but surely, his face turns crimson. 

Dazai red in the face is a rare sight. He's not easily thrown off and he has no shame. 

That's why Chuuya never thought he'd hear the next words, and he clearly isn't ready for the drop his stomach does when he does... the tiny but unsettling backflip his heart does when Dazai, pissed off, averts his gaze and snaps at him: "Don't let freaks treat you like you're easy, stupid Slug!"

Chuuya is gaping, stunned, not even sure what Dazai means, because it doesn't make sense... what Dazai is implying. 

"You—what do... What the—" 

"Did you not see that prick when I talked to you like that?" 

Chuuya feels like he can't breath and Dazai struggles. 

"You're the one—"

"You're not a piece of meat!" Dazai snaps once more, yelling before he turns toward the window. 

"I just went along with your plan," Chuuya breathes out. 

He can't figure out why his insides are twisting like that and why his face is growing so hot. 

"Well, I fucking hated it!"

They don't talk about it anymore. They don't talk at all until they arrive at the headquarters and Chuuya rushes to his appartments to take a well deserved long and hot shower. And as he lets the water drag the filth down the drain, he reaches up to touch a strand of hair. 

His heart clenches when Chuuya realizes he's daydreaming about Dazai's touch on him, how his face was so close to him when he slurred terribly objectifying things... His hot breath. And how Dazai got upset afterwards for treating Chuuya like this. 

There are two things Chuuya gets out of his reflection. One: Chuuya clearly doesn't have a degrading kink. But two: with how his body is reacting as the ghost of Dazai's breath lingers on his skin, and his burning flirting gaze seems imprinted behind Chuuya's eyelids... Chuuya's clearly hot and bothered and that's enough to send him into a panic.

Chuuya knows... he knows he's utterly, majorly fucked but there's nothing he can do about it.

He knows he can't act on it when they next see each other. Which would be pretty soon because they have to type in a report on the mission for Mori. 

Chuuya sends a text to his partner to let him know that he's ready, waiting for Dazai in his rooms, as usual. Chuuya takes more time than the usual to send that text, and he considers for a second that they change their habit. To ask that they type the report somewhere else than where they usually crash afterwards to play videogames. But that would betray him. So Chuuya pushes down the tiny voice freaking out at the back of his mind and sends the signal that he's ready.

Dazai doesn't show up. Not immediately that is. He's always lazy and reluctant when it comes to reports anyway, but the tremendous amount of time he takes before going to Chuuya's quarters isn't normal either.

Yet, when he eventually shows up two long hours later, barging in without knocking and with a nasty grin on his stupid mouth — visibly unaware of the internal turmoil Chuuya is going through — Dazai acts pretty normally. He almost kicks the door down, barely takes his shoes off and crashes on the couch with a disgraceful yawn. All of which is pretty in character for his infuriating self, Chuuya notes. He's not sure it means that Dazai has forgotten everything that happened in the car, somehow. But then... 

"I'm gonna take a nap. Bark me awake when you're done, will you?" Dazai drawls, kicking his feet up the couch and rolling on his side.

"The hell?" Chuuya almost chokes on his own spit, immediately bouncing toward the couch. 

He grabs Dazai's shoulder to roll him over, yanking the other teenager so hard he almost falls off the couch. Usually, Dazai would go limp and let himself be manhandled to some extent with a shit-eating smirk until he's had enough. This time, though, the reaction is instant and quite surprising.

Dazai slaps Chuuya's hands away, pushing him back violently before he slumps back into the couch, tucking his knees against his chest with a glare. But that's not the worst...

"Don't touch me!" Dazai snarls viciously. And it's so mean, leaning toward outright disgust, that for a moment, Chuuya's insides churn. 

He feels a lump forming in his throat, keeping his hands to himself as he stands back up to tower over his partner. But something feels off.

"What's up with you?" Chuuya spits, his fists closing at his sides as his mind starts reeling. 

Dazai is acting weird. Even for Dazai. Which says a lot. And Chuuya can't exactly pretend he's feeling normal either. Not after what he had to do in the shower to get down from his own riled up state... So they seem both screwed to some extent. It's terrifying. Still, Dazai is the one who got mad over the issue and Chuuya isn't the one who came up with the plan. Good thing he knows how to force Dazai's nose into it. 

"You're gonna help write that damn report, because you're the one who came up with that brilliant scheme, not me! And I think I suffered enough from your fucked up idea back there." 

Dazai glares even more, contradicting with the twisted and cruel grin spreading on his lips.

"Oh really? You got along with it so well, though."

Chuuya takes a deep breath, because he can feel it. The atmosphere just changed and the air is charged with electricity. It's instinctive, he braces himself, because he knows... Chuuya just knows that the next words coming out of Dazai's mouth might plunge the room into chaos. He hates that he is right. Chuuya hates that he knows Dazai by heart already and that he can feel those things. Because despite how Chuuya can predict what's about to happen, he's not ready nor can he prevent it.

"That was so ridiculous I might stop calling you my dog and call you my bitch instead, don't you th—"

Chuuya slapped Dazai more than once over the last year. Usually he'd go for a slap over something like that. But with how riled up he is and how vile Dazai is trying to be, Chuuya's fury gets the best of him. Dazai is lucky that the back of the couch is there because Chuuya's fist collides with his jaw hard enough to send him flying across the room otherwise. It's not costing Chuuya that much effort, it's one punch, yet his chest is heaving as if he's been running for hours when he unclenches his fist and steps back, eyes wide open to stare at Dazai.

"Seems like you're not getting along with it anymore... Why is that? You need a few dudes to look at you while I—" 

"Enough!" Chuuya hisses, ready to jump at Dazai's throat. 

But when Dazai slowly pushes himself back into a sitting position and looks up at him, Chuuya discovers the split lip and the trickle of blood that's slowly snaking down Dazai's chin. And when he grins, his teeth are pink. 

Fuck. 

"Don't move," Chuuya orders curtly, realizing he's trembling somehow. 

He doesn't wait for a reply to turn on his heel and rush to the bathroom. Chuuya fumbles through his drawers but has to stop when he realizes how shaky he is. 

"Come on," he mutters, grabbing the edge of the sink to ground himself. 

Chuuya can't hear Dazai moving from here but he's pretty sure his partner isn't going anywhere anyway. Not with what just hit him. 

In the end, Chuuya is back to the couch a couple of minutes later, holding a bottle of alcohol-based antiseptic and some fresh gauze. He knows Dazai, and that Dazai will worm his way out of this. But Chuuya can't let that happen. Not with how fucked up they let the situation get. Not with how it escalated so fast or with how it messes with them enough to get physical. 

Chuuya can't afford it if he wants to find any sleep somewhere near the next week anyway. As soon as he's standing in front of Dazai, he gets a little unsure. 

Dazai did say not to touch him. Quite agressively. But touching each other has never been a problem until today. They're always touching. To fight, punch, tease, to piss each other off, and on extremely rare occasions... to comfort. Chuuya can feel his face heat up. He can't change a single thing. They have to go back to normal if Chuuya wants a chance to understand and sort it all out. Dazai is sprawled on the couch, slumped like a pile of goo and looking at him with a bored, unimpressed expression Chuuya wants to slap away. 

It's not fair that he has to be the one to do everything when his mind is probably reeling way more than Dazai's. Dazai is the calm, collected brain, and Chuuya has no doubt he knows how to rationalize things faster than he can. And even if Dazai is affected, apparently it's easy for him to act like it's not the case. 

Maybe Chuuya is the only one suffering? He's not stupid, on the contrary, but he's the one who wears his heart on his sleeve. Dazai couldn't care less—

No, stop! Chuuya orders himself, because this won't help. So he opens the lid of the antiseptic and bends over Dazai as he soaks some gauze with it. Dazai's eyes shift to the white puffy square that closes in on his mouth and squints, scrunching his nose up.

"Don't be a fucking baby. It's not even going to sting," Chuuya says.

It's a blatant lie. It's an alcoholic solution. It's not just going to sting, it's going to burn like hell since it's on the lips and the mucosa is terribly sensitive. They both know that well and it's not like Chuuya feels guilty. 

Of course, it does burn. Dazai stiffens and clearly tries to hold back but Chuuya knows he's not far from cursing and kicking his feet. Which eventually happens, because Dazai is a huge baby for minor things like that. A wonder how he can take a bullet and look unfazed but Chuuya figured that fucker is only soft when it's convenient for him. And kicking Chuuya in the kneecaps is convenient, especially today. 

Chuuya dodges without much trouble nonetheless and glares as he throws away the gauze soaked not only in antiseptic but also blood now. 

"For real!" Chuuya snaps, snatching the bottle and some more gauze, ready to go again. 

"It hurts like a bitch and it's your fault," Dazai growls, baring his teeth. 

Which immediately results in more blood gushing out of the split lip. 

"Are you a fucking idiot?" Chuuya yells, aggravated. 

"Are you pissed?"

Now Dazai is arching an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging into an impish smirk on the opposite side of the wound. But it's still stretching it and now he looks like a feral fox who just cornered its prey. Chuuya gulps down too loudly. He's the one who's being eaten alive, he knows that. Dazai is the worst. Yet Chuuya isn't kicking him out. He never does that. Maybe they deserve each other. Or maybe Chuuya just knows Dazai isn't only that. Isn't a predator for him at all... As infuriating as he gets. 

Chuuya grabs Dazai's jaw in a firm grip, not gentle in the least, then bends over him a second time, the fresh gauze closing in on his stupid mouth. And it all goes downhill. The bastard clearly isn't in his right mind, because suddenly his hands are on Chuuya's hips and he pulls him in roughly. Caught off guard and already unsteady, Chuuya topples forward, not even gasping or yelling. 

Nothing. 

He's not given the time or the chance. Chuuya finds himself straddling Dazai's lap, bracing himself at the very last second with a hand on top of the back of the couch to stop his fall before their foreheads knock together. Then he stares. They're close enough that Chuuya can't see the rivulet of blood on Dazai's chin anymore. That's how close they are. How close he feels. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, spitting the last word. 

His heart is hammering so hard in his chest, but Chuuya refuses to panic. He won't give into the panic, he— 

"Is this a fucking game to you, Dazai?" 

Chuuya tries to push himself off, Dazai's hands indeed disappearing from his waist, going limp at his sides again as he stares back at Chuuya with a lazy grin. But Chuuya's knees sink into the couch and it's difficult to get away from Dazai. It might not even be a good idea, Chuuya actually realizes the more he looks into these deep dark eyes. 

Dazai isn't wearing bandages on his face today. And despite the shitty smug expression, despite the boredom that shows in both his eyes... Chuuya knows.

It's not exactly a cry for help. But Dazai's actions are the telltale sign that something is off. Of course, he won't answer Chuuya right away, because he's sly and because it's always easier for Dazai to act all proud and cruel. 

Chuuya hates it. But Chuuya relates. It's certainly not his method, they have different coping mechanisms, for sure. But when Chuuya feels like he's overwhelmed and can't sort it out, he lashes out too. He's aggressive, he's physical, he's loud. Dazai endures it everytime and is still there the next day. Always.

Chuuya doesn't come back from Corruption just thanks to No Longer Human. It's a million other little things, that Dazai came to figure out about Chuuya and his fears. About what makes him tick and what brings him relief. About what makes him human what he fears might strip his humanity away from him... 

It's not just being there at the right time and place and, from the touch of a finger, bring Chuuya back. It took Dazai wits, patience, observation and a lot of trust. Including when Chuuya was scared or furious, including when he was so crushed under the power of the god of destruction that he couldn't think what he was doing through. All that transpires through each of their interactions. It shows in the way they interact, and how they understand each other. 

They never felt like they owed each other anything, yet they're always watching one another's back and are there for the other. Today is no different. 

As distraught as he is, Chuuya won't back away. As difficult as Dazai gets, Chuuya won't give up. He just fears that it might be harder than the usual. But at least now, he kind of sees where Dazai is going. It's clumsy, terribly rude and Chuuya isn't sure he can sort it out just now, but he wants to try. 

"Look, I don't know what is fucking wrong with you but the little play is over. Curtain's closed! You stop that shit right now or I'm telling Boss what exactly you said to his favorite business partner back there and why we really got out with that body count." 

It's a vain threat. Chuuya won't do that. He'd be in just as much trouble as Dazai to begin with, since he bears some responsibility too. But Dazai's eyes narrow nonetheless, meaning that he caught the bait. 

"Yeah? How about I put in the report that you were ready to whore yourself out?" 

"Careful," Chuuya warns in a murmur, dropping the gauze as his hands fly to Dazai's collar. 

Dazai's eyes are nothing but two slits now. 

"What? I'm sure if you like it so much we can arrange things. Ask Kouyou to find you a spot in one of her brothels?" 

Chuuya's right hand convulses, his nails tearing at both bandages and skin under Dazai's ear. He can't help it. He's searing with anger. Outright outraged. Dazai clearly has a fucking problem. 

"You're insane!" Chuuya spits. "I barely followed your stupid plan for a few minutes and if I recall, you're the one who got carried away and groped my ass, shithead!" 

Chuuya never thought he'd say that aloud but it seems they're past considerations like that or even embarrassment. Dazai isn't even using proper honorifics, which isn't surprising when he's implying Chuuya is nothing more than a mere slut. But at least, Chuuya barking back is efficient because suddenly Dazai seems to shrink in on himself. It's subtle, because it's Dazai and he's in control of his movements and body language but it doesn't go unnoticed for his partner. Actually, Chuuya realizes he pushed exactly the right buttons when Dazai's fingers curl around Chuuya's wrists in an iron grip, as if he's ready to yank them away from his throat.

A few seconds pass. They feel like eternity. 

"Why."

Dazai's question is curt, sharp and leaves Chuuya restless. 

Then he leans into him. The hands on Chuuya's wrists slide along his arms, his shoulders, and suddenly, Dazai's long fingers are splayed over the small of his back. Chuuya's back arches instinctively as if to get away from the touch but it only brings them closer. 

It burns him through the material of his cotton tee-shirt and he regrets the usual layers of clothes he wears by day. Chuuya has a feeling he'd feel Dazai's hands anyway, as clearly as if they were touching his bare skin. 

"Wh—why what?"

Dazai leans into him more, looking up since Chuuya straddling his lap gives him some vantage point. Chuuya still feels belittled nonetheless. 

"Why did you let me get away with it?" Dazai asks again, his breath ghosting over Chuuya's chin. 

He doesn't seem to be playing. Dazai is very serious. Chuuya might want to use that breach in his smug façade before it's too late. 

"I let you get away with almost—" 

"That's a lie, Chuuya. You don't." 

It's true, he doesn't. Chuuya doesn't let Dazai get away with everything at all. That's something he knows keeps Dazai around. Not that it was Chuuya's first intention when he started distributing vibe checks more often than once. But yes... It is a fact, Dazai seems to appreciate that his partner doesn't let him get away with everything, contrary to many persons in the Port Mafia and even some enemies. 

"Why does it matter? I followed your fucking plan because I trusted your judgment. I didn't have room to question it. Want me to question it now? Because I fucking can! And I fucking will!" 

Dazai's fingers dig in his back. 

"You went along with me, it's one thing but you didn't seem to care when these guys were undressing y—" 

"Shut the hell up!" Chuuya stops him because Dazai's tone drips with venom. 

Chuuya isn't even sure that venom is directed at him. Self-loathing then? But why would Dazai even... It's about the men back there. But Dazai reacting this way, Chuuya doesn't even want to consider what it implies... So he gets riled up instead.

"What was I supposed to do? Get mad? Slaughter them? That wasn't the fucking plan!"

"You did slaughter them in the end," Dazai objects, and he seems more and more angry. 

"Well, yeah! You didn't leave me a choice to begin with," Chuuya says and they both know he's referring to the fact that they had their backs to the wall. 

That's why Chuuya decides it's now or never if he wants to dig in: "And contrary to your fucked up belief, I don't enjoy being treated like a whore that much. And you don't get a fucking free pass, shitty Dazai!" 

Chuuya hears the sharp intake of breath but doesn't make much of it. He's frozen on the spot anyway.

Dazai brought him down into what could be called a kiss but that quite literally is nothing more than their mouths knocking and locking together. 

They do not move, Chuuya staring wide eyed at the other teenager, breath stuck in his throat. Dazai is frowning, eyes closed.

It's as aggressive and forceful as if he'd slapped Chuuya but Chuuya is fairly sure his heart wouldn't be trying to hammer his way through his ribcage if he'd been slapped. Chuuya pushes back after a few seconds, or goes for pushing Dazai back at the same time the other teenager rips himself off of that parody of a kiss. 

They're panting, Chuuya's face growing hotter by the second. Dazai seems distraught but mostly angry. Chuuya only realizes how bruising his partner's grasp is whith his stiff fingers digging into the small of Chuuya's back furiously.

"Are you gonna let me get away with that?" Dazai spits, dark eyes holding Chuuya's gaze sharply. 

Chuuya bites the inside of his cheek violently enough to hurt, almost draws blood. He abruptly gets off of Dazai's lap, staggering backward until his calves hit the coffee table and a pile of video game jackets falls off on the floor. Chuuya presses the back of his hand to his mouth, looking at Dazai as if he'd just tried to stab him and then... 

"Out." 

Chuuya wants to try, he wants to sort it out but Dazai is in some sort of dark place Chuuya knows he can't dive in right now, not without getting hurt in the process that is. He's too emotionally compromised to begin with, too angry at Dazai to try and figure it out.

He doesn't really have the time to regret it anyway, because Dazai is already on his feet, glaring one last time before he walks away. 

Chuuya doesn't move until he hears the main door bang loudly behind his partner. 

Only then does he realize he'd almost forgotten how to breath. Chuuya sinks down to his knees, face hidden in his hands.

Chapter Text

Chuuya can see the chopper before he hears it. It's a little dot in the sky, almost on the same level as he is, that Chuuya makes out thanks to the throbbing light that couldn't possibly be turned off. The teenager was already wrapped in a faint red glow but, as the helicopter closes in, the thin halo turns to an intense scarlet blanket that surrounds him protectively. Not that Chuuya is scared. He was feeling safe until now and still does. If anything it's safer for him when he's less noticeable but that bright glow, a beacon in the dark night that fell over Yokohama hours ago, isn't meant for Chuuya's personal safety.

They never typed the report in the end. Not because of what happened though. Chuuya never really had the time to fry his brain, or to hurt, or to get mad... Nor did he have the time to think things through calmly and rationally. Not even an hour after Dazai left his quarters, Hirotsu knocked on Chuuya's door.

Retaliation.

The little slaughter they thought they'd executed flawlessly was in fact messier than intended. Something they'll have to be preoccupied about later, when Mori needs that freaking report.

For now they don't have time. They have to contain a flock of ability users coming from the western regions and who are determined to punish whoever in the Port Mafia — their long-time business partner — is responsible for calling the deal off.

Technically, that would be Mori. But Mori stayed behind the curtain and that dangerous, stubborn little gang only saw the executioners. The demon prodigy and the feral shepherd dog he keeps on a leash. Chuuya knows that this time, Dazai's little act of belittling him won't do. No one will buy it after Chuuya got out of the warehouse covered in blood earlier today.

The infamous Soukoku duo is wanted. Dead preferably than alive.

So tonight, as Chuuya floats up in the sky, on edge and exhausted, he isn't glowing red for his own safety.

The chopper descends a little, the sound emanating from it deafening. Chuuya can see him. Dazai is leaning over the edge of the chopper, carelessly holding himself onto the railing above his head, his dark, calculating gaze surveying the forest and last habitations that near the woods.

For the Tainted Sorrow shines brighter into the night. Chuuya is safe for now but Dazai definitely isn't.

The demon prodigy doesn't seem to pinpoint any direct threat, and although Chuuya's heart started beating in his throat a moment ago when the chopper closed in on him... He tries to breath out calmly as he floats closer. Close enough that they can communicate using signs and the kind of single glances that can be a game changer when they're in battle.

Dazai's eyes finally shift to Chuuya and he doesn't seem fazed at all, doesn't seem angry. He's calm and collected.

Chuuya is angry, certainly not that collected but he knows focusing now is a matter of life and death. A particularly angry and greedy beast growling in his chest is telling him that tonight more than ever he'll have to fight so they both get out of here without a graze.

The adrenaline is clouding Chuuya's mind enough for him not to analyze all that too deeply. It would be a disastrous mistake. That's why he reaches out to Dazai, despite how furious he's been, how he probably still will be the moment they get to explain each other, and even more if Dazai dodges any explanation.

His partner retreats inside the chopper for a few seconds. Enough for Chuuya to tense all over and scanning the area at the speed of light.

Dazai reappears almost instantly to throw a transmitter at Chuuya without any warning. Chuuya catches it without ever looking away from the limit of the forest. He presses the ear piece into place, before hovering closer to the chopper.

Dazai's lips are moving but the sound coming from the blades rotation makes it impossible to hear. Thanks to the established connection, suddenly his partner is drawling into his ear: "—dog keep a sharp eye."

Chuuya would gladly show teeth for that, but it's the only thing he can do right now: keep an eye out.

They're short on intel and Dazai isn't even supposed to land. The group they're supposed to fight is a small but powerful one so Dazai is supposed to command the main force the sky while Chuuya protects him, ready to join when needed.

Hirotsu is down there, probably already advancing into the forest. Chuuya is as much of a shield as he is the prodigal back up if required. He sincerely hopes he won't have to go as far as using Corruption though, because he's already worn out from the fight earlier today. Moreover, the tension between him and Dazai isn't necessarily making Chuuya eager to have to act in such synch. Not that he doubts Dazai one second. More because Chuuya feels like it would add to the mental strain and it's not something he's looking forward to. If he wakes up alone and abandoned at a random extraction point, he's not sure that he'll forgive Dazai. Actually Chuuya is certain that he'll get back to the headquarters by sheer willpower and that no matter the extent of his injuries, he'll find a way to make Dazai pay. And with how cruel his partner was acting earlier, there's no way Dazai is going to be there, brushing his hair away from the blood on his face when Chuuya cracks his eyes open.

Chuuya is in the middle of breaking his skull open with stupid considerations when Dazai suddenly bends over the edge of the chopper again, leaning dangerously toward the void.

Chuuya gets closer at the speed of light, his heart jumping in his chest but his partner is still holding onto the railing. Dazai looks tense, eyes roaming the forest.

"Looks like Hirotsu-san's squad just established contact, Two casualties on the spot. These bastards are good," Dazai says in Chuuya's ear, speaking soflty despite the deafening ruckus.

He always shifts to that cold calculating mode so easily... Something Chuuya isn't jealous of. He's grateful for it.

"Can you see them?"

Chuuya immediately drops a few meters down, flying under the chopper to look around them. He remembers where the other Port Mafia commander is supposed to be and tries to pinpoint the area for any colorful glow... Either Hirotsu-san's violet hue or another one but Chuuya can't see anything and they can't hear any gunshot either.

"I'm going down. Forty seconds survey. Don't fucking move from these coordinates," Chuuya announces, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Dazai doesn't answer but clicks his tongue, meaning he agrees so Chuuya doesn't wait, plunging on the spot toward the tree heads.

He barely has the time to brush the highest tree's head with the sole of his shoes that the atmosphere shifts to pure chaos. It happens step by step. Chuuya is able to see them one by one in a very detailed way but all in all, it doesn't last more than a couple of seconds.

A giant tree trunk flies past him, glowing a bright red. A branch slaps Chuuya in the face hard enough to leave a vicious and deep scratch mark along his cheekbone and nose.

His descent gets derailed.

Then Dazai curses in his ear and Chuuya almost throws up his own heart when he realizes why his partner did.

The teenager flips onto his back, stopping his descent and immediately proceeds to propel himself up.

The trunk is already closing on the chopper. Chuuya has a window of mere seconds only to act. He doesn't know what ability launched that projectile. Chuuya isn't sure he'll be able to stop it. Reaching the chopper first is going to be complicated, and if Chuuya is careless, he might cause a crash. Fuck.

"Get to the front," Chuuya hears himself say desperately, breathless as he floats past the trunk at a speed that would kill anyone unprepared.

And Chuuya can only pray to a god he doesn't believe in that Dazai will be fast enough. He's at the front of the helicopter the next moment, hands splaying on the surface of the massive glass. Dazai doesn't appears next to the pilot, and Chuuya's earpiece is desperately silent but they don't have time. His red halo engulfs the chopper. Chuuya grinds his teeth to dust, although the adrenaline helps him bear with the pain of the effort as he throws the chopper off course. Dazai finally appears behind the pilot who's trying to hold onto the console. They make eye contact. Chuuya feels his throat close up painfully when Dazai shakes his head. It feels like time slows down for a moment, as if Chuuya can make out every little detail of that negative motion. Then, suddenly, the impact comes.

Chuuya almost gets to bring the chopper to a vertical position, before the trunk collides with the rear blades mercilessly.

The blast is so powerful that Chuuya's left shoulder dislocates on the spot as the helicopter is thrown off. But that's not the most concerning thing. The pilot releases his grip on the console and gets thrown down, crashing into the glass that's barely holding up. Chuuya registers it because of the giant crack running through it and crossing his line of sight. He's staring at Dazai who's dangling from one of the polls separating the cabin from the cockpit. The tail rotor is in flames, the heat almost unbearable.

And Chuuya knows if it's almost unbearable for him, his partner won't hold on for long.

"Dazai!" he screams, trying to ease the whole thing down, but the descent is terribly difficult and his arm screams from the excruciating pain flaring along his collarbones.

Dazai's voice is eerily calm through the blast and pilot's screams. It's cold and collected when he says: "I shall be nothing, the wind, the sky."

"No!" Chuuya's throat feels like it's ripped apart by the sole word he roars.

"Do it," Dazai orders as coldly. "I'll let go, anyway."

There's a million things Chuuya wants to say, a thousand ways to protest and contest that order, but there's no time. He has no choice.

The way things are heading, he won't be able to guarantee a safe landing. The crash is going to be as violent as can be and either Chuuya bears with it and possibly gets crushed to death or he protects himself from the blast and Dazai is the one to go up in flames.

Over the last months working together, they did come up with a multitude of tricks and ploys that only them know. The problem is... a lot of them are still theoretical. They haven't had the chance to test every one of them. Especially not the one Dazai just invoked as if it's the easiest thing in the world and it terrifies Chuuya to death.

"Trust yourself, it's going to work," Dazai had said, rolling his eyes when Chuuya had objected virulently.

Not 'trust me'.

Chuuya lets out a shaky breath, lips parting. He realizes he's gritted his teeth so hard from the effort and then from the terror that there's blood pooling at the back of his throat.

Dazai looks down from where he's barely holding up and when their eyes meet, Chuuya feels For the Tainted Sorrow pulse in his veins. Everything goes silent.

Oddly, when Chuuya lets go of the glass, it cracks down even more. The chopper is still under his ability's spell but it won't last more than a few seconds.

Chuuya is letting go first, like Dazai said he should when they came up with that plan. More like a gambit, from Chuuya's point of view, but he knows that he doesn't have a choice.

He doesn't want to chose over it. Trusting Dazai never was an option. It's natural, it's vital. And even if Chuuya is angry, even if he's terrified, even if the danger and the pain are messing with his senses, he trusts that much.

Once he releases the helicopter, Chuuya leaps down. He simply lets himself fall at a vertiginous pace, eyes locked onto the front glass, behind which he knows Dazai is struggling. And now Chuuya can only count the seconds, way slower and much steadier than his own heartbeat. The chances of success are low, and the pain that's to come is real but Chuuya would choose that other anything else any time.

High above him, the glass finally explodes, giving in under Dazai's weight. Chuuya's breath is cut short. He can't spare a thought to breathing, anyway. All he sees and all he braces himself for is Dazai. Dazai falling through the sky like a mannequin.

Chuuya knows that he doesn't have to focus on any battle taking place near him at the moment. Because if anyone focuses on them, they will believe they won over the infamous duo. Chuuya has a hard time not believing it himself as he watches Dazai's form speed up to his downfall. But he's not helpless. Chuuya isn't hopeless.

He slows his descent just above the tree heads, ignoring the chopper that's now falling too, not too far from Dazai unfortunately. Then Chuuya opens his arms. 

For once, Chuuya is the one to utter the telltale words: "I got you."

He really hope he does, because Dazai is almost there. A split second before the impact, Chuuya's body goes pliant. Relaxed isn't the word, because his blood pressure is off the charts and his mind has never been more focused, but his instincts kick in, knowing somehow that he wants to protect Dazai no matter the outcome. The glow around his body has rarely been that bright, as if Chuuya was trying to compensate for the inevitable...

When Dazai collides with Chuuya's chest, crashing into his body at full speed, for a fleeting instant, it seems like the theory is foolproof.

It seems like — even if Chuuya can't breath as the air is knocked out of his lungs, even if his ribs crack under the impact, even if Chuuya's arm feels like it's torn apart — it seems like they made it.

But in practice, on the field, when they don't have much of a choice, it's always a lot more difficult than what they could ever hope for during strategy meetings. Chuuya has to hold onto Dazai for his dear life for Dazai not to ricochet on the ground, and there's not mistaking the loud groan Dazai let out when they collide either. Nor the fit of coughing. Chuuya can't see but it's bubbling in Dazai's throat mercilessly.

Blood.

So he holds on harder and there's no avoiding physical contact, despite how much they try not to touch, despite how desperate they are — for once in their life — to avoid skin on skin contact. It's impossible.

Dazai's shirt was slashed open, one of Chuuya's sleeves is torn and they're clinging to each other because it's the only rational thing to do.

For the Tainted Sorrow dissolves in a blue flash, as both teenagers shut their eyes tightly, trying not to thrash around despite the broken bones and throbbing wounds.

Chuuya's never held onto Dazai that closely. He can feel Dazai shifting in his arms, now that No Longer Human has been triggered anyway, then Dazai leans into him, burying his face into Chuuya's neck. Despite the fact that he's taller, he's still trying to fit in the embrace, just as they start hurling toward the ground.

"Don't die on me or I'll kill you," Chuuya hears when Dazai's hands grip his jacket.

And Chuuya... he can't help but smile. Just as he opens his eyes and sees the chopper explode above them. He won't be able to shield them from any lost wreckage now that Dazai is secured in his arms, just like Chuuya can't avoid crashing through branches that don't always snap under their weight.

It just hurts. It hurts so much, Chuuya can only cling onto Dazai harder.

At least the crushing pain is cut off abruptly. They fall fast, hard. Hit the ground. That last blow is so violent that Chuuya isn't really sure there's a single bone left in his body to break. The aching is too overwhelming.

There's no air in his lungs to form any cry or even moan, and the last thing he sees is one of the chopper's debris plummeting toward them before the view is obstructed by Dazai's silhouette.

Something dribbles onto Chuuya's face and suddenly, he's reminded of a few hours ago, on his couch, when Dazai's split lips pressed against his.

He's not mad if he goes with that kind of thought.

"Chuuya!" Dazai calls and Chuuya isn't sure what he sounds so angry for.

The pressure on Chuuya's body disappears. The sudden surge of adrenaline and blood rush is too much. His eyes roll to the back of his head. He wants to cough, because Chuuya feels like he's drowning. It's terrifying. So Chuuya focuses. It wasn't really a kiss, back then, but it still feels vivid. As if, before he passes out, Dazai was kissing him once more. 

Chapter Text

It takes numerous times for Chuuya to fully wake up, to come back to his senses and to actually understand what’s happening. Sadly, the only time it doesn’t hurt is far from the last one…

The morphin in his system has receded enough for him to be able to find his bearings. It just never ceases to ache. But it’s still better than the first time he opened his eyes after passing out. Nothing can compare to that moment in hell.

Now, and even before Chuuya tries opening his eyes, the only sound in the room that he registers and identifies is the faint beeping of a monitor that’s probably one of the life-lines he’s holding onto. Before this very instant? It's been only complete chaos.

The first time Chuuya opened his eyes again, he isn’t so sure what he made out of the cacophony around him — because Dazai’s voice was there to hold onto and focus on — but it sounded like hell. Men screaming, impact sounds all around as trees cracked, broken down and fell apart, crushing others in the process like dangerous, oversized alien dominos… What comes back to Chuuya the most vividly is the unbearable heat.

The bits of wreckage that landed close by probably set the forest on fire, and each tree, each bush, each littlest twig went up in flames, just like a few men battling down there, a grotesque parody of torches. Chuuya supposes both their men and their enemies got trapped alike. 

How did Dazai drag him out of here? With his own cracked ribs and probable other wounds… it’s a wonder to Chuuya, but it’s not a question he could ask himself back then.

That one came the second time Chuuya caught a grasp on reality. Half slung over Dazai's back, or maybe carried in his arms, maybe both at some point? It’s all a blur… but Dazai’s voice was still connecting with him so Chuuya could hold on and pull through and it helps a little. Because, and that’s the second memory Chuuya can get a grasp on as vivid as he wishes he could forget. Bleeding out, feeling like he’s torn apart from inside out at every tiny movement he makes, or that his partner makes.

Then everything is cold, everything is aggressive. The crude light. The hard ground. The metal. The makeshift mattress under him when Chuuya is carried at the back of a truck. The scent of metal, that the teenager, half delirious from blood loss, still identifies clearly as hemoglobin. At this point, there’s another scary memory, and it’s the simple question, that nasty wondering thought: will he make it? And Dazai’s voice, who’s still there somehow, tells him that he will.

So, naturally, Chuuya believed it.

He can’t spare too much of a thought to it all when he wakes up next. Wherever Chuuya is, he’s floating, somewhere in puffy, overwhelming limbos, but… they feel safe for a moment. Stuffy, like he’s muting something out, and at the back of his mind, somehow — anxiety is creeping, telling him it’s all a lie.

It’s not like he can afford battling it, though. Chuuya doesn’t want to and shouldn’t. He’s broken. A wreck, not that he is aware of it. He will realize all too soon. Drugs are kicking in, knocking him out even as Chuuya’s conscious.

And so Chuuya drifts away one last time. Until he really wakes up. 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It’s calm for a moment, the time for Chuuya to adjust and for the sensations to come back to his limbs, to every of the most insignificant nerve endings, from the tip of his toes to the back of his skull…

And then the beeping sound, just as steady, quickens, the pace increasing so much that the originally lulling sound is now more oppressive than anything.

Chuuya’s eyes snap open before he even realizes he’s trying to move but the intense weight of the pain, along with the multiple IV routes and tubes ridden along his body, are pinning him down helplessly.

He shouldn’t panic, but that’s such an easy, meaningless thing the nurse or the doctor tell a patient when they feel like their bodies have just been violently mauled, crushed, reshaped. Such a silly thing to say when someone tasted the safety of having the pain taken away just to have it hit them back brutally. Asking someone not to panic when they've tasted their own blood.

Chuuya is alive but he doesn't know at what cost and the memories flooding in, when they do, are all but merciful — frightening flashes of what might have happened, of what Chuuya might have lost. And that physical reminder that he might not recover, because there’s no way he can come back from the stabbing pain in his flanks, nor from the haunting throbbing behind his eyelids. What if...

There's no questioning that all these vile insecurities make Chuuya panic. Him who’s always so in control of his body and movements. Him, more than anyone, who can dance above the clouds, is now pinned down like a butchered butterfly on a dissection table.

But that’s not the worst. Chuuya made it through the unbearable pain, the heat, the delirium, because he had the most precious lifeline to hold on too. 

It’s only natural.

“Dazai!”

Chuuya would have sworn he’d tried to cry, but his voice is just as broken as the rest of his body. And just only does he acknowledge the fact that his vision is too blurry to notice. His surroundings are made of a messy ensemble of bright and dull white shades, but he can see from the corner of his eyes a darker silhouette. Like an ink stain dropped in his field of vision. It’s moving. Closer, and slowly. It seems to be struggling and it’s hard for Chuuya to get if it’s his own impression and struggle that translates there, or if—

“Don’t try to move, just don’t.”

Wait—

But he needs to—

“I can’t be there, you need to calm down.”

And suddenly, in the middle of the onslaught of sensations, piercing through the helplessness and the utter distress, there’s a warm hand closing on Chuuya's fingers and tightening around them ever so softly.

The beeping sound goes even more frantic for a second, before decreasing eventually, progressively, just like Dazai’s grip on Chuuya's hand progressively squeezes him more firmly. It’s him, and as Chuuya’s vision adjusts to the light and the turmoil in his head quiets down even if only a little, he can make out his partner’s silhouette more easily.

“If the nurse runs in, I’m done for. And now I know you’re alive, I swear if that happens, I’ll put you down myself,” Dazai says.

His voice is low, strained and he vomits the words hastily but as he does so, Chuuya can feel him leaning closer and he can perceive the minute signs that tells how Dazai is actually relieved and trying not to crumble under whatever weight is crushing him down. Chuuya tries holding his hand back, but that requires a tremendous amount of efforts and he can barely bring himself to press his thumb back against his partner’s hand.

“Don’t move, don’t move,” Dazai urges him again because he must feel it, how Chuuya tries to shift slightly toward him. “You lost so much blood… I didn’t even believe you could fit so much in such a short—”

His partner’s voice breaks down and he stops talking, his lips closing in a thin line. Chuuya winces, trying to focus to look at them, and he’s sure he sees them quavering. He's certain that it has nothing to do with the edges of his vision that are still blurred.

It’s so unlike Dazai, that suddenly, despite the cotton wrapping his brain, Chuuya starts to realize the gravity of it all. Not just because of his injuries, whatever they might be, but because his partner sounds for one of the first times in a year like he’s unable to keep his usual façade. In any other situation, it would trigger Chuuya’s instincts on the spot, sending him into battle stance, if he was in full condition. Right now, he just feels his insides churn and his heart clench.

It’s always been ironic how — in his own personal quest for normalcy — Chuuya doesn’t fear many things more than he fears seeing Dazai acting like an insecure teenager. 

It can be thrilling. Sure, sometimes it's the promise that they'll have a blast, that Dazai is having such a good time he can't help being an idiotic sixteen year old who has to over compensate for the years of childhood that were robbed from him. Chuuya loves these moments, even if he used to prefer getting shot in the knee than saying it aloud. 

Some other times, it's terrifying, because it doesn't mean they get to be careless to their heart’s content. It means the situation is so desperate that even the demon prodigy, the smartest strategist in the Port Mafia, and probably the whole east coast of Japan, isn't capable of holding up. 

Somehow Chuuya knows he should feel important but right now, he can't possibly savor being the one who can turn his partner's world upside down. 

Chuuya wants to tell Dazai that he's not doing so bad. Chuuya really wants to, because as seconds pass and he can fight his way through the pain, pushing his mind so it forces it in the background, he can let himself be wrapped in many other feelings. Relief is one of them. A tremendous feeling of relief.

Dazai is alive, moving, talking. He's here. After Chuuya saw him fall through the sky last night… or was it last night?

As his heart leaps in his throat, Chuuya tries paying more attention to his partner's face who's leaning over the edge of the bed. Dazai seems distraught, evaluating something. And while his face scrunches up in concentration, Chuuya notices the bruises, the black eye, the scratches, the stitches near Dazai's hairline… they're all more or less faded. At least, the wounds aren't fresh. The bruises are tainted in greenish, yellowish hues around the violet, older blossoms.

"How..." Chuuya tries to croak out, eyes pricking with the sheer effort it requires. "How long...“

Dazai presses his lips together. Then he drops his head low, resting his forehead against the mattress, a hair's breadth away from their joined hands.

"Three days."

His voice shattering as he forces the words out, it sounds like it's been as many days since the last time Dazai closed his eyes to rest. Chuuya knows it can’t be the case. That there's no way Dazai wasn't at least forced to sleep at some point after what happened. But he knows him… it’s something Dazai could do.

"Are you in pain right now?" Dazai adds, suddenly turning his head to look at one of the IV routes attached to Chuuya's body. The one that brings in morphine and other soothing drugs. The one that's clearly not overflowing anymore, seeing how Chuuya feels like his body was broken in million pieces.

"You must be. I wish you were high," Dazai goes on as fast as before.

He sounds nervous, holding on Chuuya's fingers too tight, eyes darting toward the door, then back to the IV tube, then Chuuya.

"You would let it go then," he adds, finally looking back at Chuuya.

"Dazai," Chuuya stammers desperately, because he wishes he could soothe Dazai down.

"But I'll say it anyway," Dazai doesn't listen, eyes shining, lips trembling. "I fucked up."

He buries his face in the mattress again, bringing Chuuya's hand to him so it rests against the hair on top of Dazai's head and then... It's muffled, low, a tiny whisper: "I got so scared."

Chuuya feels like his throat closes up. He got scared too. He can’t shake off that memory. He can’t unsee Dazai falling, can’t forget the feeling, can’t…

“You can’t let me get away with this shit ever again. It wouldn’t matter to you if you were to miss, right? You die and then what? There’s no waste of bandages shithead to piss you off if you’re dead, I guess. So that’s just me, and it doesn’t matter if I feel guilty. Serves me right. Just like the rest, just like when I hurt you more even if I’m the asshole who deserves to go to hell. I’m really a prodigy at everything I do, right? Even at hurting you and hurting myself, when I don’t even like pai—”

There’s a crashing metallic sound. Chuuya keens but he lunges forward anyway, ignoring the pain flaring up his ribs and the stressing beeping sound that gets loud again… everything that isn’t Dazai until Chuuya is kind of awkwardly curled up over his partner. As much as he can without fainting or making the IV poles topple over on the ground.

Chuuya doesn’t really know when was the last time Dazai got to rest, but his heartbeat throbbing under Chuuya's touch — precisely under his cheek where it’s resting between Dazai’s shoulder blades — is not normal. It’s going crazy fast. It’s not like him. Just like it’s not like Dazai to run his mouth like a madman and be so out of control. And it hurts, to see Dazai losing it like that.

For a moment, long enough for Chuuya to start trembling from the pain of holding the position, they don’t talk or move. His body starts to feel heavy, his eyelids flutter shut often, but Chuuya pushes through it. Dazai eventually realizes Chuuya must be straining because he suddenly moves from under him, in the most delicate way possible, then he helps him sit back against his pillow. Dazai even tries to force him to lie down completely but Chuuya puts up some resistance, not using words but still making it clear that he wants to try and stay awake a little longer. It’s not going to be long anyway, his head is spinning....

In that, they’re really an impossible pair, but it’s not just because Chuuya is stubborn that he wants to be awake. He thought, for a solid moment, that he’d lost Dazai, or that he wouldn’t come back. There was a whole moment when he thought they’d never get to see each other again. Suddenly, the argument they had days before seems so vain.

“Why did you do it?” Dazai asks, climbing on the bed to lie down next to Chuuya. 

His right leg hangs off the side because Dazai is careful not to touch Chuuya. Chuuya wishes he could speak freely, that his head wasn’t pounding and his throat didn’t feel like it could crack open any moment. Isn’t it obvious?

“Even after what I told you…” Dazai goes on, rolling on his side to hide against Chuuya’s flank. He clicks his tongue, face pressed against him. “I told you… I told you, you can’t let people treat you that way, not even me.”

Chuuya tries to move around to curl on his side too so they could face each other but it’s hopeless. His ribs scream, the bruises along his flank and back throb sharply. He just pushes his hand far enough so his fingertips brush against Dazai’s nape. It’s about the last bit of strength he’s got left.

Dazai shivers next to him. Chuuya can feel it. He wants to hold Dazai so bad. He wants Dazai to hold him. This is all so silly.

“I didn’t deserve—”

“Then make it worthwhile,” Chuuya whispers, eyes closing slowly as he sinks into the pillow and mattress.

He can feel Dazai move, probably so he can look up, but when he tries to think about what his partner is doing, Chuuya’s consciousness drifts further away from him.

He knows Dazai can. Make it worthwile. He knows because no matter how cruel Dazai acts toward him sometimes, there’s no lie in the way he can stay awake three days just to wait for Chuuya to wake up. There’s no lie in the way Chuuya will wake up a little later with Dazai holding his hand, either.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, or so is what Chuuya tells himself when he tries to shrug his shirt on. Tee-shirts are a no-go as long as he's not able to lift his arms above his head without his broken ribs shouting stabbing pain into his whole chest and lungs.

It hurts that much… But Chuuya is still discharged today. After five days of wrestling the nurses and doctors and one long and painful argument with Kouyou who was ready to use Golden Demon to pin him to the hospital bed for the entire month. Mori got him out of here and Dazai threw the biggest tantrum possible.

Not in front of Chuuya, but he knows anyway. Weird disappearances in medical cabinets that could get a nurse fired. Doors locked so Chuuya is trapped in his bedroom or the bathrooms… An unexplained failure in the computing system that had Chuuya registered as a permanent patient in the palliative care ward. He even woke up this morning with the medical sheet at the foot of his bed replaced with a very good forgery of his check-up saying Chuuya was dying again and couldn’t be allowed to leave the premises. Chuuya doesn’t even know how Dazai does that. He was discharged two days ago himself and sent back, supposedly, on the field. 

His partner should be sleeping, resting, healing… not losing his time trying to delay the inevitable. Chuuya is walking free, as much as he can with the fissured bones in his body, and Dazai can’t oppose to that.

But he tried to do so, so hard that it comes as an unpleasant surprise when no one’s waiting in front of the hospital but a black car with tainted windows. Chuuya doesn’t look back, too eager to leave, but he’s not that much happier to get inside the vehicle. He even feels guilty when a door opens on one of Kouyou’s attendants and he holds the back door ajar for him. It’s so dumb to wish for Dazai to be inside instead of her… and it feels so ungrateful.

Kouyou paid him multiple visits. Dazai didn’t. Not after a second one where he just stayed in the corner of the room, watching Chuuya like a perched and warry owl all along, clearly biting his tongue to refrain from making any comments. He had just learned that Chuuya didn't sustain any complete fracture apart from his ribs and pretended the absence of casts would be a pain as Dazai claimed it ruined his intention to trash them in his sleep using sharpies.

Overall, after the weird confession Dazai gave him when Chuuya woke up, he’s been nothing but a pain or a weirdo for the remaining days of Chuuya’s stay at the hospital, while Kouyou was fussing over him with care and attention. 

That's why Chuuya is a brat. A total brat who smiles sheepishly at his mentor when he slides inside the car, pretending it doesn't hurt to bend in half and join her in the backseat. 

"You'll be living in your old quarters for the time being, lad," she tells him with a frown on her face, clearly not falling for it. 

Chuuya resists the urge to cringe, he had just gotten the authorization to move two floors down and away from Kouyou and now they'll be back at being neighbors. 

If there's something the Port Mafia didn't bring Chuuya right away it's a sense of independence. A weird paradox when he thinks about it, for a sixteen-year old teenager who clearly has been tasting freedom for as long as he can remember. 

It's not something Chuuya was minding much, per say. It's good to feel taken care of, looked after, having that pretense of a family, even with a boss willing to send him to his death anytime it's needed… with Kouyou there was always a sense of normalcy that Chuuya longed for. But it's also that much more difficult to endure being watched and fussed over. And now Chuuya knows that as long as he doesn't get an x-ray exam stating no bone in his body is cracked any longer, she won't let him get away. 

On top of it, there's another ominous thing that living in his old quarters implies… But Chuuya forces himself not to think about it. 

Dazai is there, unnoticeable at first, not sprawled over the couch as he usually would be, or laying on the carpet playing some video games. He's in the corner of the living and main room, standing there like a shadow, barely brushed by the last rays of sun filtering through the giant bay. 

Dazai had figured out a way to steal the last set of keys Chuuya got for these appartements before moving two floors down. Dazai clearly held onto them all this time. 

Chuuya's breath catches in his throat as an attendant drops his duffle bag on the floor and bids him good night. 

He doesn't have the time to say anything that his phone rings in his pocket and Chuuya picks up the call, eyes fixed on Dazai all along. He doesn't even bother looking at the name on display, mildly surprised to hear Kouyou's voice on the other end of the line. 

Dazai presses a finger against his lips. 

"Yeah, you literally saw me walk to my door Ane-san. Of course, I'm–sorry. I appreciate it, I'm just–yeah, fine. Of course, I'll call, I just…" 

Chuuya hunches over himself, turning away to stop looking at Dazai who keeps his finger up as if Chuuya was stupid enough to suddenly blurt out that his partner crept up on him and that Kouyou should come and pick him up. He doesn't want to see her until morning comes. The fact that she needs to check up on Chuuya literally four minutes after they got separated is proof enough. 

"There's no trap worth noticing," Chuuya kind of lies, slightly aggravated as he spares a glance at Dazai who looks overly outraged by his statement. "I think I'm safe," Chuuya adds, followed by an even more shocked expression as Dazai frantically gestures at his whole self. 

Chuuya resists the urge to chuckle at the clown standing in the corner of the room. He rolls his eyes instead, forcing a scowl. He's not keen on making it too easy for his partner. Chuuya worked too hard and got broken too severely to just go in and pretend Dazai was absolved thanks to a semi confession Chuuya might as well have dreamed in his comatose state. 

"Alright, 'night Ane-san."

"You didn't have to hang up in her face," Dazai chirps in just as Chuuya disconnects the call in the middle of Kouyou's goodbyes. "Missed me that much?" 

"Shut the hell up, I'm not the one who's been lurking in the dark waiting desperately for his husband to return from war," Chuuya barks, dropping his jacket on the ground without care. 

Dazai immediately makes an horrified face: "I'm going to be sick."

"Now you know what it feels like to see your face daily, shitty maquerel."

"That's cheap!"

"I'm fucking tired, cut me some sla—ah!" 

Chuuya doubles over mid-rant, enjoying himself a little too much in the banter to forget that his ribs aren't just bruised and that waving his fist in the air threateningly is currently more of a menace to himself than it is to Dazai. Dazai crosses the room faster than Chuuya’s ever seen him move, stopping only when he’s at his side but then freezing before he can reach out physically. 

It’s starting to get dark, but the sun isn’t totally set yet and Dazai’s shadow is gigantic on the floor, engulfing Chuuya partly — still he can see the way his partner’s eyes gleam, shining with concern, a mere second before Dazai tries to find some composure again.

“I’m fine,” Chuuya lies, throwing a hand between them, even though it’s clear Dazai isn’t trying to approach him anymore.

“You're clearly not. You look like shit."

Chuuya glares at him, maneuvering slowly over to the couch. 

"Yeah? Fuck off, Dazai. Don't like my new looks?" 

He doesn't miss the way Dazai watches him carefully until Chuuya drops onto the cushions. 

"I mean, some girls are into the bad boy act, but I just think it's going to ruin our future undercover ops," Dazai says slowly. 

Chuuya looks up, trying to feel offended but his partner has rarely been that full of shit. He knows that Dazai is looking at the bruises that are devouring half of Chuuya's face. He stares at the stitches along his eye socket and near Chuuya's hairline while he closes in and bends over Chuuya. More than anything, Chuuya knows what’s behind Dazai’s thick skull as he scans these treacherous reminders thoroughly.

“Right, a Mackerel in a wig would be ridiculous.”

Chuuya squirms as he settles against the back of the couch, trying to put some distance between him and Dazai. Without any success.

Chuuya knows he’s walking on a thin rope. Dazai could snap at any given moment from what he knows: he seems sleep-deprived, he’s been on edge since before the terrible attack. An attack that got Chuuya almost killed. Then Dazai got raw in front of Chuuya, and to top it all, he couldn’t prevent him from leaving the hospital. Dazai must be boiling.

It's also not counting on the fact that they still haven’t sorted anything out. Avoiding chaos isn’t as simple as it could be in their current exhausted and fragile state.

“I’d kill it in a wig, but no one should steal your spotlight, Chuuya,” Dazai sing-songs, although his eyes are doing anything but showing an ounce of humor. “I guess we’ll have to wait for that new ability of yours to wear off. No longer pretty is a very lame stunt.”

Chuuya can hear it before he sees the shift in Dazai’s eyes. The way his partner wants to swallow back his tongue but keeps pushing and gets the words out anyway just as he leans in enough to cage Chuuya between his arms, hands resting on the back of the couch. It should be a surprise to realize that Dazai regrets his words but it’s not, really… It’s obvious whatever got under Dazai's skin after that mission, on that terrible day, is still there, distressing him. And when Chuuya remembers the words Dazai blurted out when he was past his limits after realizing Chuuya hadn’t died from the crash, it comes with the weight of the guilt that seemed to be crushing Dazai more than anything.

The only problem is that nothing Chuuya did up until now really worked on making his partner spill it. Nothing except for the tragic moment he almost died in his partner’s arms…

Chuuya sighs heavy and deep, pulling his knees against his chest and averting his gaze purposefully before closing his eyes. Yeah, well… He’s had several days stuck in a hospital bed to relive the accident, the attack, and everything that happened with Dazai prior to that. Punctuated by Dazai’s antics; as if to prove Chuuya wasn’t allowed to forget about him even for a mere second.

And all this for what? After Dazai went to big lengths like losing it completely over his broken body, Chuuya would have hoped for his partner to be a little more mature about it than that. He knew not to expect it, though. 

Are you gonna let me get away with that?

It’s no longer a challenge, it’s a cry for help. 

“I’m fucking exhausted, Dazai,” he forces himself to open his eyes again and shifts them to his partner, grave and dark. “I won’t do this now. Wanna make a big point of how you’re not thirsting after my ass? Good. Point made. I’m disfigured, blah blah. I didn’t think it would be a problem, you seemed to hate it when these dudes were eyeing me like a piece of meat. Or were those just big words to put your conscience at ease?”

Dazai’s breath catches in his throat.

I told you, you can’t let people treat you that way, not even me.

Chuuya’s eyes narrow and he resists the urge to hug his legs closer by instinct because the position already hurts enough with his arms loosely circling his shins.

“Because if they were just big words, I can’t imagine what those you said when I woke up must have cost you.”

That little diatribe produces more than the desired effect. Chuuya doesn’t quite expect Dazai’s eyes to turn black. What Chuuya expects even less is the telltale sound of the leather cracking brutally behind his head, where he assumes Dazai’s hands just clawed at the material with the brute force of a bulldozer.

“The hell,” he breathes out, not feeling threatened for a second, only affected.

Dazai isn’t trying to pretend he didn’t lose his composure this time. At least, there’s that. But he doesn’t speak right away either and as the seconds stretch between them, Chuuya feels his heartbeat pick up a faster pace.

When his partner finally opens his mouth, it’s pulsing quickly enough to give Chuuya a light feeling of nausea and his eyes burn from holding Dazai’s ardent gaze.

The sad smirk that curls on Dazai’s lips is miserable and concerning, but it’s quickly explained: “How am I supposed to make it worthwhile if you do all the work for me…” he starts, leaning away from Chuuya for the first time.

He’s still in Chuuya's space, but it feels like a loss nonetheless, and when Dazai's fingers release the leather of the couch in a concerto of protesting creaks, it feels like he is letting go of Chuuya instead.

It takes a few seconds for Chuuya to realize what Dazai means. What words he’s referring to. When it does, it sure feels like a tremendous relief, something Dazai doesn’t understand because he glares at the way Chuuya’s mouth twists into a light rueful smile. 

“Don’t assume things on your own, shitty Dazai. I didn’t do shit, and I’m not doing anything else. You still have to give me a fucking proper explanation. You can apologize too. That was just giving you a headstart cause you suck.”

“You’re the one who sucks,” Dazai bites back, childish again. More relief.

“That’s cheap,” Chuuya mimics his partner, trying to ignore how his heart beats fast with excitation now.

Dazai clicks his tongue, biting his lips afterward and Chuuya can see the chap near the corner where his bottom lip split a few days ago. The fact it’s barely healing is telling. Chuuya can easily picture Dazai worrying at his lips while he waits for Chuuya to wake up.

The idea brings both comfort and a tinge of exasperation. Dazai is so obvious, yet he persists in the asshole act…

“I need to lie down,” Chuuya suddenly blurts out, pushing himself up, invading Dazai’s space on purpose and forcing him to back away. 

There’s a moment of uncertainty, when Dazai visibly wants to rush forward and sit Chuuya back on the couch but he doesn’t dare, remembering that the bruises on his face match dozens of others underneath Chuuya's clothes. 

Dazai seems to freeze right after, and so does his brain, which makes Chuuya believe Dazai might have suffered a nasty concussion in the crash. He’s rarely seen him that out of it. Somehow, it makes Chuuya more nervous too, although he was pretty confident it could be easier now. Chuuya doesn’t have the strength to carry the conversation or drive him through whatever Dazai needs to accomplish today. He could have, under other circumstances, hell, he would have but Chuuya kind of feels like it would be disappointing.

His stomach sinks a little at the thought and he rushes past his partner as fast as he can on tired, unsteady legs. The last thing Chuuya expects after that weird chain of reactions and events is for Dazai to actually run past him to hold the door to his bedroom open and grab him carefully but with a very determined expression by the elbow to guide Chuuya further inside. 

He can’t imagine how conflicted Dazai must be right now. Chuuya doesn’t mention how he can walk by himself to the bed. The help is nice and he has a feeling that if he does it, Dazai could let him go and leave the building altogether.

A single glance at his constipated expression tells Chuuya that Dazai would actually leave the Port Mafia if he isn’t careful and were to scare him away. That’s how dramatic Dazai could be. But Chuuya did almost die, something he didn’t stage. It’s dramatic enough on its own for the teenager to hope for Dazai to fucking do something.

The bed is neatly done, sheets wrinkling under Chuuya’s weight when Dazai helps him sit at the edge. 

Chuuya isn’t wearing his jacket anymore, which leaves him in his shirt and slacks and suddenly Chuuya longs for a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed to Dazai, because there are suddenly two hands at Chuuya’s collar and his heart jumps in his throat. It’s stupid, there’s nothing arounsing here, there shouldn’t be. They’ve undressed multiple times in the same room, during missions, after, before… They’ve slept in the same crappy bed in nothing but their boxers and a tee-shirt a few times even. But the last time they did that sort of things was before Chuuya had to use his right hand to get off in the shower while thinking about Dazai. It was before they kissed. Before Dazai broke down because he thought Chuuya was going to die.

“I—uh, I—” Chuuya starts, his voice coming out hoarse as if his quick pulse under Dazai’s touch wasn’t enough to betray him already.

Dazai’s fingers immediately move away, abandoning the shirt half open as he stares at Chuuya’s exposed sternum. There isn’t a bruise on Chuuya’s torso… No. There’s more of a big, persisting mark covering his whole chest. It’s a shade darker than his skin usually is, and it’s the obvious and lasting proof that Chuuya shielded Dazai from the impact by embracing him when they sunk into the hard ground. 

“I’ll go get your stuff,” Dazai croaks out before turning on his heel.

“I don’t have my st—”, Chuuya starts but his partner has already left the bedroom.

His old dressing room is empty, and for a second Chuuya wonders if Dazai is going to use that excuse to run all the way to Chuuya’s new apartments and retrieve the ugliest pair of pants he owns. Not that Chuuya owns anything ugly, but Dazai would find a way. He doesn’t. He’s back in no time, Chuuya’s duffel bag slung over his shoulder — a bag Chuuya had completely forgotten — which Dazai drops at the other teenager’s feet, unzipping it.

Chuuya lets out the shaky sigh of relief he was holding before he realizes it and that makes Dazai tense as he crouches in front of him. It takes only a millisecond but the air between them suddenly grows hot and heavy.

Dazai's head snaps up, dark hair swiping across his unbandaged face. He's almost as marked as Chuuya but that's not what Chuuya focuses on. He solely sees the chapped lips that part open slightly, wavering so slightly that Chuuya would miss it if he wasn't staring so hard. 

There are things that have always been difficult between them. Communicating isn't easy in most forms — the most expected and mundane forms of communication. Yet there's something Chuuya wouldn't trade for the world: their mutual understanding. He's never moved in synch like that with anyone, and although symbiosis is a weird concept to Chuuya, Dazai makes it feel like Chuuya is one when they're two moving. 

And moving they do, together. 

Chapter Text

Dazai rises just as Chuuya parts his legs and bends forward. They meet halfway, clumsy and fumbling with each other's hands but their mouths have no trouble finding one another. 

It hurts. Chuuya's jaw radiates with pain, his neck aches. Dazai's lips are a little stiff under his, where Chuuya knows the barely healed wound stirs as they try to taste each other. Yet, he's grateful to feel his body scream for the first time in days. Chuuya is not backing away from the kiss and wouldn't even if his life depended on it. The joints in his hands crack, the dull pain coursing through his fists rendering Chuuya's grip weak but he doesn't have to hold on too hard for Dazai to press close. 

The slight restraint his partner shows only resides in the fact that he's half standing in the most awkward position possible and doesn't want to touch Chuuya all over to avoid hurting him. Chuuya figured it out because twice Dazai reaches for his arms or chest and retracts at the first sign of Chuuya flinching or squirming. He can't help it, holding back even a wince costs a lot of energy to Chuuya. His body is in shambles. But his mind isn't. 

The anxious beast that's been playing with his mind for days on is finally quiet. Not that they sorted anything yet, but at least Chuuya knows that Dazai isn't going to back away from what he said, that he can no longer act out of spite to hide his feelings. Dazai can't fool him, and can't fool himself. It doesn't mean that Chuuya expects the situation to be under control, but it's one less worrysome thought.

Chuuya wants Dazai to know he won't let him try to act up. That he wants Dazai despite everything, so he pulls him down, ignoring the way his left wrist screams in protest or how his back hurts when Chuuya straightens at the edge of the bed to haul Dazai between his legs. 

Dazai follows in a rush; partly to ease Chuuya's movements… Mainly because he craves the contact as much as Chuuya does. The kiss is warm, hungry.  It’s entirely deliberate and although they don’t have a clue about what they’re doing, it feels instinctive. The pressure of Dazai’s mouth on Chuuya's is welcomed, even when they nip and bite occasionally, Chuuya finds it’s what he desires and he answers eagerly.

Dazai moans softly against his lips when Chuuya's hands slide along his neck and get tangled at the back of his head in the messy strands of dark hair there. Chuuya feels both like he might break all over again and like he hasn't been held together so close since he woke up. Especially when Dazai runs a hand flat under his back to ease Chuuya down on the mattress. He crawls over him in the process, standing on all four over Chuuya and bent as best as he can to not part away from him. 

It feels like they both fear it might be the only chance they get, whether it's because one will regret it or the other might ruin it by talking afterward. Chuuya wants to have a little more faith in them than that but even then he's not ready to let go. 

Dazai's tongue breaches past his lips and his eyes roll to the back of his head. His knees ache when he bends them unconsciously to get closer to the body above him. Really they could hurt like they're breaking, Chuuya would still try to brush against Dazai's thighs, basking in the sloppy heated mess that their kiss is slowly becoming. If only he could, he'd trap Dazai's narrow waist between his legs. Chuuya gets frustrated about his own condition more than he's ever been since he woke up.

Dazai is careful when he touches him, yet he gets carried away so easily Chuuya would be smug about it if he wasn't burning from the slightest touch, melting into him and clinging onto his partner as desperately as he did when they were falling through the sky. 

Dazai's hand slowly cups Chuuya's jaw before running down his neck, sliding inside his half open shirt, brushing his ribs before wrapping around his waist, his tongue searching every corner of Chuuya's mouth and Chuuya feels a little like he's falling all over again. But this time he's engulfed in a warm bubble, it feels safe. Dazai is falling with him, against him but he's not scared of the impact.

Chuuya's hands around Dazai's neck pull although it's still not enough so Chuuya pushes past the aching in his body and his legs come up to circle Dazai's waist and drag him in. And Dazai crashes. 

Chuuya keens into his mouth as pain flares up. Dazai's eyes snap open as he tries to pull away but Chuuya doesn't let him. He bites on his partner's bottom lip, keeping him close and giving him no choice but to dive in even deeper. 

Chuuya can't breath, Dazai better make up for it. The only thing Chuuya needs right now is to feel how Dazai wants him just as much as he needs the person he trusts the most in the world to hold him. 

Still, Dazai struggles — both against Chuuya's grip and his own will apparently — and tears himself away from the kiss. He hovers close, just above Chuuya, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide, his breath coming out ridiculously short. He keeps close enough that Chuuya has to crane his neck to fully see Dazai's face, including his glistening and swollen lips.  They're ravished.

They’re panting, hot breath mingling, until Dazai closes his mouth to swallow quite audibly, crawling away from Chuuya to sit back on his heels at the edge of the bed. Chuuya props himself on his elbows, trying to follow but he hurts too much and he’s too drained, dropping back onto the mattress immediately with a short huff. 

It might be better to look at the ceiling anyway, because the moment his gaze crossed Dazai’s, a thousand reasons to panic hit him.

Dazai doesn’t seem any calmer, twisting his hands in his lap furiously. It’s weird how in movies, the turning point of a relationship, a breaking point, a very important moment in life is always magnified by some dramatic lighting, a grand gesture in slow-motion or a powerful track that sticks in the head for ages.

There’s nothing like that right now. The room is barely lit, getting darker and darker as the sun sets. They’re barely moving yet fidgeting awkwardly and it’s to the dissonant sound of their erratic respirations and stuttering heartbeat. 

Dazai’s first words have the most dramatic impact regardless: “I didn’t realize I had forgotten what it felt like to really want to die, you know. But you wouldn’t wake up...”

The most striking thing about it is that for once he’s not playing, not pretending, not over-reacting. His voice is quiet, slightly uneven, cracking even. Chuuya’s heart clenches painfully. 

“But at least, before, I didn’t hate myself. I loathed everything else, but I was quite content with myself. This time, I was a little displeased…”

It gets worse, Chuuya realizes, his throat closing up. He has to shut his eyes too. Dazai downgrading it, using dismissive understatements… oh, Chuuya can hear the bitterness, he feels it into his bones. It's nothing like when Dazai parades around, like the superb dramatist he knows to be. The slightest vexation emphasised to a grand show. No... right now, Chuuya knows that Dazai is probably spiralling down a circle of self-loathing and hatred that he'll minimize.

It sounds more bitter and nasty as Dazai goes on: “You never make it easy, you see. Before, I did not care, because nothing was really exciting enough for me to lose control anyway. Then you have the nerves to appear in my life and make things exciting yet you’d leave me just like that. For the sake of saving me."

There's a pause.

"I really wanted to fucking die, Chuuya.”

And a feeling of vertigo that leaves Chuuya helpless.

“Dazai,” he tries, shutting his eyes tighter, screwing his face as if he could block the words he's not so sure he wants to hear anymore.

Oh, Chuuya wanted Dazai to open up, to be sorry, to say so, but now that the words are bleeding out of his mouth and they carry so much resentment and sorrow, it's another story. It doesn't only hurt Chuuya… Dazai clearly is the one in pain and although there's no way around it and they have to go through it now that the gates are open, it feels unbearable.

Dazai won't leave it at that anyway. The words pour out and Chuuya gets more and more restless as Dazai goes on a terrible spree.

“This would be twisted enough, but there’s worse! You come up and mess things up for me, and I can pretend I hate you for that when in fact I’m having the time of my life. It’s just still not the worst. I went and fucked things up all by myself, and I did so bad I didn’t deserve any better than to watch you die with that on my conscience. I’m so sorry Chuuya. You really didn’t deserve that…”

There’s something more terrible than hearing the heartfelt apology. It’s to see Dazai slide off the bed progressively, until he’s standing a good meter away from it, visibly resenting himself so much that he can’t stand staying physically close. Chuuya not only felt it but had no other choice but to open his eyes and watch Dazai walk away in the growing darkness. 

“But I still did it. I couldn’t bear my own feelings and pretended it was on you. I’m not even going to say I don’t know what I did to deserve what came slapping me in the face afterwards… I did a ton of nasty shit.  Honestly did. So much that I’m not sure why you actually woke up and I got the chance today to tell you all that.”

Chuuya has a serious idea. Grieving his partner would have been the most painful ordeal, he’s not going to deny it, but Dazai doesn’t seem to understand that he keeps enduring the punishment. And that he’s partly responsible for it, inflicting himself the unreasonable weight of it all. Chuuya has his own demons to take care of, but he’s starting to figure out what gnaws Dazai from inside when he lets them get the better of him.

Chuuya wants to scream when he thinks about the words they exchanged mere minutes earlier — it feels like ages ago. Giving you a headstart… It was never going to be easy.

Chuuya wants to get off the bed and go after Dazai but it’s terribly difficult to move past getting into a sitting position now that it’s all coming down on him, crushing him mercilessly. Although if his body is going to betray him, his voice won’t. It’s unwavering and as determined as he’s ever been when Chuuya speaks up: “Come back here. I fucking can’t, but I’ll find a way to make you if you keep this up, Dazai. So you get back here now. I really am not asking.”

Dazai flinches, barely, but even from afar and in the dark, Chuuya sees him, and it compels him to add: “I need you to do it. I need you.”

The other teenager finally moves back toward the bed, but it’s too tentative for Chuuya to consider it a win. Chuuya shifts on the covers so he sits in the center of the bed, giving his partner more space to approach, like he would with a wounded animal whose trust needs to be earned before even thinking of mending anything. It takes another eternity. Chuuya feels like this evening is going lethally slowly, but Dazai finally climbs back onto the mattress, still keeping an unnecessary distance after the heat they shared, the obvious need to get closer… A distance that is killing them both but that he can’t bring himself to breach and that Chuuya can’t close himself if he wants this to work. But maybe he can coax Dazai into doing it.

“You know I didn’t catch you up just because we’re work partners, Dazai. You know I didn’t catch you because it’s what I’m supposed to do, according to a fucking plan that we never even tested before.”

“You could have let me fall,” Dazai says, averting his eyes and Chuuya hears should instead of could.

His shoulders sink, voice rising: “Yeah? I could slap you too, right about now if I didn’t have a split bone in my wrist, Dazai. I could do it just like I did before we went there that night.”

“You should have done worse than slapping me,” Dazai groans, tongue toying with the wound left back then.

“You’re an awful person,” Chuuya snaps. “Which I knew when I slapped you. And also when I caught you up.”

“I know.”

“I’m an awful person too. But I admitted it, and I apologized everytime I had to. You’re doing it too right now. That’s all I want. A little honesty, and saying you’re sorry. I fucking get the rest already. I get it, Dazai. I don’t need you to hurt yourself to see it.”

Dazai closes his mouth in a line so thin it seems to hurt. Whatever is going inside his brain doesn’t seem lovely.

“They were words, Dazai. Honestly you’ve been fucking terrible but look at it this way: if we hadn’t been in that mess right after… just a normal night. You'd have been an asshole, and we'd have slept on it. Or else... if you tell me you would still be like this now, then you have to tell me what’s making you freak—”

“Are you for real?” Dazai suddenly shouts, and it’s a total relief to see him animated again, heated, feeling something and acting out. 

“Yeah! Tell me!” Chuuya spurs him on, gesturing a little too wildly, arms thrown in the air.

His body hates him but he doesn't even think about it.

“For the love of God, why do you want me to say it so bad? I treated you like a slut, I called you a whore, and I panicked because I wanted to kill every guy in the fucking room when they did the same—”

“No! You panicked long after they were all dead already and you realized you had another problem! Be a little honest god fucking damnit!” Chuuya shouts back, getting on his knees to jab Dazai in the chest, which is immediately followed by a loud curse as Chuuya curls up into a ball, holding his wrist against himself, teeth clenched as he hisses low in his throat.

It's that, — more than Chuuya's rightful accusation— that brings the whole excalating situation to a jarring halt. Dazai is immediately on him, peeling Chuuya’s arms away to help him get into a more relaxed position. Then Dazai does the most tender thing possible and dips Chuuya back until he's laying on the mattress again. 

"I told them you weren't ready to be discharged," Dazai mutters, resting a hand near Chuuya's face, scrutinizing the multiple healing wounds and barely fading bruises. 

"That's what you were doing?" Chuuya scoffs half-heartedly, feeling bitter. 

Dazai disappears from his line of sight for a second and suddenly the mattress dips under him as he lays next to Chuuya, facing the ceiling. A few too long seconds pass, adding to Chuuya's nervousness and leaving him all the time in the world to dread Dazai's next words, regretting how wildly he lets him get under his skin. Until eventually, finally, Dazai sighs long and hard.

"Yeah. I had another problem, you're right," he finally admits. "Fuck. For heaven's—Just… How? How exactly did you expect me not to freak out Chuuya? It's that easy for you to be all over me?" 

"Oi!" Chuuya barks immediately, aggressive. 

"No," Dazai realizes his mistake too late and looks genuinely horrified. "That's not what I'm implying this time, oh god," he groans as he hides his face in his hands. 

"Well, then, do fucking explain yourself genius. Because if you call me a whore one more—"

"That's not it! I'm just saying you don't seem to panic about the fucking fact that I was jealous and we clearly wanted to... We were... I wanted to kiss you so badly? I want you, dammit, Chuuya! I wanted you so badly? I do want you! And it's not just physical. You guessed that! It wasn't just about kissing. Everything I told you when you woke up. I want you, and I want you safe. And I don't know how you do it, how you're okay with all this as if it was simple! As if I had a right to hope for more! 'Pisses me off!" 

Chuuya tries to roll onto his side, groans in pain, then huffs out a long terribly frustrated sigh because Dazai just finally, finally, said the words Chuuya needed to hear, he wanted to hear. What Chuuya knew all along. And that makes his heart leap in his throat, pulsing loud and fast enough to make him slightly nauseous. His stomach acts up, twisting in impossible knots. Isn't this supposed to be butterflies? Chuuya really isn't a fan of the reaction but deep down, the excitation is genuine, and when they'll be done sorting it out, he knows he'll be able to revel in it. Right now, it's a weird feeling Chuuya welcomes nonetheless. It helps him going on. Dazai needs him to go on, no matter what, to answer, because he's become awfully quiet over the last seconds it takes for Chuuya to process the confession. An eternity he knows could scare Dazai away permanently.

"Dude," Chuuya starts, unable to find a romantic introduction that would really not help anyway. "I freaked the fuck out that night, even before you arrived and pulled the whole asshole act! I just didn't think it would help to hurt you because of it. I went into a whole shitstorm up there, ok? It's not like I was all cool realizing I wanted you to slap my ass again? and you think it was just that? You think I'm flipping off just because I want us to bang? You can be so dense, sometimes."

Dazai flinches next to him. 

"I didn't know what else to do… and you didn't stop me… and—" 

"I punched you square in the jaw! I threw you out of my room. Dazai, I wanted to send you flying through the ceiling! I did try to stop you. You just got way too into it. Just like you were doing just now…" Chuuya sounds less aggravated than he was previously but his nerves are about to break between the tremendous exhaustion and the paradoxical surge of adrenaline from the confession that makes his mind reel.

The next words come out almost shyly but carrying all the fire that lights up his soul, mumbled as he turns his face toward Dazai: "Except you're not trying to hurt me this time and I can't stand it. I can't stand the self-loathing."

"I just can't hurt you—" 

"You're gonna burn out some day if you keep letting it eat you inside, you stupid idiot! So snap out of your 'lil fantasies, will you? I stop you plenty when you're being an absolute fucker. I'm still sticking with you anyway. That's what I'm doing right now. I could throw you out again and sleep for a whole week instead of being so clingy I want to off myself. So if you think I'm not doing it willingly, then you're not dense, you're right out brain-dead!" 

This time he doesn't sound shy, his exhaustion makes Chuuya cranky and his need to put his lips back on Dazai without knowing if he'll ever be allowed to do it again adds to the fire that compels him to push for it. 

“I’m gonna hurt you, some day,” Dazai says, looking resolutely at the ceiling, but still…

His hand shyly searches the space between them anyway, fingers tentatively brushing Chuuya’s, and suddenly they’re intertwined with Chuuya’s and Chuuya has a hard time breathing.

“So what? This a competition?” he asks, voice higher than he expected so he squeezes Dazai’s hand tightly to gain back some composure. “Because if so, let me remind you I hurt you first.” 

“Hurt you more.”

“Hurt you harder.”

“Will hurt you last.”

This isn’t a promise, more like a bad omen Dazai seems adamant to want to cast.  It should deter Chuuya, but if nothing did until now, this isn’t what is going to make him back-pedal.

“Someone has to, right? Be the last. Please, Dazai, stop. What's the point even! I'm telling you it's f—”

“What if it’s one too many times?” Dazai cuts him off, desperately. “What if the last time is the time there’s no coming back? What if I hurt you so much we just can't go—”

He doesn’t even seem to be saying all this to push Chuuya away, or to hurt himself. The teenager looks genuinely worried, scared even. He’s not doing it on purpose, or else, he’d pretend better that it’s all to crush Chuuya’s hopes away. Dazai would play. He’s not playing now, fingers numb in the vice of Chuuya’s grip but still clenching back.

Chuuya doesn’t know how to fill the darkness that eats at Dazai when he isn’t looking. He’s never known, yet somehow, since they met, he observed the minute changes in his partner. He knows he can mend some of these parts together, if Dazai lets him. Chuuya succeeded before. It’s hazardous and risky, but Chuuya’s never blushed before the task. 

Dazai finally rolls on his side, bringing their joined hands up between their faces. Chuuya squirms to adjust so he can face him properly despite how much his body wants to give up on cooperating. 

“What if you trust us a little? I don't mean me, I don't mean yourself. Have a little faith in us.” 

It’s not really accusatory but the point comes across and Dazai averts his gaze. Chuuya shifts enough so he can get his lips to brush against his partner’s knuckles. That makes Dazai look up again and when their eyes meet, Chuuya’s throat dries, his heart missing a beat.

Dazai wants to. Despite the shadow lingering in his gaze, despite how scary it can be. Chuuya can feel it, Dazai wants to believe it, he wants to have faith. And it makes him so hopeful suddenly that Chuuya can’t even be ashamed of the way his eyes get bright. 

He blinks a couple of times, trying to look away, to hide the moment of weakness when he’s trying so hard to put on a brave face. And just when he screws his eyes shut to blink the tears away, Dazai closes the gap between them again and presses his mouth at the corner of Chuuya’s. They freeze, the sharp intake of breath coming from Chuuya frightening them both, until they melt into each other all over again. He didn't expect Dazai to act anymore, yet he's all over him, silently asking for more as he envelops Chuuya with his arms, covers every part of Chuuya with his touch, his mouth, his breath, his entire being.

It’s a little less of a frenzy this time, and a lot more passionate. They’re desperate. Desperate to touch, to find comfort, to offer some, to feel each other. They’re desperate for each other. 

Dazai swallows every breathy moan, every little whimper. Chuuya tastes, and bites, touches and drinks every little whisper. 

It grows so hot, so intimate, that when they finally part for air, Chuuya’s never felt this wrecked. Dazai isn’t doing better, completely entranced as he sets his burning, searching gaze on Chuuya. 

His breathing is deep, erratic, and he clings onto Chuuya’s hand between them and in the strands of coppery hair that are getting longer at the side of his neck — as if he never intends to let him go again. Maybe Dazai doesn’t. Chuuya's heart feels like bursting. Maybe he finally will have a little faith. Maybe Chuuya gave him the reassurance Dazai needed.

Still… Dazai has to ask, again.

“What if it’s one too many times, Chuuya…”

And Chuuya knows, he’s sure, he never wants to let go of him ever again. Be it through hell, and for the worst, he’ll walk the only path that can lead him to Dazai, no matter what. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It's a bone-deep feeling, Dazai will be there, around any corner, at the end of any path Chuuya finds himself on. He'll be a mess, he'll be making him crazy, he'll be going crazy himself, but there can't be any other way. It hasn't since the day they collided in the dirty little streets of Suribachi city.

“Well…” he says breathless, a hand cupping Dazai’s face gently. Chuuya doesn’t need to think about it, in the end. He’s always known. “You always bring me back, right?”