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This was the third time this week Chuuya had been woken by a knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning. The perpetrator only knocked thrice and then waited. He knew Chuuya was a light sleeper.
Chuuya was exhausted. More than usual because of these midnight visits. The bed called to him just as loudly as the knocking on the door did. Unfortunately, the knocking on the door was more important than his warm, inviting bed. Chuuya managed to push the blanket off himself and mournfully dragged his body up and away from the bed.
There was a hair tie on his nightstand, and he snatched it before messily tying his hair back. He didn’t both trying to look presentable or awake for his guest. However he looked would no doubt be better than the person standing outside in the hallway. Chuuya unlocked the door. The usual suspect wasn’t standing there, no one was, but it wasn’t hard to find him; Chuuya only had to turn his head.
There he was, sitting on the hallway floor, eyes fixed on nothing even though he knew Chuuya was there. After waiting a few moments, it was clear the man didn’t plan on moving from his spot, and Chuuya stepped into the hall. He closed his front door behind him slowly so as to not create noise and alert any of the other occupants of the building. His presence wasn’t acknowledged even as he sat down next to his nightly guest.
Chuuya sat next to him and for a moment there was silence between them. Chuuya didn’t look at him when he started talking in a soft manner. “Dazai, this can’t keep happening."
Dazai kept his eyes fixed on the wall across them. Away from Chuuya, no he could never look at Chuuya. He was too humiliated. Every time he ended up on Chuuya’s doorstep in the dead of night was a stab at his pride. But he didn’t know what else to do.
Chuuya closed his eyes and took a long breath. He knew what to do. Tonight, he was putting his foot down. Refusing wasn’t an option anymore, not when it was getting this bad.
“Tomorrow, we are going to the dorms to get your things and move them into my apartment.”
“No,” Dazai whispered. The same argument over and over. Dazai didn’t need people. He didn’t have any weaknesses and didn’t rely on anyone except himself. At least, that’s what the man kept telling himself despite time and time again being proved wrong.
“You can’t live alone right now, Dazai.”
“Yes, I can.” His voice was nothing more than a feeble mumble. To accept help was to admit weakness, and Dazai Osamu was not weak. He couldn’t be, not with the life he lived. Chuuya shuffled to his knees, moving until he was in front of Dazai, and reached out to turn his partner’s face so he had to look at the mafioso. The younger unwillingly met Chuuya’s eyes.
“Osamu, you can’t do this,” Chuuya said firmly, "and I can't help you if you only come to me at your very worst.”
A self-deprecating smile appeared on Dazai’s face. “Another thing to add to the list.”
What could he possibly say to that? Instead, he exhaled and pressed on. “This isn’t like your usual symptoms. It never lasts this long, which means we’re dealing with something new.”
Dazai jerked his chin out of Chuuya’s hand and brought his legs up to his chest so he could rest his cheek on his knee. All Chuuya could see was the side of his face, eyes cast downwards, and taking subtle, short breaths to manage himself.
Chuuya’s heart ached, it really did. This drawn-out depressive episode was worst than the short ones that dipped low fast but also didn't take too long to end. They usually didn’t last more than a day or two, and Dazai had time to mentally recuperate and not feel like absolute shit between them. But this? Dazai didn’t have any time to recover because it didn’t stop. Hadn’t stopped for three weeks now. Sure his intrusive thoughts weren’t as vicious as usual, but they were unrelenting.
It was crushing Dazai.
Mercilessly.
There was no light at the end of the tunnel, no, Dazai was lost in the darkness. But Chuuya had to drop this argument for Dazai to move in with him for now. Continuing to press Dazai in the hallway wasn’t going to do anything but make Dazai more agitated and feel trapped.
“Chuuya’s always so quick to run to my feet,” Dazai stated with casual heartlessness in his tone and a sham of a smile on his lips. “And now he wants to be my dog full time.”
Dazai was shutting down. Too many emotions and too few thoughts through the storm of hell in his mind overwhelmed Dazai to the point where it was too internally draining to try to handle it anymore, leading to his default mechanism of protecting himself. Being mean. Forcing out the people who came too close when he was vulnerable.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying as hell or even hurtful when Dazai went too far. And he went too far too often for Chuuya’s liking.
“What does Chuuya know about caring for people? He grew up in a tube as a science experiment.”
And there goes Chuuya’s patience and kindness.
Chuuya got to his feet and snatched a fistful of Dazai’s hair with the intention for it to hurt and pulled up, forcing Dazai to stand. A small yelp of pain came from behind Chuuya as he dragged his shitty partner inside and to the bedroom. Chuuya’s bedroom was more than familiar to Dazai. He had his own side of the bed. Own nightstand. Own portion of the closet for his clothes.
Once they were in there, the older roughly shoved Dazai backward and let go of his hair so he tripped and fell onto the bed. Chuuya barely restrained himself from punching Dazai as hard as he could at the sheer audacity of Dazai's insult.
“Just because you don’t feel well, doesn’t mean you can be a fucking asshole,” Chuuya hissed. “I am doing everything I can to help you, the least you could do is shut the fuck up.”
Dazai nodded with no emotion on his face. That only pissed Chuuya off more than he already was. “Next time you call me a science experiment, don’t expect to come out of it with a relationship.”
Dazai looked at him with guilty, empty eyes, a stark contrast to the blankness painting his face seconds ago. There was a small, very small part of it that was genuine, but Chuuya knew most of it was extremely played up to get his sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Chuuya’s nostrils flared as he stomped to his side of the bed. Another empty apology. Dazai didn't even know what he was apologizing for, just saying what Chuuya wanted to hear.
“You know what, Osamu, I really don’t care right now. I’m tired and going back to bed," Chuuya said as he aggressively pulled the blanket over himself once he was on laying down. “Wake me up if you need me, shitty bastard.”
Chuuya took a breath to calm himself. There was no way he’d be able to sleep with how keyed up he was. Some time passed before Chuuya was able to settle down. The bed creaked behind him as Dazai moved then Chuuya felt the mattress dip slightly as Dazai laid down next to him.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Dazai uttered quietly although it sounded like he was talking more to himself. Chastising himself for hurting Chuuya.
Chuuya turned to face Dazai, who was sprawled on his back. He could see the regret and anxiety dancing in Dazai’s eyes. Intrusive thoughts turned manageable guilt into severe doubt and fear that Chuuya would leave or question their relationship because he said the wrong thing. At least Dazai was actually grasping the situation now, peeking past his own self-regard and understanding that he couldn't say whatever he wanted, especially to Chuuya, without repercussions.
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“You hate me,” Dazai murmured. Stewing in his own juice was fine and even beneficial for Dazai, but when it took a turn and became more detrimental, causing him to withdraw into himself, Chuuya knew he had to step in and fix it before the situation got worse.
Dazai showed remorse for his actions, which was a rare thing for him, and meant he was aware of how harmful his words had been. Chuuya's anger wasn't going to go away, but for now, he had to push it to the side.
Chuuya sighed as he flipped onto his stomach and let his face drop onto his crossed arms. He turned his head so he could look at Dazai.
“Yea, I do hate you, but unfortunately I love you more. Even when you're a jerk."
Dazai gazed at him with a sad confusion on his face. “Why do you stay with me?”
“I ask myself that every day,” Chuuya said casually as he leaned over and pressed a long kiss against Dazai’s temple. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
Dazai’s lips turned upwards. A mutual understanding passed between them. They were okay at the moment and Chuuya wasn't planning on leaving Dazai. Chuuya rolled so he was on his side.
“You should try to sleep,” Chuuya said as he ran his thumb under Dazai’s eye. “You look horrible.”
“Slug’s always such a charmer.” His voice held playful traces, and Chuuya couldn't help but keep the ball moving. He wanted to hear more of that, and this was their normalcy. A sort of test for Dazai to know if the older really had forgiven him.
“I’m very charismatic, shithead,” Chuuya grumbled as Dazai wormed his way into Chuuya’s arms. The mafioso shut his eyes again, begging any god out there that he and Dazai would pass out till morning. The hushed words that left Dazai’s mouth were so quiet, Chuuya barely caught them. “I really am sorry.”
No further words of reassurance had to be spoken. Dazai already knew by the way Chuuya held him close and didn’t let go.
The body in his arms was pulling away, causing Chuuya to wake up and blinked blearily as he tried to figure out what was happening. His eyes landed on Dazai, who was sitting up with his back against the headboard. A somber aura surrounded him, shoulders slumped as if weighed down by thousands of pounds and ashen, sickly face complemented by his cloudy eyes. Chuuya sat up as well and scooted closer to Dazai so their shoulders brushed together.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
He shrugged.
No words would help the situation right now so Chuuya didn’t say any. He didn’t feel a need to fill the silence either, and wouldn’t babytalk Dazai with sweet words and apologies to try to make him feel better. Because it wouldn’t. So he waited for a glimpse of the war consuming Dazai to slip out of his lips.
“I’m tired,” Dazai finally whispered. Chuuya knew there was a double meaning behind those weary words. “I’m so tired.”
"Anything particular this time?"
"No, I—" His voice came out hoarse, "I'm just tired. I'm trying to hang on but—" He shuddered and blew out a shaky breath. The suffering never ended. Chuuya knew he couldn't make this go away, no matter how much he wanted to, but he would be there. Chuuya reached out, but didn't touch, waiting for Dazai's permission. When Dazai tensed, he withdrew his hand and placed it back on his own lap.
Neither said anything. It seemed like Dazai just wanted to sit there for now. Going back to sleep right now wasn’t an option. Chuuya refused to leave Dazai alone with his demons.
“Can I turn my lamp on low, Osamu?”
When Dazai nodded, Chuuya leaned over and flicked it on before grabbing the book on his nightstand. Purposeful space was left between them. He opened his book and picked up where he last left off, glancing over at Dazai every now and then. It became increasingly harder to sit still when his partner was zoning out a foot away, nothing marking his presence except the occasional tears running down his cheeks.
Thirty pages in, Dazai started digging his fingers into his forearms, and only then did Chuuya put his book down and take the younger’s wrists in a gentle hold to ease them away from each other.
Chuuya didn’t say anything, just rubbed his thumbs against Dazai’s pulse points, covered by the familiar texture of bandages. He hadn’t noticed Dazai was still wearing them. Taking them off had a 50/50 chance of helping him or making it worse. Sometimes, they were suffocating him while other times they were the only thing holding him together.
“Samu, do you want to take the bandages off?”
Dazai thought for a moment before nodding.
“Do you want me to take them off for you?”
Dazai held his wrist out for Chuuya. It always gave the mafioso whiplash how the loud, boisterous man that was Dazai Osamu could have such a little, barely noticeable presence when he wanted to. And it wasn’t like the Demon Prodigy’s behavior either, who was just as silent but exuded malicious power that made most avoid him at all costs.
It was a lonely existence.
“They’re too tight,” Dazai croaked. It seemed like they’d been bothering him for a while now, but he hadn’t realized it was the bandages that were causing his irritation. Now that he did know, he needed them off.
“They’ll be off soon, Mackerel.”
The process of undoing the bandages was a silent affair. Chuuya focused on his task while Dazai watched. Thanks to Chuuya’s speed, all the bandages were off in under five minutes. There weren’t any new cuts on his arms since the last time Chuuya had to patch them up two days ago, which Chuuya found a foolish comfort in.
When his skin was bare, Dazai absently rubbed his wrists against each other as his eyes skimmed the room, rapidly jumping from place to place. He was restless. Couldn’t just sit in bed anymore, and needed a change in scenery.
“Do you want to do something? We can take a bath or we could go lay on the couch. I could also read to you…?”
“Couch.”
Chuuya slid off the bed, squeezing Dazai's hand before grabbing something from one of their locked cabinets and walking to the living room. Dazai trailed out behind him. The remote turned on the tv and Chuuya chose a random lighthearted movie for them, putting the volume on low before laying down. Dazai crawled onto the couch and sunk into his partner's arms, adjusting slightly so his head was resting on Chuuya’s upper chest and Chuuya’s arm was around his back.
The large blanket they kept on the couch was thrown over them by Chuuya, from a few inches past their toes all the way to Dazai’s shoulders. It was probably the softest blanket Chuuya owned, and it'd only found permanent residence on the couch in the last month due to how regular of an occurrence nights like these were.
“You comfy, princess?” Chuuya teased. Dazai just hummed and closed his eyes. No witty response. No dramatic whine of Chuuya’s name. Nothing. He didn’t have it in him to fake it with Chuuya, not right now.
“Do you want to try to take melatonin? We don’t have to work tomorrow so you don’t have to worry about grogginess.”
Dazai wordlessly held out his hand. He must have been feeling even worse than Chuuya thought if he was accepting medication not used for suicide attempts without a fight, especially one that had annoying side effects. All Chuuya could hope was that they would work tonight.
The pills were quickly swallowed. Chuuya’s lips rested on the crown of the younger’s head as he turned his attention to the movie, which was barely loud enough to hear. They both preferred it that way though. It didn’t take long for Chuuya to feel a damp spot appear on his shirt, followed by Dazai’s faint sniffling.
Chuuya drew Dazai up and closer to him so he could tilt his head against his partner's. They were both exhausted, but Chuuya would take the demons in Dazai’s head in a heartbeat. His partner has suffered from them enough.
“You’re not alone, Osamu. You’re never alone with me,” Chuuya whispered against Dazai’s forehead. His lover pulled the blanket further over himself so his entire body was covered, hiding from him once again. But that was fine with Chuuya. He didn’t expect anything from Dazai right now, and hiding under a blanket was definitely one of Dazai’s better coping mechanisms.
Chuuya rubbed his back, and, at some point, Dazai’s grip on the blanket relaxed. A little more time and the blanket was lowered to his chin.
Chuuya spared a look down. The detective’s glassy eyes were drooping as he stared at the tv. Looks like it was going to be another full night on the couch for them. He didn’t bother trying to coerce Dazai back to the bedroom. Most of the time, that resulted in Dazai agreeing only to leave the room once Chuuya fell asleep.
So the couch it would be.
Dazai’s eyes shut and stayed closed. It was too soon to be optimistic though. On good days, sleeping through the night was not usually an easy task for Dazai. On nights like tonight, Dazai was lucky to sleep for more than an hour straight.
But Chuuya dared to hope.
His own eyes closed. Fatigue and over-tiredness made themselves known, and, now that Dazai was resting, he could get some shut-eye as well. For Dazai’s sake, he prayed his mackerel would stay asleep until morning.
The next morning, the older woke up in a room endowed with the morning’s light. The tv was still on, and the ambiance of the room was deceivingly tranquil, but the best part was that Dazai was still asleep.
A small smile graced Chuuya’s face in well-deserved relief. He had no idea what time it was, but it didn’t matter. He would lay there all day if Dazai stayed asleep. Chuuya’s wish was granted for a few hours. He dozed as he pet Dazai’s hair until a shifting against him disrupted his peace. Chuuya opened his eyes to look at Dazai only to see his partner staring right back at him.
“Hi,” Chuuya said as he pecked Dazai’s forehead. “You finally got some good sleep last night.”
“Mhm.” Dazai wrapped his arms tighter around the gravity user and wedged his face under Chuuya’s chin, forcing his head up.
“No, please, go right ahead,” Chuuya said sarcastically.
“Chibi’s a good pillow,” Dazai mumbled. The grogginess had in fact apparently decided to plague Dazai this morning. Chuuya knew Dazai loathed grogginess with a passion when it came to medication side effects, but he was being a trooper so far.
The days he was really over it were not pretty.
Chuuya slipped his hand under the back of Dazai’s shirt and traced small circles and zigzags across his partner’s bare skin with his nails. Dazai sighed as his body melted against Chuuya. “That’s a relief. I don’t know what I would’ve done with my life if I wasn’t pillow-approved.”
“By me,” Dazai added sleepily as he smushed his face against Chuuya’s neck.
Chuuya snorted at his ridiculous partner. “Yes, by you, Osamu.”
Goosebumps protruded from the skin under Chuuya’s fingers, and Dazai shivered pleasantly when Chuuya’s fingers trailed over a particularly sensitive spot. He really didn’t want to ruin the moment, but Dazai seemed to be in a relatively stable mood this morning regardless of his lethargy, so now would be the best time to get things done. “I want to head to the dorms to grab your stuff soon. Would you rather shower and eat before or after we go?”
Three tasks. Usually, Dazai could barely get through one with Chuuya’s help. The shower and eating alone were things Dazai thoroughly disliked but moving his stuff? Something he vehemently didn’t want to do? Today was going to be difficult.
“That’s a lot of things,” Dazai said in a small voice. Even the thought of them was making him anxious. Chuuya went from scratching Dazai’s back to kneading it soothingly, trying to get his partner to relax as he grew increasingly upset. The contrast between Chuuya’s warmth and Dazai’s cold skin always felt nice for both boys.
“It is,” Chuuya agreed.
“I’ll shower and eat if we don’t go to the dorms,” Dazai said, trying to make a deal that would get him out of it even though he knew Chuuya would never take it. Chuuya tried to sway Dazai using logic. “Osamu, you were planning to move in in a few months anyway. This would just be pushing up our timeframe.”
“It’s different.” Because then it was his choice. Now it wasn’t.
Taking the reins from Dazai in this sort of situation was not fun. Saying he was miserable didn’t even scratch the tip of the iceberg of how complicated and deep Dazai’s feelings were about being truly powerless.
Chuuya continued talking in a low, calm voice. Getting irritated or loud would probably be the worst thing he could do in this situation. For one, Dazai would only push back harder if he thought Chuuya was emotionally compromised, and therefore not thinking logically enough to maneuver whatever shit the younger would try to pull. And this conversation already had Dazai on high alert, ready to lash out to protect himself, as he did last night.
Although he didn’t think Osamu would try to pull that shit today, he also didn’t want this to turn into a shouting match. That would only prolong the moving, and lord knows Chuuya needed this to happen a week ago. But instead, as usual, he gave in to Dazai’s wishes.
Not today. He wasn’t going to budge, even if that meant dragging Dazai all the way there.
“You came to me because you know I’ll take care of you," Chuuya stated with confidence. Dazai shrugged, yet he couldn’t argue Chuuya’s words. “The move-in won’t be permanent unless you want it to be, but I need you to try Mackerel. I need you to trust me on this one.”
Trust.
Arguably the one thing that’s kept their relationship standing throughout the years. The trust they had in each other ran deep and was something they worked hard in their younger years to build. So when one of them said “trust me,” the other usually didn’t think twice about it. It was the one thing they could always fall back on should they have reason to doubt their partner.
“That’s mean, Chuuya,” Dazai mumbled dejectedly. Chuuya waited patiently as the ex-mafioso thought about it, even though they both already knew what decision Dazai would make. The younger spoke, albeit reluctantly. “Okay.”
Chuuya grinned and pressed a kiss to Dazai’s cheek.
“Chuuya’s such a slobbery dog,” Dazai complained and although the words were usually teasing, they sounded woeful as he said them. Chuuya felt a little guilty for turning the good morning into a bad day because he knew there was little chance Dazai would bounce back, especially when they had to actually do the tasks that would no doubt be draining and mentally taxing, but in the long run, one ruined day would bring months of actual support instead of Dazai dealing with the brunt of it on his own.
Today would be hard and the next one probably would be too, but at some point, the bad days would start to fade. When those days start to fade away, they wouldn’t be replaced by happiness, not at first, but by fear, mourning, shame, longing, guilt… and those days would eventually start to dwindle as well.
They would never go away completely, but there would be better days, days that were neither good nor bad but manageable. And then one good day would appear. And then another. And another. It takes time, but things would change.
Slowly, things would get better.
This was just the first step.