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Horrifically, the sky was bright and clear orange, and the sun shined brightly. Dazai hated that he couldn’t enjoy the warm sun on his skin. He felt so cold all the time. Even when it was warm enough outside for a sweater or jacket, he always seemed to be freezing inside his clothes. The only thing that could keep him alive was cigarettes, naturally due to their hot nature. In Japan, they were expensive, but they never burned. Not like real cigarettes, not like the cheap ones from the vending machines at the train station in the middle of winter. To get one stick, you have to spend three or four times what a normal amount would be in the summer. So even if he liked them, they still made him feel empty inside.
Dazai had to go on another mission, for what felt like the hundredth time today. He practically never had downtime anymore. This is mainly when he ventured out somewhat secretly to purchase cheap cigarettes and smoke stupidly cheap beer. He hoped that eventually, they’d shut down his lungs so he wouldn’t have to go back inside for another day of work. So here he was, slouching in a back alleyway near a safe house owned by the Mafia. This is because he didn't want to file a mission report or start on his next one. And of course, the cherry on top of it all? It was only Monday. It was sad how little he cared about his… Job.
Chuuya hates mornings.
He woke up slowly, with heavy eyelids and slow thoughts. His brain felt sluggish after sleeping in. Then as soon as he opened his eyes, a loud ringing blasted in his ears like the most horrific alarm clock imaginable. Chuuya cursed under his breath. It wasn’t like he resented his job or anything. He mostly liked it. What he hated was the simple fact of the matter—Chuuya sneezed coarsely and roughly, his ribcage clattering from the force of it—he was sick. Extremely sick. So sick to the point where he felt delirious, his head spinning, and his brain clouded with foggy thoughts. He hated feeling ill.
Being weak. He hated needing people to look after him like some pathetic animal in need of protection and affection. Because sometimes, Chuuya didn’t know why, but he was just…so incredibly dependent on everyone around him. So weak and useless and feeble. He wasn’t worth anyone’s energy. Though he knew how independent he was, and how capable he was physically and mentally, he was just so confused. All the time. So yeah, Chuuya hated mornings. Especially mornings like this. Luckily, Chuuya wasn’t sick very often, so this was never a big issue. But today, he had a mission that was pretty much mandatory. And no way was he skipping it. No way, no way, no way.
As he got ready for the day, Chuuya thought, Why me? Why do I have to accompany him on his mission with that idiot Dazai? Why am I paired up with the most insufferable being on planet earth? He shook his head and sighed, and then he turned to gaze over at his window. It looked down on a bustling street below, with the bright orange sky and the sunny streets and bustling shops. The buildings looked quaint and comfortable from the height of his apartment building, and the air was pleasant. Despite the sunlight shining, Chuuya knew today was going to be terrible. What a deceitful array of light the sun was.
Chuuya didn’t even remember getting back into his bed. He also didn’t even remember when he had suddenly decided to take a nap, a (what was meant to be) brief one. He also didn’t recall the “small” nap turning into a three-hour slumber. A three-hour slumber that was only suddenly interrupted by the quant calls of his... Partner, Dazai, accompanied by a small nudge and annoyingly faint words of endearment. From what he could make out, he heard something about Dazai’s ‘dog being sick’. Chuuya wished that he had enough energy to throw a punch directly at his nose, but alas, he was dead set on napping for another couple of hours. He was somewhat exhausted.
“Chuu~ya, wake up! Doesn’t my dog know we have another mission today?” Dazai said with the usual cheeriness that always grated on Chuuya. This morning, however, the annoying voice was drowned out by the ringing in Chuuya’s ears.
Chuuya mumbled something vaguely akin to “go away,” before rolling over, ignoring Dazai entirely.
“Well, that’s no good…” Dazai mumbled in a hushed tone, before rolling Chuuya back over on his side.
Dazai had struggled to find Chuuya around the port mafia headquarters. As soon as he found out that he hadn't come into the office today, he began to worry. Chuuya had never been late to the port mafia. Around two hours later, when the set mission time was starting to roll around, Dazai kicked into overdrive and got extremely worried. How could that slug just leave him on a mission like this? Sure, it wasn’t the most significant thing in the world, but Chuuya would never push his work on somebody else. Something was seriously wrong. Dazai was sure of it.
Having spent the last hour looking around Yokohama, with mission time approaching to an unbearable extent, Dazai decided to check Chuuya’s apartment. At this point, if he wasn’t there, Dazai was considering sending the entire port mafia on a rescue mission to find Chuuya. He had expertly picked the lock on Chuuya's apartment door, leaving barely a trace. And now he was here. Honestly, Dazai was somewhat sure that Chuuya was ill. What a rare occurrence for a man with a god inside of him. It was a special occasion and needed the entirety of the day to be spent observing it. At least, that’s what Dazai told himself, calling into work sick for both him and his lazy slug mackerel chibi dog of a partner.
The boss hadn’t questioned him though, which was a relief, because Dazai wasn’t quite sure how he wanted his boss to react. As long as the Port Mafia remained silent and not actively involved, Dazai didn’t care. He didn’t need to ask permission anyway to call in sick. Especially not Chuuya, who could blow away the port mafia in a couple of minutes if he so wished. He could, yet here he was, sick in his apartment. He refused the damp and cold washcloth Dazai had placed on his forehead with a simple groan and shake of his head. Of course. Typical Chibi. He couldn’t say that he minded too much. Maybe this was what Chuuya needed—Chuuya needed this. Someone else to watch him, someone to help him, someone to give him the space he wanted without expecting anything in return. Dazai understood. And he didn’t need that chibi dog awake. He was perfectly fine.
Taking care of a mutt is more challenging than expected.
Chuuya constantly shook off the damp washcloth on his forehead, occasionally mumbling something close to “get the hell out of my house,” every three minutes. Of course, Chuuya didn’t appreciate Dazai’s expert nursing. Dazai had tried feeding Chuuya canned crab, (since he isn’t allowed to cook after the “incident”, (he almost burned down the kitchen) but Chuuya had choked on it the second it slipped into his mouth. Ungrateful slug. Luckily, Dazai hates wasting food so he ate the rest. Next, he tried checking his temperature. He didn’t have any sort of thermometer in his house (Dazai had searched around to find it, of course) so Dazai had to resort to the next best thing. He had heard about being able to tell someone’s temperature by pressing their lips on their forehead.
Of course, since this was logically his only option, he had scooted closer to Chuuya and lightly turned him closer to get a proper look at him.
He had his eyes closed completely, his chest rising and falling calmly with each shallow breath. Dazai smiled slightly at the sight. Even in such a condition, he could still manage to look sweet, he thought. He leaned closer and gently brushed his lips against Chuuya’s, pressing them onto Chuuya’s forehead. Hot. He was burning up, suffering from more than just a slight fever. Not good. He slowly pulled away, before feeling a warm hand on the collar of his shirt.
“Wait,” Chuuya said quietly, his breathing laboring.
Dazai immediately sat forward, leaning against the edge of the bed. His face held no signs of fear or discomfort. Instead, he held a look of concern and worry. “Are you alright, Chibi?"
“Yeah... Yeah, I’m okay... Just... Stay here…” Chuuya whispered, pulling closer to Dazai.
Dazai hesitated for a moment, unsure how exactly to respond to the situation. Was he supposed to stay? Did Chuuya want him to stay? It seemed that he did. “Sure, no problem… Just try to get some sleep, okay?” Dazai reassured, patting Chuuya’s hair as a form of comfort.
Chuuya nodded slightly, moving closer to Dazai. His breathing seemed normal again, which was surprising, given how much energy it had taken for Chuuya to even open his eyes. But Dazai couldn’t dwell on that for long. The slug needed some sort of remedy, so it looks like Dazai had no choice but to step into the bright world of culinary arts once again from which he was starkly pulled from.
He had looked up a healing recipe drink online, but it didn’t seem like it would be enough. Dazai added his spice and culinary expertise to a home remedy for Chuuya’s sickness. He brought the cup of mystery juice to Chuuya’s bed, smiling while bringing the remedy to his lips.
“BBBFBBFFFFFFTtttttthhh!!!”
Chuuya immediately sat up, as the room spun with such a flurry of power being activated, (and because Dazai had just gotten punched by a sleeping Chuuya). He activated his power, gravity manipulation. He threw his night desk at Dazai, and it immediately deactivated upon making contact with him. The liquid spilled onto the carpet, making a mess of Chuuya’s floor.
“WHA—WHAT WAS THAT?! What kind of bullshit shit did you just give me?!” Chuuya shouted, throwing a pillow toward Dazai.
“You’re sick, Chuuya,” Dazai answered simply, “I gave you a remedy! If you drank it, you’d be back to health in no time…” Dazai looked at the floor mournfully.
“More like I’d be in the hospital in no fucking time!” Chuuya threw another pillow. “First of all, get out of my apartment, second of all, you are not allowed to cook!! Remember the “incident”?!”
Dazai rolled his eyes, throwing the pillow back at Chuuya. “The fire wouldn’t have started if you didn’t set the oven so low,” He mumbled.
“YOU TRIED TO COOK THAT STRAY CAT!!” Chuuya shouted back. “I should have never given you mushrooms, damn you!"
Dazai stood up and threw the other pillow back at the slug. “Chuuya, you're still sick! You’re gonna exert all of your energy like this…”
Dazai had cleaned up the suspicious liquid on the floor while Chuuya complained about... Well, everything. Dazai also set the nightstand back at Chuuya’s bedside. Chuuya coughed more, his symptoms seemingly getting worse as time passed. He was beginning to sweat more than usual, as well, probably because of whatever concoction Dazai made. His fever had gotten significantly higher in the last hour, as well, which meant he could easily feel it burning up his body. The redhead had to fight hard to keep his eyes open, but he was tired anyway. Dazai got Chuuya water, along with strawberry snacks. They were incredibly difficult to find in Chuuya’s pantry, so he should be thankful!
..Thankful. Who was Dazai kidding? He was a terrible nurse. A bad doctor. An incompetent person. A total failure. He knew--he knew, that he shouldn’t waste time on this sort of thing. That he should just leave now. Leave as soon as possible. Chuuya would hate him if he stayed much longer. Chuuya always hated him. And that hurt. So much. I mean, he couldn’t even cook. Or drive, or do much of anything other than make things wrong. Then break and snap and implode and hurt. Why couldn’t anyone see it? How stupid could they be? How dare they expect someone like Dazai Osamu to be any sort of human? Why the fuck does everyone think Dazai Osamu could’ve ever lived like this? Fuck Chuuya. Fuck him for thinking Dazai could ever live at all.
"I think it's best if I go home," Dazai stated quietly when Chuuya suddenly flopped onto his pillow from exhaustion, exhaling soundly under the sheets.
Chuuya gave him a somewhat confused glare, and it had just occurred to Dazai that Chuuya was sweating. Like, a lot. The physical exertion of yelling at Dazai must have been too much for a sick Chuuya. At least that’s what Dazai thought. Chuuya gave a painful expression, laced with something Dazai couldn’t pick out. Chuuya’s eyes widened, a small gap forming at his mouth.
"No!" Chuuya suddenly shouted, "stay!!.. Please..?" He yelled softly, reaching out to grab Dazai's shirt tightly and burying his head into the crook between Dazai's neck and shoulder. Dazai sighed in relief when his grip loosened.
Of course, he wouldn't be leaving. There was nothing else he wanted to do less than leave. Dazai wrapped an arm carefully around Chuuya's waist and embraced him tightly. It felt weird hugging him. Dazai never hugged anyone like this. Never touched anyone with so much care. He slowly powered Chuuya back onto the bed frame and started to speak in a hushed tone.
“It’s already late. You need to rest, Chibi. Don’t push yourself too hard...” He spoke in a somewhat normal tone, but in reality, he had enough adrenaline to run five marathons and still be just as pumped.
What was he doing? Why was he still here, when he had promised himself to leave once Chuuya fell asleep? He had tried, he had, but god, it was difficult. Especially with Chuuya clinging to his side, and looking so cute and exhausted and vulnerable. He wanted to protect him, protect him and love him. To hold him and hold him tight until he was fine. He wanted him to be happy, safe, and healthy. Wanted him to be able to wake up next to him every morning.
What? No. Stop that right now. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander there. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Even though he knew that was the most illogical type of thoughts, he found it impossible to stop. He felt so conflicted. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Instead, he stayed close to Chuuya and watched over him. Chuuya’s gaze was unfocused, tired. He had never seen him like this. He looked like a shell of the former Chuuya, this time replaced with a sweating, heat-induced sick mess.
It was somewhat endearing. Chuuya had loosened his grip on his collar, and finally, fully laid down. Dazai kneeled beside his bedside and put his head down on his mattress, fully intent on just watching Chuuya until he fell asleep. And then, only then, would he try to force himself out of his apartment. The temptation of Chuuya’s smile, his warmth, his comfort, and his company. And Dazai just couldn’t. And that’s exactly why he felt compelled to stay, to watch Chuuya sleep. To look into those beautiful blue eyes and imagine them gazing at him, smiling. …Nope, not again.
—And again, he tried to leave. But the moment he was inching away from the bed, Chuuya reached out his hand, grabbing Dazai's wrist and pulling him closer. This nearly caused them both to fall flat onto the ground.
"Can—you stay... please," Chuuya whispered, his voice sounding weak. He wasn't in his right mind. No way.
Maybe Dazai was getting sick from the mackerel, too. He felt his face warm up, his mind going fuzzy and blurred. He felt Chuuya's grip tighten around his wrist. The brunette smiled lightly, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. Again, his heartbeat sped up to a concerning amount. He tried to slow it down, but even that wasn’t working. He would make Chuuya pay for getting him sick if it was the last thing he’d ever do.
And god, it might be. His ‘symptoms of Chibi-induced sickness’ just kept getting worse the more Chuuya stared at him. It was almost like Chuuya was injecting sickness into Dazai through his glare. Well, glare was an exasperated word. It was more of a longing stare. For what, exactly? Dazai had no idea. Not a clue. And now, Dazai couldn’t even think. Chuuya finally broke the stare, and rested his cheek against his pillow, closing his eyes.
“Dazai,” He muttered sleepily, “Can you come here and sleep next to me….for just a bit?” He asked, opening one eye to peek at the brunette-haired man, who was currently frozen in place next to him.
“I’ll leave tomorrow. I promise. I won’t bother you again,” Dazai whispered.
Chuuya shook his head, frowning slightly. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight?”
Dazai hesitated. What was he supposed to say? He just nodded quietly, before laying next to Chuuya. Chuuya immediately moved closer and wrapped an arm around Dazai’s torso. He leaned into his chest and let out a content sigh, burying his nose further into Dazai’s chest. He smelled nice. Like coffee grounds and fresh laundry. It was… relaxing. Annoyingly, his hands were somewhat shaking. Oh, this had to be bad for his heart. Dazai silently wished he was like this all the time, and not just during some fever dream-induced personality change.
Dazai wrapped his arms around Chuuya in return and buried his head in the redhead's hair. He felt like he could drown in how soft it was. His entire being melted at the feeling of warmth. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, inhaling all the sweetness surrounding him. It was confusing, really, but it felt right. Right and good. If he held Chuuya in his arms like this, he would eventually drift off into sleep, and hopefully, sleep peacefully. The last thoughts running through Dazai’s head were, 'Goodnight, Chuuya.'
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