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Dazai often disappeared for days at a time.
It was no surprise now that he had disappeared. He wasn't in the small office space they shared at Mori's building, and no one had seen him. This wasn't exactly rare - it would often happen after failed missions. One could only imagine what Mori had put him through. But he always came back smiling, however fake or forced.
This time just felt different. Dazai was his usual fake self, of course. He rarely ever faltered. But.. they hadn't failed a mission recently. There was no reason for that stupid genius to be missing, and yet he was.
Chuuya had a gut feeling that something was just wrong. And with Dazai, that could easily mean his annoying partner was drowning in a river somewhere. He wouldn't exactly say that he cares, but it would be better to have the man alive. At least, that's what he will convince himself is the reason that he's charging through the disgusting dumpsite that holds Dazai's container. Nothing else, just a wellness check.
There's a weak cough from inside. Chuuya knocks roughly.
"Dazai! Open the door!"
Chuuya's command is far more of a bark, a sound that resonates deep within hurting bones and in the putrid air of the trash piles.
There isn't a response. He grits his teeth, a sickening grinding in his jaw.
"I heard you! Open this fucking door!"
More weak coughs answered him, from the same distance in the back of the container. That fucker hadn't even moved. And that pissed Chuuya off.
The door slammed against the floor with a screech and a resounding echo. It crumpled pitifully in range of Chuuya's hands, gravity pulling at his stomach. Hunks of metal littered the floor, which he casually stepped over on his way inside.
Chuuya had only been here once before, a day when Dazai had tricked him into coming to grab documents from his container. It was "important to the current job", as Dazai had put it, when in reality all that the stupid kid was doing was littering Chuuya's apartment with pictures of dogs. The container had looked far more welcoming at that time, even being in a waste site. Chuuya would never want to live here, but during that time it was summer and at least the place was relatively clean. Now, though? It was the middle of winter and the container had no insulation. Everything was dirty, trash and bandages littered everywhere. And... those bandaged were bloodied. Fuck.
He finally finished looking around the "house", eyes settling on the bed. A Dazai-sized lump was twisted in a thin blanket. He was huddled as close to the metal wall as possible, shivering.
"Hey... Dazai?"
His voice was soft, most of the anger from before vanishing. Still, there was no response.
"Dazai?"
He was standing over the bed now. Reaching out a hand to touch Dazai's shoulder, he could feel the wracking shiver underneath. He gently peeled away the covers, turning Dazai over. The brunette was looking at him, but with such a soulless and gone expression. God.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
He pressed a hand to Dazai's forehead, the skin clammy and searing. The conditions here probably made him sick, if only-
"Leave." Dazai's eyes were out of focus, mouth frowning.
"Huh? No-"
"I said leave. I don't want you here."
"Dazai, you're not okay right now. I'll take car-"
"Leave! I don't need you! You're so fucking annoying!" He was lashing out now, arms flailing in Chuuya's direction and making weak impacts. God, he was so fucking annoying.
"I am not leaving you!" Chuuya's hand caught Dazai's wrist, earning a pained whine as the brunette tried to wrench his wrist away. Every movement seemed to cause him more pain. Chuuya squeezed, getting a biting "Stop!" from the teen underneath him. Oh. That explains why Dazai allowed himself to get sick. "...You have fresh cuts, don't you?"
Dazai was biting out his words, teeth gritting from the pain.
"You don't care! You shouldn't! Go! You're so useless!"
Chuuya's mind finally snapped.
"Shut the fuck up, Dazai!" He let go of the wrist in his grip, instead grabbing Dazai's face with both hands. "Your stupid fucking defense mechanisms don't work on me. I'm here, I knew something was wrong and I came to take care of you. Because you obviously fucking can't. Do you get it, now? Are you going to keep insulting me?"
Dazai shrugged pitifully, eyes still so dull and tired. Chuuya let go, shrugging off his coat and putting it over Dazai.
"I'm taking you to my apartment. This place is disgusting, and isn't helping you to get better." He looked at Dazai as if expecting him to refuse, but the younger teen seemed to have reverted to his own numbness. Of course, he can't manage to acknowledge help, especially from Chuuya. "Can you walk?" Dazai stared at him numbly for a few moments before shakily nodding.
Chuuya helped guide him out of the container. Dazai could indeed walk, but only by resting half of his entire weight on Chuuya's shoulder. The older teen was quite strong, he had to be to perform the moves that he did, but Dazai was (much to his irritation) much taller than him. The progress was slow, and the cold air seemed to be quickly worsening Dazai's condition.
After a particularly long stretch of time, they finally arrived at the exit to this beloathed trash dump. Chuuya made a mental note to help this pathetic lump actually find an apartment.
"I brought my motorcycle." Chuuya's voice was calm, and yet stern with the determination of getting this weak creature to his own apartment. "You're going to have to hold on as tight as possible, okay? It's not that long of a trip, but I'm sorry."
Dazai was struggling to stand, stumbling through every step and almost tripping. With the length of the pause he was given upon speaking, Chuuya thought that Dazai was either completely gone or just.. ignoring him. Either would probably make sense. Eventually, though, the brunette gave a struggled whimper and a nod. Allowing himself to be helped to the motorcycle, he clambered on the back and put all of his effort into holding onto Chuuya's body.
Actually, it was pretty difficult to drive with a 5'10 teenage boy clinging to your back and waist. Who knew? Dazai's hands held tight to the fabric underneath them, head buried in the back of Chuuya's jacket. The redheaded boy made another mental reminder to get this kid a bath, the hair touching him greasy and unwashed. There was no judgement, he knew that Dazai was too delirious and mentally shattered to clean himself. Quite soon, however, the streets grew more familiar, and Chuuya pulled into his own garage.
"Hey.. Dazai." The boy was clinging to his back, unwilling to leave the warmth he'd settled into. "I'm not going anywhere. But we do need to get inside."
He twisted slightly and pulled the limp body away from him, Dazai whining as the welcoming heat left him and stood up. Chuuya brushed greasy hair away from his eyes. Those usually sparkling brown eyes were completely dull, surrounding skin flushed and sweaty.
"God... you're a fucking mess this time." And he meant it. So, so dearly. Chuuya had always been one of the people to pull Dazai away from death. They were partners. Although he would always say he despised this dark presence in his life, he had grown since they first met 2 years ago. He'd gotten used to the jokes and teasing and actually started relying on Dazai's company after he lost the Flags. He couldn't imagine Dazai actually dying, and had always tried so hard to pull the younger teen away from that precipice. And yet it was still such a losing battle. Dazai sat here, feverish and delirious, just because he'd relapsed and didn't care to even leave his stupid fucking container. He'd allowed himself to get sick, and who knows how long this fever would have taken to actually end his life.
The thought made Chuuya sick. He needed to actually talk to Dazai after he came to. Or, perhaps, he would just yell obscenities and they would fight once again. That's how communication seemed to go between them. He had to set aside his anger for this moment, though. Dazai still needed him right now.
He struggled through his front door, Dazai now almost a complete dead weight against his shoulder. He guessed that the teen couldn't even manage to hold himself up now. Chuuya took him to the bathroom, allowing him to rest on the toilet while preparing everything needed to care for wounds and Dazai's... grossness.
He was all over the apartment. Collecting a washcloth and first aid kit, heating the thermostat, and grabbing cool water. He handed the water bottle to Dazai as he started wetting the washcloth with warm water. Dazai took a moment to actually start drinking, mind seemingly swimming with fever. It was quite a sight. Not many could say that they witnessed the "Demon Prodigy" unable to even form a cohesive thought.
Chuuya paused the running faucet, kneeling at Dazai's legs and meeting his eyes.
"I need to clean you and your wounds." Dazai started shaking, pulling away. Fuck. "I'm sorry, I'll put the bandages back on as soon as possible. But I need to get you clean. Is it okay?" Chuuya's voice was so unnaturally soft. This was a very tender subject - he'd seen small glimpses underneath the bandages while dressing wounds, but he'd never seen his partner completely without them. He just didn't know where the scars ended. It felt almost violating to see it now, when Dazai was so completely out of his own head. Chuuya would never hold what he saw over his partner - this was not their usual teasing. This was serious. "I promise I won't talk about them, now or after."
Dazai fell completely limp.
"Do... what you want."
Fuck, he'd given up. At least Chuuya could care for him right now, and hopefully coax him out of this state. This was heartbreaking, as little as Chuuya would like to admit that.
He lifted Dazai's sweater off with a broken "..okay.." as consent. Carefully unraveling the bloody and grimy bandages covering pale skin, he grimaced. Fiery red lines scattered down Dazai's wrists and forearms, covering nearly every inch of visible skin. It looked like Dazai had simply snapped. His skin looked like he'd given up all care for his own body, wishing for nothing but the lingering pain of his wounds. When Chuuya finally finished undoing and throwing away bandages, he almost felt close to tears. Dazai's skin was a battlefield of scars both self-inflicted and not, both new and old. Viewing this body was like observing a personal retelling of all of Dazai's battles, mental and physical alike. But Chuuya had agreed to not say anything, and so he swallowed back bile and started in on cleaning.
He wiped down all of the clear skin he could find with a warm washcloth. He couldn't exactly wash Dazai in this state, that would really be bordering on dubious consent, but he needed to clean some of the sweat and blood off. He took note of just how skinny and dehydrated the teen looked. He needed to make sure the both of them ate tomorrow morning.
Then he set to work on cleaning the wounds. There was many - the work was tedious and painful. Dazai scrunched his nose and hissed in pain every so often, his usual control over what he showed gone with the fever. Minutes passed in the quietness of Chuuya's apartment, thoughts blending in with the ticking of a clock somewhere in the hallway. As he finished cleaning, he set loose gauze over the stretches of cuts on Dazai's arms. And then, finally, set to work on rewrapping the expanse of bandages that always covered the younger teen's skin.
And then he was finished. He stood up, joints clicking from how long he was in the uncomfortable kneeling position.
"Are the bandages okay?"
Dazai's eyes were still unfocused, but he looked a little more calm now. The quietness seemed to be luring him to sleep. He looked down at his chest and arms.
"...mhm."
"Okay." Chuuya collected his first aid kit and moved a pile of clothes - a white sweater, gray sweatpants, fresh boxers and socks - to Dazai. "I'll be back in a minute, put these on."
It was quite unusual - Dazai almost never listened to anyone. But, in this moment, he was completely compliant with everything Chuuya was saying. He was moving to undress as Chuuya closed the door. He just seemed to be unable to actually think for himself. God, Chuuya hated what his partner did to himself.
After taking a moment to breathe, Chuuya made sure everything in his house was alright for Dazai to stay. He wanted to be able to keep an eye on Dazai (especially with the sly teen's way of disappearing). So, he set his bed up for the both of them and put a glass of water on the nightstand. He was rummaging around his medicine stock when he heard Dazai shuffling into his room.
"How are you feeling?" Chuuya asked, directing his partner to sit down on the bed. He felt the warm skin of Dazai's forehead with a tut of disapproval.
"Um...." Dazai's voice was scratchy and broken. Chuuya handed him the glass of water. He talked around the rim, "..tired. And like I'm going to regret you showing up."
"I'm not going to hold this over your head, dumbass. You're sick and weak and I'd be terrible to not take care of you."
"Chuuya is terrible."
"No I am not." He moved away, back to the medicine cabinet to finish finding what he was looking for. He made his way back to Dazai before the thirsty teen could entirely finish chugging the water, handing him cold medicine and a pain pill. "You really need to beat this fever."
Dazai quickly swallowed the pills and water, handing the cup groggily to Chuuya before flopping backwards onto the covers. Chuuya smiled as he went to refill the cup. Dazai needed to sleep tonight, eat and drink in the morning, and then maybe he'd be okay enough in the morning to talk. Or, they wouldn't talk. Dazai isn't usually this compliant or welcoming, this night was simply because he was so feverish he couldn't properly think. Who knows what tomorrow would bring.
Chuuya set the refilled glass back on the nightstand with a clink, eyes wandering over his own bed. Dazai was sprawled on top of the covers and across the entire king-sized bed. That's what his stupidly long limbs were best used for - taking up as much space as possible in beds that aren't even his.
He was smiling as he nudged Dazai up and underneath the covers, moving him so they both could fit on the bed. He continued to smile lazily as Dazai's body relaxed. He fell asleep just like that, soothed by the deep breaths from the man next to him.
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The soothing calm didn't last until morning.
Chuuya blinked blearily into the dark Saturday morning. It took him a few minutes of staring lazily at the wall to remember that Dazai was here last night - and not now. There was the telltale signs of ruffled bedsheets and an empty water glass, but the teen himself was gone. Chuuya sighed and rubbed harshly at his eyes. He moved out of bed, not bothering to make it, and stepped into the hallway. He was almost sure that the boy he'd spent all night soothing and doctoring and caring for had just up and left, but the quiet sound of running water greeted him as he made his way out of his room.
"Dazai? Are you okay?"
He'd knocked on the door, pressing an ear gently into the wood.
"Mm.. Yeah."
Chuuya lifted an eyebrow at nobody, unconvinced.
"I hope you know that if you kill yourself in my bathroom, I'll kill you."
"I'm not killing myself!.... This morning."
Dazai was at least somewhat coherent and in his own head, so Chuuya set to work on cooking breakfast for the both of them. He didn't have much for meals in his home. He did manage to scrounge together rice, vegetable mix, and eggs, so he started making fried rice.
He was midway through cooking the eggs when he heard the sounds of Dazai stepping into his kitchen. Freshly washed and bandaged, hair dripping, limping, but alive. Alive was a good look on Dazai.
"'m making fried rice. How do you like your eggs?"
"Chuuya... please don't mention this."
"What?"
"Me... you know. I don't know what I said last night, but I know you cared for me and... yeah."
He looked back at Dazai. The brunette boy was looking down, obviously scared.
"Dazai." He leaned on the counter, having turned off the stove for a moment. "I don't care what you act like with other people. You're the genius 'Demon Prodigy', whatever. You are not that to me. I've always been nothing more than annoyed by you, and now I'm caring for you because you were pathetically accidentally trying to die. This is what you are to me."
"I..." Dazai looked into Chuuya's eyes, expression changing to one of frustration when his feverish genius mind couldn't comprehend what he saw there. "I can't even tell what you mean right now."
"I'm saying that I have no reason to ruin your reputation. I don't care about it. But I do care about all the shit I'd hear if you died, because I'm apparently your fucking bodyguard. So. How do you like your eggs?"
"...Sunny side up."