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The first thing he notices is how dark Dazai’s apartment is; the blinds are all tightly shut, and there’s not a single light on. It’s also spotless. There’s not a single dish in the sink or blanket out of place. Chuuya’s aforementioned headache pounds against his temples.
He briskly walks to Dazai’s room—but he pauses when he doesn’t remember exactly which door it is. He clenches his fists, opting to call, “Kid?”
“In here!”
Chuuya follows the voice, taking a slow breath before opening the door. The room is only illuminated by the lamp on the bedside table. The kid—Nakajima, he thinks, is sitting on the floor picking at his nails nervously.
His eyes fall on Dazai, whom he scrutinizes.
Immediately, Chuuya can tell something is wrong.
Dazai’s eyes are almost shut, eyelids drooped low. From what Chuuya can see of his pupils, they are blown wide, and his eyes are unfocused. His breathing is slow and labored. Every inhale looks like a struggle.
He starts to scan the room instead, and it doesn't take long for his eyes to fall on an open pill bottle on the floor. Its cap is entirely missing and it’s bright orange, with a long unpronounceable name, and the description on the bottle reads “Take one pill as needed for insomnia.”
It is also empty.
Chuuya turns to Atsushi, his eyes frantic.
“Go get Yosano.”
Atsushi’s eyes snap up to meet Chuuya’s own, he looks confused.
“What?”
“Go get Yosano, now!”
Atsushi scrambles out the door, nearly tripping on the door frame in his haste.
Dazai makes his way towards the bed and grabs Dazai by the back of his shirt. Dazai is heavy and offers no resistance.
He’s entirely limp.
Chuuya shifts his hold on Dazai, instead gripping him under his thighs, and pulls him up, holding him. Dazai’s arms are over his shoulders, and his chest rests against Chuuya’s own. He can feel every shaky inhale. He prays they don't stop.
Chuuya carries Dazai into the hallway and starts to kick down doors. The wood splinters easily under his heel.
Finally, after three broken doors, he finds the bathroom. He drops Dazai to the ground, so rough that Dazai is definitely going to find bruises tomorrow, and kneels next to him. Chuuya holds his head over the toilet with one hand, fingers intertwined with greasy brown locks. He uses his teeth to pull his glove off his other hand.
He lets the glove drop to the floor, before shoving two fingers down Dazai’s throat. Dazai lurches, and Chuuya’s nose crinkles but other than that nothing. Chuuya can feel his heart stutter.
Chuuya tries again. And then a third time. And then finally, finally, Dazai gags and throws up, letting out a small whine after. It smells awful and it's not clean, partially spattering onto the bandages on Dazai’s wrist. It’s ugly and gross and the noise is disgusting.
Chuuya can finally take a full breath.
He makes Dazai do it again, and this time weak hands come up to paw at his chest, trying to push him away. But they are clumsy and uncoordinated. Easy to ignore.
When nothing is coming up anymore, he leans back and practically falls to the ground. He holds Dazai tightly to his chest if only to feel slow breaths that feel a bit more stable than before.
“Stupid shitty mackerel, causing problems for everybody. How dare you. That was disgusting. Scared the shit out of Nakajima too. That’ll be fun to fix, have fun with that. Inconveniencing the doctor, me, Nakajima, how many people do you plan to bother?”
There is no response. No witty banter, no dramatic offended gasp. Only breaths. Deep slow breaths.
“Bastard, asshole, how dare you.”
He’s mumbling into Dazai’s hair, he's not even sure if he can hear him. After what seems like way too long he hears the front door open. There are two sets of footsteps, both fast, one in heels. It’s probably Atsuhi and Yosano, but he can't help but call upon “for the tainted sorrow,” red creeping out around him and the air feels heavy. Dazai is held securely to his chest. Yosano is the first person to come through the doorframe, with Atsushi right on her heels.
Chuuya practically throws Dazai at her.
“Here’s you’re fuck’n moron.”
Yosano catches him and lays him down. Chuuya can feel his breath catch for the umpteenth time today when doesn't reach for the poison or the blades at her side. She just heals him, immediately.
The soft stuttering breaths Dazai was letting out settle into a far quicker and more consistent pace.
Yosano takes her hands off of her patient, eyes cold and clinical, but her hands are shaking. His eyes drift to Atsushi who is still standing in the doorframe, splinted wood snapping under shifting feet. Atsushi’s face is crumpled, eyes pinched, and tears dripping down round cheeks. Chuuya is hit with the reminder of just how young the kid is, younger than even Akutugawa.
Chuuya turns to Yosano.
“Get the kid out of here, I’ve got it.”
“Dazai is part of the Detective agency. Protocol dictates I bring him directly to the office headquarters and place him under watch in the nursing room.” Her voice is detached.
“You fuckers will just make it worse, you already left him missing for three days. Useless, all of you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get. Out.” This time it's more than a demand, it's a threat.
He watches her eyes flick between him, and Dazai who is still on the floor. Weighing her options. If it had been any other Agency member, they would have put up more of a struggle. But once upon a time, Yosano had been under Mori too, and she knows what it takes to rise in his ranks. Chuuya is more capable than even the rest of the Agency knows.
She grabs Atsushi’s wrist and starts to lead him out the door, Atsushi stumbling after on clumsy feet, eyes still glued to Dazai’s sleeping form.
“We will be back, along with other Agency members.”
“Fine.”
Chuuya and Dazai won't be here anyway. The second he hears the footfalls fade away, he's pulling out his burner phone.
“Chuuya Nakahara. M’ going to need a pickup. You will be discrete.” He steps outside to find the address printed on the side of the apartment building, before going back to stand outside the bathroom door, kicking pieces of wood out of his way. He runs his hand through his hair. God, he really hates Dazai. Leave it to Dazai to ruin his entire week of plans. Work is going to be hell.
It’s cutting it a bit too close to Chuuya’s taste, too high a risk of the agency showing up again, before he hears a familiar motor outside. The Port Mafia always uses the same kind of cars, so they are easy to identify.
He grabs Dazai and throws him over his shoulder, before making his way outside. The van is black, with sliding doors. The driver is sending him an odd look but averts his eyes when Chuuya turns his glare onto him, daring him to say something.
He throws the unconscious Dazai in the back, not bothering to put him in a seat, let alone buckle him in. He slams the door shut, and slides into the passenger seat.
“Drive.”
He takes the drive to sit back and breathe. By the time the driver pulls up to his penthouse, he feels in control again. He drags Dazai out of the back and throws him over his shoulder once again. He doesn't bother to say anything to his subordinate. He knows that the other knows that if anything about what happened gets out, it will be on his head.
The elevator takes way too long, and he just wants to go back to bed.
Once he makes it to his floor, he drops Dazai onto the other side of his bed, before laying on his own side. Best to keep Dazai close, so he knows when he will wake up. Who knows what trouble Dazai will get into if left unattended?
He tells himself that's the only reason Dazai is allowed to lay in his bed.
The sky is dark when he’s woken up by shuffling on his side. He turns over to make eye contact with one Dazai Osamu, who is trying to slide out of the bed. Upon making eye contact, Dazai flops back on the bed and rests his head in his arms, grinning like a cat that caught a canary.
“Chu! Well isn't this a surprise!” he croons.
“It’s so lovely to see you, unfortunately, I was just on my way out! Things to do, plans to make, work to do, I'm sure you understand!”
As he’s talking, he's inching back. Right up until Chuuya grabs him by his shirt and pulls him back onto the bed. Dazai’s smile falls from his face.
“I don't think so bastard, you can go die for all I care, but when your subordinate calls me at ass o'clock in the morning and makes it my problem, then I've got to babysit you. I'm not letting you go try again just yet. Let me have at least one night of uninterrupted sleep.”
Chuuya crawls on top of him, laying his head on Dazai’s chest. Like this, he can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. The perfect way to make sure he can't leave.
Chuuya falls asleep like that. He’ll be damned before he doesn't get at least one rest day before the rest of his shitty week.
The next morning, the sun is coming up through his window. He really should move his bed, so sunlight is not the first thing assaulting him in the morning. Dazai is still under him, sleeping.
He slips out of bed, careful not to wake Dazai. The longer he sleeps the shorter his reign of chaos around his house.
He makes his way to the kitchen and takes stock of what he has. After much deliberation, he decides on a seafood soup, something Dazai will both most likely eat and soft enough on his still likely tender stomach.
Dazai wanders into the kitchen while he’s scrolling on his phone, standing by the stove. The soup simmers behind him. Chuuya reaches out a hand and leads Dazai to one of the chairs at his table. Dazai follows with no resistance, but won't look at him. Still, Chuuya prefers the lack of resistance this morning to the one yesterday.
He ladles some of the soup into a bowl, before placing it in front of the man at his table. Dazai still won't make eye contact with him. He leaves to go get his own bowl, before sitting on the other side of the table. He watches for a moment, Dazai playing with the soup but not eating before he finally decides to say something.
“You better fucking eat that you bastard. I spent way too long in that kitchen.”
Dazai finally looks at him, he doesn't say anything but finally sticks the spoon in his mouth, Chuuya huffs. Good enough.
Eventually, Chuuya’s bowl is finished. Dazai has stopped eating as well, but his is only half-eaten. Trying to get Dazai to eat anymore is too much of a bother so he doesn't even try.
He grabs Dazai’s wrist, and leads him to his own bathroom, pushing his shoulder to sit him on the toilet lid. He digs around in his cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. He takes his time removing the dirty bandages on Dazai’s wrists. He runs a thumb over the scars underneath. It says a lot about how off his partner is that he doesn't take his hand back or try to make light of the situation. He wraps the clean bandages, pulling them uncomfortably tight just to annoy the bastard.
“If Chibi is going to take such good care of me, at least do it right.”
“You're lucky I’m bothering to help you at all. Besides, the only reason I am is because the Agency is incompetent.”
“Awwwww. Slug does care.”
“I do not!”
“Awwwwwww slug!”
“That’s it!”
Chuuya grabs Dazai and drags him out to the living room. He crowds Dazai onto the couch and smashes himself into Dazai’s space. For once, Dazai lets him.
“You better stick around. There are too many things I would need to take over if you died, and I’m busy enough.”
Chuuya reaches up and takes Dazai’s face in his hands. This last time came way too close. He brushes his brown bangs out of the way, and almost too gently, kisses the top of his forehead, right between his eyebrows. As he pulls back, he catches sight of the giant shit-eating grin on Dazai’s face.
“Chuuyaaaaa~”
Chuuya rears back and punches him as hard as he can.