Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He hadn’t been aware his guard was down until there was a bump in the road. Hadn’t been aware he had settled into a routine until Mori asked him to stay behind after their mission brief this morning.

Being very aware Mori was a threat never changed, it was innate that Dazai never was caught off guard when Mori pulled something.

Even today he wasn’t, Dazai would never expect Mori to go easy on him.

Being thrown off was completely different than being caught off guard. Being a hundred percent passed out in Chuuya’s bed without memory of being carried there was completely different. Waking up in a confused haze from a phone call was completely different.

Pushing him to lay back down, sleep sat heavy. Not only over his shoulders, but also over his words. Mori would know that he had been out like a light. Stupid Chuuya putting him in his stupid bed.

It has been almost a week since he got stitches, and there’s nothing that’s happened since then that would make him act like some dumb baby. So there's no real reason for Chuuya to put him in his bed other than that Chuuya is stupid. For the past two days, Dazai has been working nonstop, but his work has been nothing but filling out paperwork. They were for some important alliance that Dazai’s explained many times they didn’t need, but Mori insists.

Meaning he’s the one stuck working out the details.

Honestly, he probably fell asleep doing work on the couch, then ended up being carried to Chuuya’s bed.

Stupid Chuuya.

He’s glaring at Dazai right now, probably because his sleep was interrupted by Dazai’s panicked and jerky movements to sit up enough to reach his phone. He’s so glad Chuuya put it on the bedside table. He’d be dead if he didn’t answer this call. Any call, really, but not answering this call would have made both him and Chuuya late.

Up and out of bed, Dazai has to find all the strength in the world to listen to Mori while he tries putting his feet on the cold floor. Chuuya gives the smallest sigh at him, and closes his eyes like he’s upset about something.

The alarm clock barely says 4AM, he doesn’t blame Chuuya for being disturbed.

Dazai’s also disturbed, the next words after greetings are rescheduled and mission brief. Disjointedly heard by oblivious ears, but Dazai knows it’s about to be a long day.

That can only mean it’s rescheduled to now.

“A mission brief?”

“That’s right, Osamu, do I have to explain it again?”

“Should I bring my dog?” Dazai can feel Chuuya glare without looking, but he’s not stupid enough to let Mori know that they are in the same room after just waking up.

“Your next mission is a Soukoku mission, is it not?”

Like Dazai should have figured it out before. He did, but that’s not the point.

“I haven’t been to the mission brief yet, so no details—“

“Please be prompt, I’ll see you two in fifteen minutes.”

Not caught off guard. He looks at Chuuya, eyes wide, silently wondering what he should do. Not caught off guard, just thrown off.

Not a loop he couldn’t get back into. It’s easy to catch up.

It’s just Chuuya always seems to know what to do to make everything sinking in his stomach settle. For a second, his heart rate was as disrupted as his expectations. There was something going on, and he hasn’t thought far ahead enough to catch it.

Dazai didn’t make oversights. He recalculated, turned them into advantages.

Chuuya was already sitting up at the look on his face, getting work clothes out of the laundry basket neither of them bothered to put away anymore. Dazai mumbled something about fifteen minutes, but he was too abject to remember.

A simple mission, a simple meeting. Mori’s excuse for seeing them before sunrise was that Chuuya had an extra busy day, and that this meeting was urgent — it wasn’t. It could have been done the morning of their mission, Dazai had a plan the second he heard the target’s name.

Simple. The meeting took no more than ten minutes. All ten of those minutes at the expense of that sleep he had been having. That could have been a full beauty sleep if his phone had not rang.

Mori always knows. Always pulls stings with the precision of a doctor’s hand.

After that useless ten minutes, Dazai’s supposed to leave with Chuuya. Just like every other time.

He can’t take it. He wants to throw up when Chuuya leaves.

”That’ll be all, Chuuya. Sorry to wake you so early, but my schedule is also completely booked this week. I have no doubts you two could go in blind, but I was in the office early today. It seemed like an unnecessary risk.”

Lies. Mori never lifts a finger unless it’s to train Dazai or sign something Dazai put together for him.

”Thank you, Boss.”

”Off you go then, I have some more intel that will be useful for Dazai if he’d stay behind for now.”

Chuuya probably says something, but Dazai can’t hear. “Boss—“

It had been completely unnecessary for Mori to bring Chuuya into this if it was just a prelude to Dazai’s training for the day.

“Don’t you have a lesson to get to with Kouyou?” Mori asked. Dazai hasn’t picked up on any word games in the past few sentences, but he was stuck playing them back in his head instead of keeping up with the current conversation.

Mori always added something deeper to what he said.

Not able to find it, it’s more like he’s playing games with Dazai by not doing it. Throwing Dazai off purposely so he can—

Mori knows. He didn’t even let Chuuya get a word in. He knew what was going to happen already, had foreseen these events. Mori knew everything.

Throwing Dazai off so he can test Chuuya. There’s something that’s going on with their relationship, and Mori took notice.

Dazai is in so much trouble.

Should he leave Chuuya a note before he dies?

The door closing sounds even more damning than when Mori speaks.

”I’m sure you have more than enough information to succeed in this upcoming mission, no?”

“Yes, Boss. I already have a plan.”

“Then relax, Osamu. Before you skip off to work, I wanted to know — How’s playing house going?”

He wants Chuuya. He wants Chuuya here so bad.

”Please, you gave me a babysitter at best.” Saying that stung, caused his heart to jump up into his throat, but Mori would not know how true that has unfortunately become. So, he seamlessly continued his complaint, “Chibi’s impossible to live with. Is this just another way you intend to torture me? Force me to stay alive while subjecting me to that?”

”I was simply curious if you were remaining professional with Nakahara. If keeping you alive is punishment—“

“Ehh? You know it is.”

”Well, Osamu, your livelihood is a work matter. I can't have you leaving me, can I?”

”How could I? You don’t even give me poison anymore,” he whined, truly upset enough to cry.

Mori’s hand came to right his hair out of his face, hand brushing past the bandages to cup his cheek for a second. “I can't always keep up with you, that’s why I have you staying with Nakahara. I can't afford to lose you because I’m busy. I'm sure you understand that I’m very busy with this job.”

The same hand on his cheek was gone, and Chuuya was still gone. And it’s certain that Dazai wouldn’t see him until tonight. He’d much rather Chuuya’s hands over Mori’s.

Still, any physical contact sent him flying. Even if Mori’s left him feeling like he was going in for a crash landing, he still leaned into the hand when it had been on his cheek.

”I understand.”

Dazai did not, he’s the one that’s been keeping the Mafia going since he was fourteen. Setting it up for success so Mori did not run it to the ground. However, he does understand that he has to accept this if he wants Mori to keep him around.

”I knew you would,” he said warmly. Dazai wishes the hand would hold his face again.

Instead, his face is whipped to the side when the hand makes contact.

”I expect that you’ll keep personal matters out of work then. Your living situation cannot alter your work partnership in any way.”

Mori had slapped him.

Not hard at all, but it still sent a shock through him.

“I understand,” he repeated, still fucking flying.

”And I understand Nakahara grows to care too easily, but you’re a wonderful teacher. He needs to learn the values of having a steady professional relationship. Otherwise I can have a talk with Nakahara too.”

“I can handle it.” It shouldn’t be a problem.

”Good. Thank you, Osamu, I wasn’t lying when I said I am very busy, so I’m glad you could take this off my plate for me. This place is nothing like his time with the Sheep. I am in charge of honing Soukoku’s relationship, and I wouldn’t want you to ruin Nakahara by getting too close.”

”Understood.” His face noticeably stung too late for it to be from getting slapped. He hadn’t felt that at all.

“You’re not made for a family like that, after all.”

Mori’s right. Dazai has nothing to say to that.

There’s that chuckle Mori does when he knows he’s won.”I’m glad you understand. I do not want to have a repeat of this meeting. It will end very differently for you.”

”Yes, Boss.”

”You’re free to go. Unless you feel like you need a refresher on the rules you received when you moved in with Nakahara?”

Dazai hesitated. Those rules had very little to do with his relationship with Chuuya. They were more to make sure Dazai didn’t succeed in killing himself, and had no access to things that he could harm himself with.

“No, Boss. I remember.” Still, it's not a good idea to ask for clarification.

”Good. I’ll have to give you a checkup today to make sure. However, I have somewhere to be this morning.” Mori was dropping some manilla folder onto the desk between them. With the soundly thunk, Dazai knew exactly what it was. Dammit.

His stomach dropped more at that than at the idea of having to get a checkup.

”For the past few months, you’ve gotten into the habit of turning in your paperwork not only late, but blank.” Dazai couldn’t help but laugh. “As amusing as it is to you, I do need this done. I’ll be finished with what I need to attend to by noon. I expect you to come turn this in by then.”

Out the door as fast as he could with this paperwork weighing him down, he doesn’t need to wonder why Mori is getting suspicious of their relationship. Instead of taking heed to the rules, he’s ready to go promptly pass out on Chuuya’s couch. It’s the only place he can think of going right now.

Because, at the moment, he was in a war with the cleaning staff. Arranging his office in the most absurd scheme he can come up with. They always moved everything back. It’s not like Dazai's own office is much of a working space. So that’s why he’s using Chuuya’s office. Not because he is actually looking for Chuuya — keeping an eye out everytime he turns the corner for that familiar stature — but because it will be easy to spin it if Mori asks why.

Same with the stitches he had. Easy to spin. Later during the checkup, it will be so easy to tell Mori that Chuuya saw him get hurt on a mission, and insisted on stitches. Not far from the truth. Not much he could do about it when Mori appointed Chuuya to be his babysitter.

He needs to find a better word to mock with.

Considering Chuuya would know he’s teetering the edge of throwing a tantrum the second he saw him, Dazai really needed to get any thoughts like that out of his head. He’s not actively seeking out Chuuya because this isn’t important enough to interrupt Chuuya’s morning.

Exactly what he’s trying to avoid comes with Chuuya, so it’s wise to keep away and do his job. It’s not even that headspace he should be worried about. This amount of paperwork means he barely scrapes by in the near seven hours he has to finish it. It’s months worth of work that Mori was only assigning so Dazai wouldn’t be misbehaving (getting bored, and testing out a new suidice method) while no one was watching him.

What word could he use other than babysitter?

He’s sick of this already, and he hasn’t gotten inside Chuuya’s office yet. His hands are shaking too much to pick the lock properly. He’ll have to go and delete these security camera videos later, but he’s sure Mori knows what moves he’s making right now.

So it’s pointless. He’s already going to have a lesson on self-control next time he sees Mori.

Shaky hands on top of unfinished reports. Wonderful. Dazai’s going to have a wonderful day today.

There’s nothing he can do about it anymore except get into the office and be prompt. Which is really a pity because his only motivation to get here was that Chuuya’s office had a couch.

Not as perfect as the couch at the house, but it’s an extremely soft couch. It’s pushed into the corner, meant for those late nights where they couldn’t make it home.

Dazai’s stuck thinking about the little storage containers underneath the couch. Ever the prepared Chuuya kept pillows and blankets in them. The office wasn’t exactly safe because it was still in the Mafia building, but Dazai wouldn’t be able to slack off and go home. This was his best option.

Except.

“I thought you had training with Kouyou today?”

Except everything’s thrown off again because Chuuya’s at his desk.

“Well yeah, but not until later. I let her know I was here early, but she said something about this being a ridiculous time to start if I didn’t sleep. I had some work to do here, so...” he waved his hand towards the papers on his desk, not saying anything more. Chuuya was being weird.

Dazai only blinked at him. So he did get to spend a little time with Chuuya.

At work. He couldn’t do this at work. He can barely manage doing it at home. He should go to his own office.

”What’s all that?” Chuuya nodded to the tower of paper in his arms.

Staring dumbly at Chuuya, he couldn’t even think of a jab he could make in response. All he wanted to do was find a way to hide from this paperwork. Chuuya’s arms looked like a good place to do that, as spread out as they were. Basically open for a hug, one rested with a pen on the desk, and the other on the arm of the chair. Dazai’s sure he could weasel his way in between them. Sit on Chuuya’s lap and get a hug.

He’s at work. There’s no acceptable reason to want that. There probably wouldn’t be at home either.

”’Zai?”

After that talk with Mori, Dazai shouldn’t seek out Chuuya to squeeze him back together. Dazai’s been picking up the pieces long before he met Chuuya.

This is just paperwork. And it’s not like meeting later is hard.

”Come on, hand me that,” was the only warning he got before Chuuya was suddenly in front of him. Dazai hasn’t been paying much attention, hadn't heard or seen Chuuya get up. The folder is also out of his hand before he realizes it.

He only manages a little noise of disapproval, but Chuuya shushes him. After he discards it on his desk, he grabs Dazai’s hand. At the sudden warmth, Dazai jumps, but neither of them move to let go.

Confused, he lets Chuuya drag him around the small office. Of course, he thinks. Of course Chuuya is trying to take care of him right now.

As always, he’s far too perceptive. Dazai shouldn’t be confused, he should be trying to stop this.

On a normal day, he would. Easily. Everything about today is off.

He can't put together a course of action to do anything about it, so he’s pushed to sit on the couch before he can protest. His hand slips from Chuuya’s, and it makes it feel like his hollowed out insides expanded to where the empty air sits around his hand.

He squirms when Chuuya sits next to him, not sure if he should get closer so Chuuya can pull him into a hug and press everything back together, or get further away.

A hug is a reverie, but the fact that he’s still holding onto the idea so tightly means he needs whatever is to come in that meeting later. He’ll learn this time because it can’t continue like this anymore.

”I need to do my paperwork.”

”That can wait,” Dazai shook his head at him. “You’re—“

“It’s due at noon.”

”All of that?”

Dazai swallowed the disgusting taste in his mouth, then nodded.

”You can’t like… ask for an extension?”

”Did you drink too much wine?” Mori would kill him.

”Didn't think so,” Chuuya mumbled, eyebrows scrunching the way they did when he was thinking too hard about something.

”Best not exhaust that brain of yours. Run off and go get ready for training, so I can start.”

”You should take a minute”, he offered, like Dazai had time for such a thing. “You’re one wrong step away from dissociating.”

He hated when Chuuya used language like that. So flippant, and all too casual.

”I don't need a minute,” he bit out, already moving to stand up even though he’s not sure if he was steady enough to balance.

Chuuya’s firm hand around his bicep had him back on the couch before he could find out if his legs were shaking too much to stand. They feel like jelly. Like they’ve never been strong enough to support his weight.

Still, he doesn’t think he would have fallen. He’s never been allowed to before, just not something that could happen.

He doesn’t move, Chuuya doesn’t let go of his arm.

Not able to remember the last time he’s been angry, he sorts through this like it’s a deck of cards. Inconvenienced, yes, it’s probably one of the only emotions he could immediately pinpoint. Probably one of the only ones he had. He’s inconvenienced by anything that requires his effort.

Irritation was easy. Things like Chuuya always irritated him, bursting with so much of something he didn’t have — couldn’t pick out what it was, but he could feel it missing within him. Something bubbled through him at the reminder of what he was missing. Some feeling similar to how he was feeling now, but he wasn’t irritated at Chuuya right now.

But, wow, was Chuuya irritating. He could rant about it for hours. Maybe irritation was the strongest thing he felt, not inconvenience. Mori would tell him the inconvenience was laziness anyways.

No matter, Dazai wasn’t irritated now. Also not bothered, not so much, but sometimes. Because irritation went hand and hand with that. He thinks. He doesn’t really feel bothered by things enough to know. That would require caring. Usually he’s lazy, and can’t feel things that strongly anyways.

Frustration comes somewhere closer. He's been through so much training, and nothing seems to stick. There's always something wrong, something that he can never make work, and that’s what feeling frustrated is. He can never be good because his training doesn’t work.

But angry?

Something was there. He wasn’t sure it was actually anger, deep in his stomach. Very similar to when he wanted to self-destruct, to die, anything, shooting through him like his body was trying to destroy him from the inside if he couldn’t manage to do it himself.

Why can't Chuuya just leave him be? He needed to do his work.

He wanted to yank his arm from Chuuya's grasp. They had both become tense, silent, having some kind of standoff with each other. Meaning Chuuya wouldn’t relent, Dazai was staying on the couch.

As quickly as it was there, it was gone. Emotions weren’t really his thing. They only ever bothered him when that headspace was tormenting him. Now, all it was is that his tummy hurt. Like a placeholder for whatever feeling had been bubbling there, his tummy was unsettled now.

He clenched his fingers, trying to ease the tightening in his throat by feeling it in his hands instead. Constricting all the more, Chuuya’s grip tightened too.

Weirdly, it helped. As much as he wanted to get over this and do his work, it was nice to know that Chuuya wasn’t going to leave him like this.

All he could do was stutter through — suffer through — taking a breath. Take a minute, just like Chuuya said to.

A few more breaths and Chuuya’s hand moved to his back instead. The soothing circles he made seemed like they eased a normal breathing pattern back into his lungs.

”Why,” his voice came in a rough whisper, throat raw even though he hadn’t made a noise, “can’t you just leave this be?”

”I still have plenty of time before training. So I don’t see the problem.”

”It’s almost offensive. The one time you can get a basic conversation through your head, and you’re playing dumb.”

”You’re in my office.”

”Mine’s unusable,” he grumbled.

”No, it’s really not. You came here for a reason. And whatever the reason, I don’t see why I should leave it alone.”

”I knew I should have taught you ‘leave it’ better. It’s an important command for dogs to know.”

He felt Chuuya’s fingers twitch in irritation. Isn’t it funny how he can place Chuuyas feelings better than his own?

”You think you’re so clever. I can see exactly what you’re trying to do. Remember?”

Dazai’s stature shifted away from him and into some space that made him awkward. Wide eyes hidden by hanging hair, like he was going over every decision that got him here.

Good luck pushing him away now, bastard. Chuuya is all but shining with the victory, Dazai’s not the only one that can use others' words to his advantage.

Even if they hadn’t talked about this the other day, dog jokes were one of Dazai’s easiest tells. If they weren’t funny jokes— he was not admitting that Dazai was funny. He meant clever. Not funny. Dazai’s not funny.

Not at all.

…

If they weren’t clever jokes then Dazai was basically grasping at straws.

“All I said that day was that you have a temper.”

It took everything in Chuuya not to whack him upside the head. Dazai was leaving out that just admitting that had caused him to burst into tears for the next hour or so. But Dazai was pretty much a baby right now. He’s not going to hit him, that’s reserved for his idiot only when he’s older and being annoying.

Thinking about it, he’s not sure how young Dazai got when he was in little space. He’s always thought of it as Dazai being small, he doesn’t think his partner has ever dropped fully into headspace to know how young that would be.

Chuuya’s always associated him being small with him being a baby. He already acts like he’s young. Chuuya has no doubt that if Dazai can get to the point of positive regression, that he’ll be very young. A baby, he sums up warmly. He hopes Dazai can have that.

Work was not the place to try anything.

Chuuya doesn’t even know how to respond to Dazai’s poor attempts at teasing him because all he can’t think is he’s just a baby. So, he laughs. It’s a small puff of air, eyes scrunching, head dropping because he knows he shouldn’t be laughing right now.

He couldn’t help it. He’s not sure what it is about Dazai, but all he can think right now is that he’s so cute.

Dazai tries again, with some retort or another after that, but Chuuya doesn’t even register it. Standing up, he ruffles Dazai’s hair. After ignoring the indignant shout that gets, he smacks Dazai’s legs out of the way so he can pull a bin out from under the couch.

”Just take five minutes, ‘Zai,” he’s talking as he unfolds the blanket he keeps here for late nights that they have to crash here. “I promise five extra minutes of doing that work won’t matter.”

”It will,” he insists, but Chuuya’s standing up now, blocking him from getting up off the couch.

”It won’t,” he assures, dropping the blanket on his lap. “If you take those five minutes and calm down a bit, I promise you’ll work so much better.”

Dazai’s already got the blanket fisted in his hands. Chuuya bought it for him very soon after he joined the Mafia, Dazai had latched onto him very quickly. Meaning Dazai spent every waking second he wasn’t working in Chuuya’s office. So all the time. He was in Chuuya’s office all the time.

They started working together more often, stayed long after hours, and eventually started sleeping here when they were too tired to make it to their homes. After Chuuya bought the couch, the blankets and pillows were a no-brainer.

Did Dazai’s have little cartoon mackerels all over it? Possibly. Did Chuuya say anything when the plain blanket he bought for himself got replaced by one with disgustingly bright yellow slugs? Well, yes. He had threatened to strangle Dazai with the blanket, but the other had only laughed at him. Chuuya still kept it, folded neatly and tucked away in the storage bin for whenever they didn’t feel like making the trip back home.

”Chuuya better be right,” Dazai mumbled, fingers fidgeting with the end of the blanket. Chuuya gets it, that folder was bursting with papers. He had a long day ahead of him, and only a few hours to finish it.

Pulling him close to kiss the top of his head was the kicker. He’s not sure if Dazai is convinced a break was a good idea, but after pulling him close, Dazai’s arms wrapped around his waist so he couldn’t go anywhere.

”You didn’t even take off your shoes when you got here,” Chuuya pointed out, pulling back even if Dazai whined about it. “I’ll take your coat too.”

Dazai made a big deal about taking his shoes off while Chuuya tugged at his coat. It was easy to get off since he only had it draped over his shoulders.

Replacing it with the blanket in his lap caused Dazai to make some more indistinct whining noises Chuuya easily ignored. Taking Dazai’s shoes with him to put by his own, he went to hang that damned coat on the back of the door.

”More comfortable?”

Not answering, Dazai grumbled, and crossed his arms while flopping against the back of the couch.

Then, his eyes closed. He wasn’t stupid enough to do something like try to take a nap, but after the five minutes had passed he felt like he was back in his head. His chest and throat were finally allowing him a full breath, too.

It hadn’t helped per se to have Chuuya sitting next to him. However, it was always a congenial presence to have with him. He had copied the others breathing while they sat, and that was it. That was the furthest extent Chuuya was welcomed to help because Dazai had already been warned today.

Chuuya keeps his voice low, speaking some iteration of Dazai’s name. Then, their hands are slipping together again. He nods, he’s not listening to Chuuya right now. He’s probably saying something stupid, but Dazai still nods.

Before he knows it, Chuuya is pulling him to stand. Dazai follows him to his desk, and sits down in the chair before he’s asked to. Looks like five minutes is up.

The blanket on his shoulders being fussed over by Chuuya is what makes him tune into what’s going on around him. When he registered the time crunch he was still in over this paperwork, the only thing that stopped his heart from beating up his throat was Chuuya talking. He’s always talking.

“Is this folder organized?”

Dazai only managed a nod. Talking always seemed to escape him when it was only Chuuya.

“How? By date?”

Another nod was all Chuuya needed before he was flipping through the papers, trying his best to remember all their Soukoku missions from the past… how many months did this work go back?

There were a lot of useless solo missions Dazai went on for Mori. With a sigh, he put aside their joint missions, and put the folder of solo missions in front of Dazai.

“Try for both piles, but if you haven’t finished the first one by ten-thirty, call me.”

“Mm,” Dazai stopped listening again, but he was opening the folder, pen in his hand. He knew what was expected of him at work. While Chuuya is a gracious person, he’s been all too patient with Dazai coming in and acting like this.

He could follow these rules. It’s a little upsetting that Chuuya forced him to waste five minutes, only to give him an even sooner deadline, but it’s okay. If they’re Chuuya’s rules he can follow them.

Ten-thirty. He wonders what kind of punishment for not finishing Chuuya could think up that would last until his meeting at noon.

“Let me see your phone.”

Dazai pointed to the coat on the hook, but Chuuya shook his head. “The other one.”

Dazai looked guilty for a second, and Chuuya did everything in his power not to reach out and start soothing that look off his face. He just waited patiently for Dazai to wiggle around to get his personal phone out of his pants pocket.

“I’m going to set you an alarm for ten-thirty,” he explained because there was something Dazai was thinking that didn’t line up with what was happening. It was that damn look on his face. “Call me when it goes off, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll tell Kouyou I have somewhere to be if you’re not done by then.”

Eyes closed in some kind of bitter acceptance, Dazai just nodded.

“I’ll help you finish before noon if needed, okay?”

Dazai paused for a long while. He felt like he was playing a game of catch up here. Chuuya never willingly helped with work that Dazai wouldn’t do.

“I won’t be in trouble?”

At that, Chuuya had a whole speech ready, but he could only reach over to ruffle Dazai’s hair. “No, you won’t be. Never with me, okay, Sweetheart?”

Dazai shifted in his seat, looking like he wanted to say something, but Chuuya’s get your ass to training, before you suffer the wrath of Ane-san alarm went off.

“Chuuya should go.”

“You’d better call me,” he tossed the phone to him, and was out the door before Dazai even caught the thing.

Dazai stared at the door long after Chuuya left. Stared even as thumbed through the folder in front of him. They were now arranged so the solo missions were all he had to worry about doing, their joint missions were set aside to be done second.

Dazai stared and stared, like that would answer all the questions he had. Even as he turned out paper after paper, he was still preoccupied picking apart whatever just happened.

Chuuya would always be a mystery to him.

Ten-thirty came and went. With a distasteful sigh, he dismissed the alarm Chuuya, extremely annoyingly, named Don’t forget to actually call :/ then got right back to his work. He had plenty of time. Halfway through this stack.

Nevermind the other stack. He has made good progress. Maybe not enough, but he’s already accepted his punishment for not doing the paperwork on time.

His phone rang four times. Each time he declined it, the new call came not a second later. When a fifth didn’t come, he got suspicious. Instead of getting up to lock the door, he stayed at Chuuya’s desk with his finger hovering over where the button to decline the call would pop up. He didn’t have all the confidence in the world in his ability to stand.

His tummy ache came back when Chuuya left. And his hands never did stop shaking.

After a minute, he assumed Chuuya gave up on trying to call him and went back to training. Pen in hand, he took to his work. He’d have to go at a faster pace if he wanted to get a decent amount done on time.

After another minute, the office door slammed open.

Entire body reeling back so he could get a good breath in, he glared at the ceiling. Then he let himself deflate into a sigh. Chuuya could be so annoying sometimes.

”Dazai,” he sounded like he was trying not to growl that out. Like he was being extra gentle right now. Oh, hell no. Dazai’s not fragile. “Why couldn’t you just answer the phone?”

”Please, like I wanted to hear your voice,” he gagged.

”I told you to check in at ten-thirty. You could have texted.” Then, Chuuya’s eyes are widening while he scrabbles to pull out his phone. Whoever Chuuya was texting, Dazai heard their reply come through instantly. Whatever, Dazai didn’t like the desperate type.

“Like I could have pressed anything on the screen with all your incessant calls popping up?”

“Ane-san thinks your trying to kill yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because I told her you were supposed to call at ten-thirty,” Chuuya had this look on his face that Dazai really didn’t like, “and you weren’t picking up.”

He couldn’t figure out why Chuuya was looking at him like that. He looked angry and the complete opposite of angry at the same time.

“I wasn’t even gonna,” he grumbled. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it. It would take a lot off of Chuuya’s plate for today. First he’s late to his training because of him, and now he’s ditching it. Dazai is going to be punished if he finishes the paperwork or not. There’s no point, Chuuya was just stubborn.

Plus, if he could find a painless way to die, it would get him out of whatever Mori had planned. Let Chuuya think it was just a scolding for not finishing the paperwork, that would be for the best, and Dazai can slowly distance himself back to being a pest in the house. It would work out. The suicidal thoughts were only passive today. He had this under control.

”How the hell was I supposed to know that if you didn’t call or pick up after you promised to?”

”I didn’t promise.”

”Dazai,” Chuuya warned. Now he sounded angry.

Dazai should be happy about that. He has an in, he can get Chuuya to leave. His tummy ache shouldn't be making itself known again, making him want to shrink in on himself all because of an angry Chuuya.

He had said he wouldn’t be in trouble.

”Sorry,” he barely opened his mouth to say it because he knew saying that would expose him, but he couldn’t help it. “But you should go back to training. You see, I'm fine.”

The look Chuuya got on his face was one that Dazai could easily define this time. There was a shift in his eyes and with it, a stubborn streak across his cheeks. Chuuya was set in whatever he was thinking about doing. Dazai lost his in already, and most likely Chuuya wasn’t going to go back to training.

”And what about your work?” Chuuya asked, shoving him out of the way so he could look at the stack of papers in front of Dazai. The stupid wheels on the chair did not let him hold his ground.

”It’ll be done.”

When Chuuya looked over at him, he knew he was in for it. “You’re joking.”

”Why would I?”

He’s never seen Chuuya look so stressed in his life.

Before Dazai can snatch both stacks up, Chuuya beats him to it. Chuuya took the unstarted stack, their joint missions. He had seen through Chuuya’s plans from the beginning, but hadn’t had the foresight to do the wrong stack first to ruin those plans.

He hadn’t expected Chuuya to ditch training with Kouyou in the first place. Not for him, not for something so prosaic. But there he is, using his Ability to pull the pens Dazai had tried to hide from him when he was grabbing the other desk chair pushed away in the corner of the office.

He needs Chuuya to go away. He already ruined Chuuya’s day by starting it at some ridiculous time before dawn. Now he’s making him ditch his training session. There’s so much more. So much more Dazai can’t even think about because he’s going to be a baby at work.

That’s really all he is. He’s being a baby. He needs to grow up, it’s just paperwork.

At work, he reminds himself. He’s at work. He can’t act like this. Maybe it could be okay because he was in Chuuya’s office. It’s safe enough here. Not really, but Chuuya’s here at least. The other always had a way of pulling him together.

Dazai is in so much trouble. Over what exactly, he has no idea anymore. It’s looming over him, sitting right over his shoulders. He can’t feel himself breathing anymore.

Before he can have any reaction to that, there’s something touching his arm. He makes some horrible noise as he’s sucking in a breath. He’ll call it a gasp.

Thankfully, he doesn't fall out of his chair when he jerks away. Chuuya comes into view when he turns to look, eyes wide before he can remember to school his expression.

”Hey,” Chuuya’s voice is solid, catching his attention before he can fall any deeper. “Do you need five minutes?”

Does he?

It was like a reset earlier. He can’t do it this time. There’s a deadline that’s extremely close, and he’s got to see Mori after this. He can’t have anything reminiscent of acting like a baby in front of Mori, and he will if he takes those five minutes. He’s already feeling small, if he gets any more reprieve than Chuuya’s given him, he’s done for.

“With both of us working, you’ll have plenty of time,” Chuuya continues when he probably takes too long to answer. When he doesn’t say no fast enough.

”Chuuya,” he says, irrational in his tone. He just needs everything to stop.

Chuuya fingers are slipping between his own, prying his nails off of his arm. He hadn’t even realized he was doing that, but he feels the crescents stinging on his skin once he’s fully holding hands with Chuuya. He doesn't think they hurt. They don’t feel like anything.

”Sweetheart, you gotta be gentle with yourself. I know it’s hard right now, but we are going to get this work done. It’ll all be okay.”

With how busy Dazai is going to be for the next few hours, Chuuya didn’t think Dazai regressing at work would be a good idea. He’s trying not to be too soft and make Dazai drop, but once Dazai starts to slip, he’s gone. Chuuya’s aware of the problem Dazai has with feeling “stuck” between headspaces, but the little side of him easily took over.

Chuuya’s best guess is him being “stuck” is that war he’s been having with himself on whether he deserves to be little getting in the way of everything. Maybe it’s better for it to get in the way for today, at least until they have a better way of dealing with this headspace.

It’s best that Dazai isn’t small while at work, but Chuuya can’t see a scared baby and not do anything about it. He’s already got Dazai’s hands in his, it’s easy to pull him around the corner of the desk so their chairs are next to each other’s. The wheels on the chair betray him when he tries to get away.

When Dazai leans forward, basically folding himself in half on the chair like that will hide him, Chuuya grip loosens. He soothes over the nail marks Dazai left before fixing the bandages. It’s a lot easier when Dazai sits up for that, but he’s staring at Chuuya like he’s looking for something.

Dazai looks just as conflicted once Chuuya secured and tucked away the safety pin on his bandages, but he doesn’t comment on it.

There’s little pouty noises every now and then, but once Chuuya laced their fingers together, Dazai didn’t try to go back to his work. Taking five minutes was good, Dazai had been working for hours, and so had Chuuya. He had let Kouyou know in advance that he would probably have to leave early today, and she doubled down to make the most of their time. As if about six hours wasn’t enough.

Not that he’s complaining. He’d rather not be sliced to pieces by Golden Demon.

He’s bruised and beaten enough as is. Exhausted enough too. Dazai not putting up a fight is a blessing.

He’s not sure if it’s actually five minutes that they sit there, holding hands. Chuuya can feel how much Dazai’s are shaking. Chuuya’s, again, not going to comment on it while at work and start a whole new issue.

His own hands are shaking too. It’s not that he can’t handle the pain, but fatigued limbs from hours of training don’t feel good wrapped in tight bandages. He’s not Dazai, they’re not peeking out from under his clothes like some sort of fashion statement. He just took a few hits that were harder than normal, and they needed to be wrapped.

Kouyou said it was good for his stamina and tolerance to train with injuries, so right now he felt well and truly worn out.

In a pipedream of his, he hopes Dazai can go down smoothly when they finally get home. However he can’t find himself minding Dazai’s struggles too much, this isn’t easy for Dazai either. Going home and relaxing sounds nice right now, like a load off his shoulders. And the idea of having Dazai there with him, snug against him on the couch after being thoroughly taken care of, makes him look forward to it.

That was to be attained later. At least Dazai seemed more at ease now. Not as much as Chuuya wanted him to be later, but enough. Hopefully enough to finish this work without reaching his limit.

Squeezing Dazai’s hand to let him know time is up, he sighs and goes to pick up the pen that fell to the floor. Of course, Dazai whines at his attempt to break contact and holds on tighter.

”Sweetheart,” he says. There’s only one way to make Dazai snap himself out of his headspace.

Unfortunately, it’s to embarrass him, and Dazai’s cheeks blossom into red very quickly just at the nickname.

“It’s time to let go and do work, you can be little at home.”

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to go too far with that because for being shameless, Dazai’s easy to become shy and embarrassed.

Going to pick up the pen himself, Dazai drops their hands.

Chuuya sighs at the loss while Dazai grumbles something about not being ”like that” right now. There’s so much distaste in the way he gets up to put his chair back to the spot with all his paperwork.

He’s blaming it on being tired, but Chuuya almost laughs at him acting so grumpy.

He considers taking the blanket to fold and put away because Dazai doesn’t need anything encouraging him to drop right now. Any vulnerability needs to be stamped out before he even thinks about leaving this office.

Chuuya’s not stupid, he knows this life as well as Dazai does. But the idea of a comfort item comes to mind again. Sure, it’s not The Green Blanket, but he’s not going to leave Dazai feeling stranded. Something to replace that coat over his shoulders is okay for now, will hopefully help keep him grounded in his head too.

Dazai’s already hard at work. The blanket’s not hurting anyone, so Chuuya grabs his own pen and starts writing as fast as he can.

Chapter Text

Thing is, Chuuya’s handwriting is absolute trash.

It’s a lot better than a few years ago, Dazai will give him that. However, when you hold a pen for the first time at fifteen years old, any hope for your penmanship is lost.

Kouyou used to make him write lines and copy dictionaries until his hand cramped and his fingers spasmed. Chuuya said she would threaten to break his fingers when his signature was anything but perfect. It never happened, no matter how blocky and chunky the shaky characters were written. At the time Chuuya had really stressed about it.

Dazai had taken to practicing with him separately from Kouyou’s teaching. He wouldn’t want Mori to be the one teaching him if he never learned before, the idea made his skin crawl. Chuuya, someone who couldn’t stand being viewed as stupid, really took it to heart that it was his beloved Ane-san who had to watch him struggle like that.

So, Dazai sat through endless hours of spelling tests with him. So many flash cards. Even listened to Chuuya read books almost every evening after work. That was before they lived together, but Dazai liked to intrude. When he bought Chuuya a children’s picture book about a red dog, and made fun of not only his hair, but also his height in comparison to the dog, he had been smacked with the book. Chuuya, stupidly, had torn it to shreds after that. Which only entailed more dog jokes, and—

Snapping him out of the past, the guards at Mori’s door bowed their heads to him. Waiting for whatever command he would give them was a pretense. The only order they would follow would be to open the door for him.These were the same guards that would chase him and drag him back to Mori’s office when he was fourteen.

”The Boss is expecting me,” he told them, and glared while they opened the door for him. However, he paid them no mind as he walked through. They knew not to question him.

He would much rather continue reminiscing about when they were fifteen. Everything felt so much easier then. Chuuya wasn’t so… bright towards him. They fought, they hit, they kicked, and everything behind their words hurt so much more than bruises ever could. Dazai had been thriving.

At the time, he was still allowed to live in his shipping container too. It hadn’t been until recently that his living alone privileges had been taken away.

”It’s always a lovely surprise to see you here on time.”

Dazai’s training hadn’t been failing him either, so he can see where Mori is coming from in doing all this. Changing everything up had probably been part of some test, but Dazai’s so far gone that he can’t think long term anymore. It could have been happening since he moved in with Chuuya, maybe even before that.

Every move Mori makes is strategic, so carefully planned. Dazai should have been running through possibilities, but instead he grew too comfortable in life.

”Only because I’m ready to go home — Ah, so heavy, you take this,” he mumbled as he shoved the fat manilla folder into Mori’s hands. “You’re making me do too much work. I should get time off after this,” he complained, even if his heart wasn’t in it.

Mori glanced from the pile to smiled at him, amused.

He sounded anything but when he spoke. ”How are you so tired when Nakahara’s handwriting is all over your work?”

Chuuya’s handwriting is absolute trash — right. That's where he had been going with that.

Really, Dazai had gotten too comfortable in life. Instead of going over his plan to spin this to Mori, he had been distracted. Thinking about Chuuya no less. Stupid Chuuya. As if Chuuya was important enough to take up his thoughts like that. Dazai repressed the urge to gag, it was disgusting even thinking that as a possibility. He only thought about Chuuya so much because he was so annoying.

”All you said was to—”

“Did we not just have a talk about boundaries and rules?”

“Yes.”

“And remember when I asked if you understood?”

Dazai really, truly, did not understand. It’s like whatever option he chose would be wrong either way. He’s never looking at it from the right angle.

“I did.”

“Then why do I have to ask you again? Why is Nakahara’s handwriting on your paperwork?”

Dazai used every drop of his willpower not to shrink into himself.

Well, he would be punished either way. Mori would find a way to spin it back on him, spin him round and round in circles until he was so dizzy he couldn’t see straight. The only thing that mattered now was handling this correctly so he wouldn’t get too dizzy.

“You wanted me to remind him that we are strictly work partners,” Dazai said, keeping his tone firm, but only in his belief that the actions he was about to make up were the right ones. If he did not sound flippant and casal enough then Mori would hear the lie immediately. He had to be the Dazai that Mori expected.

“Yes, Osamu, but I also wanted you to do your own paperwork.”

“Chuuya is under my jurisdiction. He only did paperwork for missions we shared, it makes sense that he should help me with those. He’s my partner, and I’m an executive. He knows things have to change now.”

Mori stared, waiting for an explanation. Dazai stared right back, “That should suffice, no? I did exactly as you asked, and finished my paperwork while I was at it.”

He lied. He just lied to Mori.

“I see,” Mori nodded dangerously, “You always have a plan, don’t you?”

He’s done it a billion times now, and, of course, has been successful more often than not. He’s probably told more lies than truths in his life. Usually, when it was to Mori, it was for amusement rather than necessity.

”You speak like this was a hard conclusion for me to come to. Chuuya is who you force me to work with because you see potential that I do not. I was only appeasing Chuuya because I didn’t have anything better to do instead, and he’s just so loud all the time. But why should I stand in the way if I don’t have a better plan?”

He’s not sure what to do now. Any normal person would hold close the relationship they just risked their neck for, but this isn’t a normal life. All Dazai can think of is how he’s going to turn that lie into a reality. If the lie doesn’t become a truth, then it’s trouble.

Also, he doesn’t want to hold Chuuya close. Or tightly. Or at all. He can’t believe he risked his neck for Chuuya.

“Well, your paperwork is out of the way. Time for your check up, and then I’ll let you two go home early if Nakahara is done with his work for the day.”

As quickly as Mori became all cheery and flowery in his words, Dazai expected to see that Elise had popped up behind him. There was nothing else that could make him that happy. It didn’t quite hit him that he would be getting a check up, it had slipped his mind all day.

It’s almost dumb now, to say that he was thrown off again.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry too hard about his next step. He knows exactly what Mori is going to find, and he’s already lied to Mori once today. One of the billion excuses he’s running through will be able to cover them up.

Mori took his bandages. It had hurt more than he expected it to, because Mori found and punished him for every single new mark he had on his body.

Even the fading nail marks from this morning, nothing but a row of four red dots by then. Nevertheless, Mori had incised that onto Dazai’s list of failures. Right next to where those stitches had been, now left open and exposed to show off his mistakes. Now, new reminders bled.

There had been old scratches all up his arms too, and bruises on his legs that Mori could tell were from hitting himself without having to ask. Aside from a few really bad days early on, that had been the worst of his self harm since moving in with Chuuya. If the goal was to torture him, Mori made the right call making them live together. Even before Chuuya got super involved with Dazai’s activities after work, he did do a good job watching Dazai.

Dazai’s not sure exactly how many months he’s been living in Chuuya’s house, but he thought he was getting better. A fact that when pointed out to Mori only resulted in his body being put on display with an intense questioning about what he thought looked better about it. So, maybe not the progress Dazai thought, but Chuuya would say it still counted for something.

Maybe, Chuuya was wrong.

Chuuya was definitely wrong about him needing stitches a few days ago on that mission. Mori had turned those into the first point on the list. The ultimate reminder that there will be no more of that. Mori reminded him his body was strong enough to not need those.

He remembers uttering something like, ”What did you expect?” before Mori tore the stitches. “How could you assign me a babysitter and not expect him to coddle me at the first sight of blood. I tried to let the wound sit, but Chuuya saw it happen when we were on that mission.”

Dazai does not remember exactly what he had said, just that he had laced some lies in there to placate Mori’s anger. It did not work, Mori stuck with his goal to make sure Dazai understood.

There was no way to talk himself out of that.

Dazai really understood now. He really, really understood. He would not complain again. He should just not have made the error in the first place.

He had really needed this.

Sorting through his memory, Dazai swears this checkup was to make sure Chuuya was keeping up with his job, but there was no mention of Chuuya after the paperwork fiasco.

Dazai doesn’t get it. It feels like there have been chunks taken out of his memory, he’s straining to remember the specifics of their conversations earlier.

It doesn’t matter, he feels giddy now that his training is starting to be reinstilled. He’s stuck in those moments where he doesn’t have to think. Oh, the abatement of it. Mori’s expectations of him were always so clear cut, right into his side, it was nice to be in that loop again.

It didn’t last long, Dazai couldn’t last long without thinking. Not when it’s the only thing he’s got going for himself.

The knock splits his head right open, the headache threatening him all day thumping into his temples, and pounding down the back of his neck, of all places. The knocking is loud enough that he wants to press both hands to the side of his head and squeeze until the solid pressure was gone, or his head pops.

Of course, the knocking hadn’t been that loud, but Dazai felt it to his core.

Stationed outside, those guards willingly ignore anything they hear. They have been unforgiving as long as Dazai could remember, indifferent. No one could be a guard stationed directly outside Mori’s door this long if they didn’t know how to say, “Not my business,” every time they heard something unsightly going on behind these doors. Probably, maybe unsightly — they didn’t know, it was none of their business.

They were there to be impassive.

Nakahara is looking for Dazai. That’s what the guards told Mori, delivered by a bored and cold voice, after knocking and interrupting them. Interrupting them as if Dazai wasn’t bleeding all over the place. He pulls a hand to his side in panic, trying to cover himself even though he knows they aren’t dumb enough to open the door. Mori smacks his hand for his effort, scolding him about touching open wounds with disgusting hands.

A lecture should follow, punishment should continue, but Mori dismisses him at the request. It feels like a death sentence.

Dazai almost thinks this is a trap. Mori has been too forgiving to him today for it not to be. He’s been let off the hook for every way he's broken the rule not to hurt himself, and gone against medical instruction from Mori about treatment of injuries. Now, he’s allowed to leave early. With Chuuya. After he has been told many times not to get too close.

Dazai knows he just isn’t allowed to walk home alone, but Mori should have just told them to make Chuuya wait. It’s impending, Dazai’s going to be in trouble. He’s not done with his training, he’s going to mess up.

”I have other business to attend to,” Mori continues when Dazai still hasn’t moved to leave. “Other than the stitches, you looked decent enough. I will finish your checkup another time. So for now, no more hurting yourself, okay Dazai? I don’t want you doing stuff like that. It hurts me to see self made injuries on you.”

Dazai flexes his fingers, something he can now recognize as guilt settling over him. If not the other stuff, he wonders if Mori at least has time to fix that before he goes. It shouldn’t take too long, and Dazai is still sitting on the exam table. It's a small one Mori got specifically for him, it stays in a storage room attached to the office until Dazai needs either a check up or punishment.

Right now it’s both. He wants to get this all over with right now. He wants to go see Chuuya even more, but this needs to be done first so he doesn’t mess up anymore.

He doesn’t get to be let off the hook, he doesn’t get to be exempted.

”Mori—”

”No, go now, Dazai. I am more upset with you than I realized. Once I heard Nakahara wants to take you…” Mori curled Dazai’s hair out of his face, but was looking down at the almost healed scratches on his arms, “Well it’s better that Nakahara takes you right now anyways.”

”But,” he doesn’t stutter, his throat is just thick from all the complaining he had done when Mori had taken out his stitches. He didn’t like Chuuya near those, let alone Mori — he had gotten a hold of himself though, he did not need to be additionally in trouble for hyperventilating.

”Dazai,” he warned, cutting him off again.

”I thought you didn’t want me to.”

”I don’t want you ruining Nakahara. He is a valuable asset to us, and I will not have you drive him away or ruin his trust in the Mafia. This is already the second time I’m explaining this.”

”I understand.”

Mori did not say anything after that, only stepped on Dazai’s discarded shirt before he left.

Mori left without fixing him. His training…

What was he going to do? Dazai didn’t want to become useless. He had already turned into something so unsalvageable at home, and now Mori didn’t even bother trying to fix him.

He doesn’t mean to go against Mori’s word. He really doesn’t, but he needs something to stop everything racing around him. He needs to compose himself before he goes to find Chuuya. The other cannot know something is up. So, he does his best to line his shaky fingers up to the finger nail marks in his arm from earlier this morning, and digs in until he feels skin rip.

That hurt. He regrets it almost instantly, and tears flood his eyes before he can stop himself. Now, he’s squeezing his wrist, trying to make the throbbing go away. He wants Chuuya.

He needs to cover himself up before he can see Chuuya, he rationalizes in a voice that sounds a lot like Mori’s. Chuuya can’t find out more than he already has. He cannot get closer. It’s for the better like that.

There’s three cuts on his side. Despite his inability to hide one a few days ago, it’s the same cut. It’s a chance Mori gave him to learn from his mistakes by removing the stitches. The other two are only to add to the challenge, to push him to do better than before. They’re the beginning of his list of failures Mori had given him a physical way to keep track of.

It’s hard to remember that though, a lot of things have been slipping his mind recently. It made sense earlier, but now that he’s left without Mori and with incomplete training, he’s stuck.

All he could remind himself now was the faster he covered up, the faster he could go see Chuuya. Left with barely enough bandages to close the three cuts on his side, he curses Mori for spiting him in every single little way he could. However, they will be enough to hide the bleeding until he gets home to properly deal with it.

Well. The two cuts Mori made were shallow enough that the injury Chuuya had stitched up should be the worst out of the three. It wasn't even that bad. So, by “deal with it,” he does mean go to sleep.

He’ll get rid of his blanket, so it can’t get dirty again. If it doesn’t get dirty again, then Chuuya won’t have to clean it, or take care of him anymore. Plus, if it’s gone, he won’t be able to be little anymore. He could sleep like any normal person, the blanket wasn’t necessary anymore.

It’s perfect. All he has to do is make it home. Calm down and make it home. He blinks away the tears that had clouded his vision, proud that none of them had actually fallen. Maybe with Mori’s help he could actually fall back into his training.

With his only remaining bandages wrapped around his side, Mori’s coat was the only thing left to shield him. The only small mercy is Mori hadn’t taken the bandages around his eye.

Putting the coat on after he buttons his shirt hurts, slipping his arms though it feels yucky for some reason. It should feel good to have Mori’s coat on after knowing that the older is going to help him, but it just feels heavy.

He’s just not used to wearing it with the sleeves on, that’s it. Mori had only left him enough bandages to cover his wounds. His neck, arms, legs — everything, is exposed now. He never wears the sleeves of his coat, but even with his long sleeves rolled down and the coat on, there are not enough layers between his skin and the world. They’re too loose, where his bandages were reassuringly tight, so nothing would slip out.

He bundles up to hide his neck, hanging his head and scrunching his shoulders. It also serves to make his hair hang in a shield around his face. Not that anyone will see him on his walk to Chuuya’s office, it’s pretty high up and everyone should be working anyways. He should take this time to fully compose himself, since he’s fully alone right now.

All he can think about is that he’s finally going to see Chuuya. They’re going to go home and Dazai’s not going to feel anything anymore. He can go and lock himself in his bedroom and sleep.

There’s a lot going on, but he only finds himself in some serene place. That headspace is sitting at the edge of his mind, but it’s okay. He’s never going into it again. This was all going to work out, he can feel it.

Chuuya crashes into him. Not actually, he’s just sitting in his office chair, but Dazai crumbles to the ground like Chuuya ran into him the second he sees him sitting there. Actually seeing his Chuuya, with his refreshers on the rules sitting heavy on him, makes the dread all too real.

All Dazai can feel is his blood pumping through him, throbbing his wounds in reminder. He doesn’t feel his knees crack on the ground, but he knows he’s fallen all the same.

He’s being absolutely fucking pathetic right now.

There’s never been a definite moment where he can feel himself drop into that headspace, it’s always just happened. It’s just been there. Now he’s falling faster and faster, every bone breaking when he crashes into the rock hard bottom of it. His knees ache, he can barely process anything other than how much his entire body hurts right now. He hates this body, there’s always something wrong with it. Wrong with him.

Fully little in seconds, Chuuya’s by his side even sooner. That didn’t help.

It needs to go away. He can’t be a damn baby all the time, he needed to make Chuuya back off. This won’t work anymore, it’s time to grow up and handle this situation like he was taught to.

A hand touches his arm, probably looking to calm him down because he’s throwing a fit, but this wasn't how this was going to work anymore. He intends to yank away from Chuuya, stand up and fire Chuuya from his babysitting job, but all that happens is he falls forward to fold in on himself. He does try to pull away from the hand on his arm, but all he can really do is pull the coat to wrap himself in it. He becomes some kind of turtle. With that coat as his shell, he retreats inside of it. He’s hiding in it, arms caging in his head and pulling the coat over him from the back so Chuuya can’t see him anymore.

It doesn’t make Chuuya forget he was there like he wished it would, but he does pull his hand away.

With all the movements, his forearms are peeking out of his sleeves. This coat is way too big on him, but it’s all twisted and scrunched up because he decided to be dramatic and fall to his knees. He wants to fix it before Chuuya notices that his bandages are gone, but before he knows it, Chuuya is rubbing his back. Any thought leaves in the breath it causes him to release. Something hitches in his throat, and all of the sudden he is sniffling.

Chuuya has truly broken him. Cracked open that shell, and left him as the nothing he is on the inside.

He can’t cry at work. He’s been so good about it the whole day. Probably the only positive that he has to show for today.

“Chuu?” he tries.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me that,” Dazai says as he rips away from the hand rubbing his back as best as he can while folded over his knees. He’s not crying yet.

He’s not going to cry.

“I’m not some fucking baby.”

If Chuuya just tells him to get up off the damn floor, he’ll be better. He does not need to be picked up, he needs to be reminded that he can stand up by himself, and that he can take it.

“Dazai, don’t talk like that.”

And, wow, if that didn’t push him into an even smaller headspace. Smaller as in more constricting. Once he gets out of this, he’s never regressing again. Chuuya can take all his fancy terms and screw off.

“Chuuya does all the damn time.”

“Okay, Hun,” something so condescending, said so sweetly by Chuuya. That nickname means he’s spending too much time with Kouyou. “Not the time or place, let’s get home.”

Oh shit. Kouyou. Chuuya blew off her training for him earlier. A training he had probably already been late to in the first place. All because of Dazai. That had slipped his mind, hadn’t connected until now. He can’t believe he did that.

“I can walk home by myself.” Chuuya shouldn’t deal with this any longer. “I don’t want to be with Chuuya for that long anyways, and I have more work to do.”

“No, it's time to go home now.”

Instead of being yanked to his feet, kicking and screaming, like he should be, the turtle lump he had become on the ground was pulled to sit up. And, of course, he was pulled right against Chuuya.

There’s some ridiculously plaintive whines falling out of his mouth. He knows that it’s him, even if he can hear it more than feel it. And he’s trying to hide them by burying his face in Chuuya’s neck, but it’s not working. One of Chuuya’s hands is rubbing circles on his back, probably trying to get him to shut up, but Dazai swears that hand is what’s pushing out those pathetic whimpers. So, he’s not sure if the hug is helping or making it worse, but the pressure of Chuuya’s arms around his back is the only thing keeping him from going over the edge.

He’s not crying, but he might as well be. Especially when Chuuya starts to pull away, his breathing starts to pick up, tripping out of his lungs and into the widening space between them. Dazai’s not ready to move. If he moves— It’s already all going downhill, but if Chuuya lets go. Well, Dazai doesn’t know exactly what will happen, but it will be over if it comes to that.

He wants to curl back into himself, he’s shaking so hard. It’s not stopping and he’s halfway to folding back in half, but Chuuya grabs his arms. There’s a split second of panic when he feels his shirt fabric brush against his skin instead of his bandages, but then Chuuya is saying something embarrassing, “Come here, I’m not going anywhere. Just…” They shuffle around a little bit because Chuuya is pulling his arms to wrap around his shoulders, “Give me a better hug.”

As Chuuya is hugging him again, he’s realizing that his arms had been stiff at his sides the whole time. He feels a lot better like this, so he squeezes Chuuya tight.

Eventually, he is pulled to stand. Dazai makes a fuss about it, “You tricked me,” he bemoaned, whining and slumping against Chuuya.

”What?”

”Made me put my arms ‘round you, so ‘could pull me up.”

”Yeah, yeah. You got me.”

It does get them off the floor in the easiest way possible. He hadn't been planning on letting go of Chuuya, and this got his feet under him without detaching him. So, he guesses it’s fine.

It’s worse standing up though. It puts them back in the office.

Chuuya helped him stand in a way that made him want up.

Not at work.

Stupid Chuuya.

Aside from that, that headspace was a lot scarier when he was still at work. It takes whatever Chuuya had pulled him into after he fell, and turns it around to push him right back over. He wants to be at home, back in his room and able to lock his door. They might be in Chuuya’s office, but Mori’s still only a few stories up.

Hell, there’s probably someone right next door. People wandering the halls. Or someone looking for Chuuya, about to knock on his door.

About to open it without knocking. It’s not probably not locked, Chuuya doesn’t have an office high up enough to even have a good lock on it.

He’s so stupid for doing this here. For doing this at all. No more than fifteen minutes ago, Mori warned him to back off of Chuuya, and he’s still wrapped around him. Clinging onto his hug because if he’s left here alone, he will be done for.

”Time to go home.”

He shook his head. He was staying here. He can’t go home. Home felt like being called to Mori’s office all over again. Mori would know he doesn’t follow the rules, and didn't listen to his warnings. He’d be in so much trouble because he had told Mori that he understood so many times, and a complete turn around was expected.

His side tugged in reminder of these expectations. Every pull on one cut made the other two scream in sympathy. Standing up straight was not welcome. It probably didn’t hurt that bad, but that headspace made him dramatic. So much for never going into it again, his working plan had been to remember the pain to keep him out of it. If he could resist it after a day like today, then he would start to learn. He would be able to apply his training. He was supposed to be adaptable, flexible, able to get over every bump in the road smoothly.

Then, he saw Chuuya.

Seeing Chuuya had released some tension in his chest. Something hitched horribly, and then dissipated. Made him realize how badly it hurt, and he had crashed into the feeling instead.

This wasn’t how Mori taught him to feel pain. It wasn’t supposed to hurt, it was supposed to clear his head and remind him. It sure as hell was reminding him of the rules, but the more it hurt, the more he retreated. Mori was going to lose it when he found out Dazai’s training had truly failed.

Dazai’s never seen Mori angry. Maniacal, maybe. There’s no energy left to sort through this card deck right now, but he can imagine how much worse Mori would make it when he realized Dazai was back at square one.

”Dazai—” but Dazai shook his head again.

”Don’ wanna,” he mumbled, barely had enough air to talk.

”Why not?”

No words come to him, there’s too much to say and it’s all stuck in his throat. He can’t remind Chuuya that he’s not his babysitter. He would not understand the urgency if Dazai told him Mori thinks they are getting too close. Full offense would be taken if Dazai told him he was not a babysitter, just a suicide watch. Dazai isn’t going to be a baby anymore so he does not need one, and he wasn’t going to kill himself today. It might have been appealing, but the thought is entirely too scary to give in to.

That means Chuuya has no reason to be here.

It twisted something in him, but Dazai has manipulated Chuuya into thinking he cared about him. Once Chuuya realized there was nothing there but obligations, Dazai’s going to be alone again. It’s his own fault for getting attached in the first place.

Shrugging his shoulder at Chuuya’s question was apparently not the right answer because he rolls his eyes at Dazai. When Chuuya links their arms, he’s got no choice but to follow him to the door. Chuuya barely stops to put his shoes on, stomps his foot back into them while already opening the door.

Not stupid enough to get caught, Dazai does pull his arm out from between Chuuya’s to trail behind him instead.

Just the walk to the elevator gives Dazai time to pull himself together, and time for his wounds to get worse. He knows no stitches are expected from here on out, there will be a scar check for these to make sure he didn’t close the wounds. No doubt a healing check in a few days too, if Mori can be convinced Dazai is good enough to continue his training.

Chuuya doesn’t let them walk home, he calls a driver while Dazai pouts and whines his normal pouts and whines. The driver pays them no mind as Chuuya very gently and caringly shoves Dazai into the car. He shouldn’t have let that happen, should have just got into the car, because it also means that Chuuya does his seatbelt for him.

That was it for him. Any hopes of getting out of that headspace before he got home was gone.

It’s okay. Just because he is feeling like this doesn’t mean he has to rely on Chuuya. It was fine before. He would have held his blanket and his bunny, then he would be fine. There’s other options. Just laying in bed works too.

His bunny. He would have to get rid of that too. He already misses the bunny so much because she has to spend most of the time in his closet.

It would be fine. Once he got home, he’d wait out this headspace. Then, he’ll be able to get rid of his things before he has a chance for it to happen again. He’ll be good again. He knows he can, he just got caught up in this selfish idiosyncrasy.

Soon after they get home, Dazai’s sat down on a soft bed. He can’t go through with his plan at the moment, because his brain has switched tracks. There’s a spike of fear that Chuuya’s going to leave him alone in the room.

And then Chuuya is gone.

Dazai’s too tired to do anything. The only thing that’s left to do is twist himself so he can fall back onto the headboard, and hide his head between his knees. This must be punishment.

He’s been in the way too much during the day, impeded everything Chuuya needed to do, and now Chuuya’s not going to deal with it at home. A bother since bright and early this morning, there’s no more time for Chuuya to take care of him. Even if there was, Chuuya had more important things to do.

“Hey, ‘Zai, c’mon. I’m not going far, it’s okay,” Chuuya’s wiping at his face then rubbing his back again, anything to quiet a noisy baby. He must be being too loud, he can feel the sobs wracking his chest.

He can stop. Without Chuuya’s help. He’s supposed to be in trouble, Chuuya’s been dealing with him all day. He’s in trouble, he can’t be loud and demanding of attention. Bothering Chuuya all day, and he’s still doing it. He’s still not fucking learning.

He tells Chuuya to go away but it comes out garbled. He’s been so bad today. He’s still being bad, and he thinks he spews something out about it too because he can hear Chuuya assuring him he’s done nothing wrong. Chuuya’s the one that’s wrong, he’s been so bad.

However, everything that made sense before has been lost. He can’t remember any of the reasons that he was upset, just that he had to stop acting this way. Mori refused to fix him, Chuuya’s poor attempt at punishment did nothing to help him learn, so he might as well do it himself.

All he had to do was be alone for a little while. His best bet was to convince Chuuya to let him go to his bathroom, it was the only place where he had something sharp enough hidden so he could finish Mori’s lesson. It wouldn’t be the same as self harm, Dazai just needed some way so he could learn.

A few deep breaths proved to be all he needed before his plan could go into action.

”You feeling better now?”

Perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s feeling perfect.

Pathetically, he nodded. He needed to play up the baby act for only a little longer, then never again.

”I’m going to go get you a change of clothes. You can come with me. Up?”

”I wanna shower.”

It’s seamless plan, it gets him to his bathroom with an excuse to be alone. Chuuya knows that he can’t stand to be undressed around others.

Still, Chuuya looks hesitant at the idea. Dazai gets it. Chuuya is a suicide watch, and Dazai probably looks pretty unstable.

To leave him by himself is a risk, but Chuuya trusts Dazai all to easily. After lots of convincing, they agree on a quick shower. Dazai has to leave the door cracked, and Chuuya has to promise not to come in without knocking.

”Call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll be just in the other room. I’m gonna go put in a load of laundry, then I’ll be back here.”

”I’ll be fine.”

”Probably gonna put all your clothes away while I wait then.” Dazai smiled sheepishly while Chuuya said, “I’m checking on you in fifteen minutes.”

That left him plenty of time. Before he’s even sure Chuuya has left the room, he’s digging scissors out of the old shampoo bottle he had in the back of the cabinet. The back was cut out so it’s easy access to hide things.

But it doesn’t matter how easy it is because Dazai has become faulty.

Barely managing to break skin doesn’t do any good to teach him. He can’t do it, there’s hardly even a scratch on his arm, and it hurts. It barely swiped across his wrist, and still he swears it hurts more than Mori’s lesson.

Everything all at once just hurts, and it’s pinpointed right on his arm, pinpointed all over the place. He doesn’t know. He’s so weak. His expeditious heartbeat only drives him further into a panic. Fully boxes him into that headspace, instead of busting him out of it.

Nothing is working. This punishment was supposed to finish the job, he can’t be like this anymore if he wants to get over this hurdle. He just wants to do something right.

It hasn’t even been five minutes. Dazai can physically feel the crying more than he’s experiencing it. Busy trying to sort through that, he hasn’t even gotten to what he’s going to do to fix himself. The door’s opening before he can string together a single thought. There’s no way it had been fifteen minutes.

He forgot to even turn the shower on.

Seeing Dazai curled up in the corner of the bathroom, and his first thought was Ah, shit. He’s never leaving Dazai alone when he's feeling like this ever again. It had seemed reasonable at the time. Dazai needed space, Dazai had looked like he was telling the truth when he kept telling Chuuya he felt gross and needed to shower. Then, Chuuya never heard the shower turn on.

Chuuya did knock once, but there was no answer, and he had heard tiny sniffles when he was that close to the door. True to their promise, the door had been cracked, so he pushed it open after letting the empty air know he was coming in. If Dazai heard him, he didn’t make any indication.

The open scissors on the floor were all he needed as explanation.

Kneeling in front of Dazai, Chuuya is lost on what to do. Curling in on himself at the sight of Chuuya, it looks like Dazai won’t respond well to touch. He doesn’t look all the way present.

Dazai is never leaving his side when he’s a baby ever again. Screw his back, Chuuya is carrying him everywhere with him. Most of the time when he has to put Dazai down, it’s when he needs to grab something. This situation was extreme though. Chuuya isn’t going to risk it ever happening again.

Dazai hated being alone, and Chuuya just can’t believe it took him this long to get it though his head. Maybe Dazai is right when he calls him thick headed.

Any hesitance of thinking Dazai didn’t want him there was thrown away, because this has gone too far. Chuuya was supposed to be taking care of him, it’s his fault Dazai got to this point. Crying, shaking all day long, and bleeding on the bathroom floor. This is never happening again.

Leaning towards him the second Chuuya touches him, Dazai doesn’t only let Chuuya move him, but he’s the one moving to be closer. It’s weird, he expected a fight here, but he can see that Dazai is completely wrung out. There’s nothing he should do but let Dazai crawl into his lap.

“Hurts,” it sounds a lot like he’s begging, “Chuu, it hurts. I don’ feel good.”

Chuuya is trying to find the injury, but Dazai’s fully curled up and wailing his name.

“I know,” Chuuya is out of his depth. It’s like Dazai thinks Chuuya is the solution, even though it’s him that got them here in the first place. He’s not one to deny Dazai though, no matter how guilty he feels about this. “We’ll put some cream, and after I bandage them up, they’ll feel all better. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

Nothing can ever be that easy. Chuuya wishes that eased him, even the slightest, but Dazai tensed up.

“Don’ tell ‘em,” he’s still trembling, and Chuuya can only think he owes Dazai the best hugs in the world to make up for this. He had said he would spoil Dazai, but—

“Wasn’t selfharm,” when Dazai slurs that out, Chuuya backtracks, catching up to the line of thinking Dazai’s going down right now, “Promise. Promise, don’t tell, ’s—“

It’s not time to be trapped in his own head. “No one is telling Mori.”

“P’ease don’,” his voice is shaky, and he’s heaving whenever he forced the words out.

The only thing Chuuya can do is pat his back and promise, “I won’t. Sweetheart, I won’t tell him, but you gotta take some big breaths for me.”

“‘S not self‘arm.” he begs anyways, like there’s nothing left for him to do. “Chuu, don’”

“Breathe, Hun,” he reminds, pulling Dazai closer, and hoping the argument will die out of him soon.

“Wasn’t...” Dazai’s too busy tripping over his breathing to finish that.

“Dazai,” he started, not too sure where to go with that, because it was. Dazai hid scissors in his bathroom and took them to his arm, there wasn’t anything else it could be.

“Promise ‘s not,” he whispered with his chest still heaving in desperation, all Chuuya can do is rub his back to help him even out his breathing.

Dazai is not hearing him right now, wouldn’t believe him even if he could. So, Chuuya doesn’t bother answering anymore, and tries to rock them back and forth as best as he could.

Not extensively, but Chuuya does know about pressure points. Ane-san taught him where they were so he knew the spots to land low effort hits that would hurt. It just so happens that he knows the location of the ones on the back of the neck, between the shoulders. It just so happens that they make Dazai melt.

More crying is expected, and Chuuya is doing his best just to make sure Dazai stops hyperventilating. He would pick him up to take him to the couch, give him his blankets, and hug him until all the anxiety was squeezed out of him, but Chuuya knows they’re stuck on the floor for a while longer. It’s been proven time and time again that Dazai will thrash and kick if he’s overwhelmed and scared. It’s no doubt Dazai regressed in his office earlier, and Chuuya is not about to stress out the baby more trying to get up before Dazai is calm enough to process where they were going.

No more misunderstandings, at least this one Chuuya can see clear as day before it happens. It’s about time he starts doing that. If he tries to move them, Dazai will think he’s being taken to Mori. Rocking and rubbing his neck is the best he can do while they’re stuck on the bathroom floor. It doesn’t last long.

“Can't be good,” he whimpered softly after he managed one single stable breath, and then it all collapsed. It pierced right through where Dazai had his face buried in his chest, and broke Chuuya’s heart. Dazai’s crying again, probably hadn't even stopped. “Not his rules, not yours. Punishmen’s aren’ working. Thought I could—“

“Stop.” Dazai lets out a pouty sound, still hacking out hidden little cries. He sounds horrible, and Chuuya knows he’s at his limit. Even if he’s majorly messed up, Chuuya’s still on his plan to spoil Dazai for the rest of the night.

He’s done so wrong by Dazai today. One wrong choice after another, little slip ups that pile up to make it worse. Hurting himself was always a last resort for Dazai, he really did hate pain. At the end of his rope, Dazai will be spoiled for the rest of the night. Chuuya will be damned if he ever feels like he’s being punished by him again.

“There’s no punishments behind our door, got it?”

“Being bad, you don’t un’erstand.”

“I do. I get it now, but you’re never to take your punishment into your own hands again. You hurt yourself, Dazai. That’s not okay.”

“Angry?” He sniffled, sounding heartbroken.

“No, Sweetheart. I’m not angry. You’re hurt, you don’t feel good when I get hurt, right?”

Just some broken sound like he was about to cry, but Chuuya knows the message got across.

“If you think you’re being bad, then we talk about it. We think of a way to fix it. You’re smart, we’ll come up with something. There’s no need to lie, and there’s no need to ever punish yourself again.”

“’m sorry.”

He’s never heard Dazai sound like this. Struggling to speak, his voice audibly thick. It was uncomfortable, the way they were sitting on the bathroom tiles, but Dazai was still in his lap even if his arms had dropped from the hug. Like his arms were too heavy, in too much pain, but it’s okay, because Chuuya’s still got him.

He shifts so he’s cradling Dazai, one arm holding his upper back and the other around his waist to keep him close. Naturally, Dazai shifts to hide his face in his neck. It’s easier to hold him like this. If he isn’t going to hug him back, Chuuya can keep him even closer like this.

”Don’t apologize,” he muttered, not sure what to say. He wasn’t ready for this.

Chuuya didn’t want him to feel guilty, to feel bad. Yeah, it stung that he lied to him, but only because Chuuya fell for it. Only because he knew Chuuya would fall for it, and that’s why he did it. Only because it turned into this.

But, in the end it wouldn’t break trust. Yeah, precautions would have to be taken to make sure it never happened again, but Chuuya can’t hold this against Dazai. It wasn’t personal. The way Dazai’s hurt, curled up in his arms, and begging him to make it better showed it wasn’t.

It wasn’t Dazai’s fault either, he had been desperate, and has no other way to communicate better. He doesn’t want him to feel guilty because punishment was the only way he thinks it can be fixed. This wasn’t something he did for fun. Chuuya wants to be able to get past this, not dwell on it. He just wants Dazai okay for tonight.

The best way to go about this is to stick to what they talked about weeks ago, when Dazai thought he was mad. They had clarified a lot, and Chuuya had hoped things would start to turn around from there.

Chuuya had to stick with it now, Dazai might be extremely stressed and wrung out right now, but his headspace was supposed to help. The first step was that Dazai had to start understanding that rules were different at their house. Maybe they’d have to have a better conversation on that. Just not when Dazai is like this because when it seems like he does understand, it all goes downhill a second later.

When Dazai chokes out another sob while trying to be quiet, Chuuya realizes he should probably say more. He’s had his time to sort through his thoughts, he doesn’t want Dazai to feel alone.

”You don’t have to be sorry,” Chuuya felt like he was grasping at synonyms, he doesn’t know how to make this better. He really only had an outcome in mind. “It’s not your fault, and no one’s mad at you for it.”

Dazai let out a shaky breath, and Chuuya can only adjust while Dazai squirms around.

Chuuya really needs to get it together. He’s sick of Dazai needing to be this distressed just to go into his headspace.

Slightly nervous that Dazai hasn’t answered him yet, he starts rubbing his neck again. Dazai doesn’t seems like he believes him, but he still carefully asks, “Not mad?”

Dazai’s trying. It’s bizarre to see, but he is. Past a limit, and he’s still trying.

”No, Baby,” he says on accident because he can’t get it out of his head that Dazai’s just a baby. “Of course I’m not mad. I would tell you, remember?”

”Not a baby.” He was all muffled pouts, and yes he really was.

Chuuya really wanted to explain why he wasn’t mad. Explain to Dazai that he understands, so he can’t be mad.

Maybe he was making yet another mistake, but Dazai doesn’t need to be having complicated, draining conversations right now. The right move felt like picking Dazai up, and carrying him straight to the couch so he can be held comfortably for the rest of the evening. Now it’s time to over-indulge Dazai in every basic thing he’s been denying himself. He can be a baby along the way or not for all Chuuya cares. He just needs to let himself be taken care of.

”Ehh?” Chuuya teased, “but you’re pretty small right now.”

“No,” Dazai shouted. It held no weight behind it because his face feels warm, and he’s easily hiding it. It’s been decided, he’s never moving again.

Unfortunately, as he’s wiggling around to be closer, he remembers that he’s not just hurt on his arm. His side tugs, and he’s sure he just reopened anything that had started to close. The three wounds on his side are sure to be found, he might as well tell Chuuya. He doesn’t have the energy to patch them up right now, and he knows Chuuya will be upset if he doesn’t clean them properly.

He’s going to have a field day when he learns that the bandages around them had been on the floor.

That doesn’t stop his throat from closing when he goes to tell Chuuya about it. Sure, he’s hoping acting like he believes Chuuya will make it feel like he’s not going to be in trouble, but his stomach is still killing him. It’s somehow an ache and a sharp pain all at once, twisting around to tell him it will not be okay. Something will go wrong, because it always does.

Chuuya says he wasn’t angry, but that can always change at the drop of a hat.

He doesn’t know what he will do if Chuuya is angry at him.

“Okay, Sweetheart, let’s get up off the floor. Your arm’s hurting pretty badly, isn’t it?” It is, but right now it’s really his heart beating like mad that’s getting to him. Everything feels sideways, he’s really not sure what to do, but he’s getting really nervous.

“Chuu?” Chuuya will make it better. He always does.

“Yeah?”

“Won’t be angry?”

Confused, and now a little on edge because what the hell? “Of course I won’t,” he promises.

Quickly, before he can overthink it, Dazai grabs his wrist and puts his hand on his side. Immediately he feels the blood soaking into his shirt at the pressure.

The worst comes to mind, he can see it all unfold on Chuuya’s face. No matter that it’s not a crazy amount of blood. It’s where those stitches were supposed to be, but that didn’t matter either.

Dazai tries to shrink away because he can see Chuuya is feeling a lot, and normally that causes him to get angry. Chuuya doesn’t let him get far, already unbuttoning the bottom of his shirt, pulling away the shirt he uses for layering, and Dazai lets him. He tries to remind himself that Chuuya promised. That there's no stopping a scared partner. Dazai would do the same thing if Chuuya didn’t let him know he was hurt, then all of the sudden there was an injury, and he couldn’t see how bad it was.

That doesn’t stop Dazai from getting nervous. All Chuuya’s hard work to get those stitches in is gone. Now there’s two new wounds, and all three are sluggishly bleeding while looking like they are on their way to getting infected.

He expects to be yelled at. If not angrily, then one of Chuuya's exasperated—

“Sweetheart...”

Dazai didn’t know how to spin this so it sounded like he was the one that did this.

He wants to say something, explain himself. He wasn’t ungrateful for Chuuya’s efforts, he was just in trouble with Mori. Dazai’s training had been cut short, and he had to finish it. The cuts on his side were the beginnings of it, and the failed cut on his arm was proof he needed it. It wasn’t self harm. It was just that for the first time, Mori stopped helping him.

His lungs felt like they were being torn apart.

Naturally, Dazai decided to make it worse. “See? I’m not good.” It didn’t come out exactly like that, it was all slurred like he was some baby just learning to talk. He can barely get the words to come out, let alone be something cohesive. It’s too hard, everything hurts and he can’t think straight.

Try to make Chuuya mad. It’s probably his only option unless he wants to keep acting like this. Maybe Chuuya should be mad at him, Dazai should be arguing with him until he was. Chuuya’s judgment is clouded. “No punishment worked, so I had to do it myself.”

”Sweetheart,” Chuuya said again, “I’m not mad. Don’t do that.”

It wasn’t him. He wanted to scream it. It was Mori, it wasn’t him.

Gathering up all the strength he could to make the muscles in his mouth work with him, he bit out, ”Do you not get it? I had to.”

”No, Dazai. I understand fine, but do you remember when I said there was no punishments in our house?”

Huh. Maybe his words were still more muddled than he thought they were. As quickly as he had felt like he had ascendancy, Chuuya had to use that tone of voice on him. The question sent a pang of panic through his chest, but it was nothing like when Mori asked him stuff. The complete opposite actually. He’s not sure when Chuuya was so assertive with him though.

He nodded.

”That means that you do not deserve them. You’re never going to learn like that, you’re only going to hurt. I don’t want the only reason you end up like this,” Chuuya squeezed him tight, “to be because you’re at your limit.”

”Don’t wanna,” he insisted like Chuuya would understand. He was not a baby, and he didn’t want to be. He should not be treated like one.

However, Chuuya was shaking his head. “Doesn’t seem like it to me. You just need someone there for you. If it’s easier for it to be in your headspace, then it’s fine like that.”

”Not my headspa—”

“Plus, that’s the opposite of what you told me the other day. Just don’t worry about ‘doing this right,’ and I promise it can work out.”

Chuuya was smiling at him. Like he won.

Stupid.

”Sweetheart,” Chuuya said when all Dazai was doing was sitting there, pretending he could ever get angry at Chuuya.

”Hmph.”

”Don’t worry. I see you trying, okay? I just want you to be with me on this. You’re never gonna get in trouble with me because you don’t deserve to be. Never in this way, so let’s get up and I’ll patch you up, m’kay?”

Dazai doesn’t want to imply that Chuuya won, but he’s never heard his voice so pitiful as when he agreed, “‘Kay.”

Chapter Text

The famed butterfly stitches patched up the wounds on his side, and Chuuya would be happy just to get his normal bandages over that. He probably had some light ointment to help soothe Dazai’s arm too. Both of which Dazai has none of in his bathroom. Bandages were out, and he doesn’t care enough to use anything on his wounds other than possibly water. Chuuya has said his piece about that many times. Now was not the time to say it again because Dazai is still clinging onto him. His shaking had reduced and Chuuya wasn’t about to make it worse.

Taking the scissors away was bad enough. They had laid on the floor behind them, and when Chuuya had turned around to reach for a towel, he had tried to swipe them into his pocket. He had hoped Dazai wouldn’t notice.

Almost turning this into a whole ordeal before Chuuya had even finished treating the wound on his side, Dazai begged him not to take them. His voice was still muddled to where he couldn’t get full words out, but Chuuya got the message. If not, Dazai had been making desperate grabs at his pocket, but Chuuya had both his wrists at that point. When he had redirected it to a hug, Dazai squeezed tightly. Because he was so easy.

For someone who claimed he wasn’t a baby, Dazai did a lot of whimpering. Yeah, it shattered Chuuya’s heart to hear him say he needed those scissors, but Dazai was still just a baby. It made something protective swirl in his stomach, and there was no way Dazai was getting his hands on anything sharp ever again.

”No more punishment, Sweetheart. You don’t need them.”

After a while, Dazai pulled back to cross his arms and lean against the wall again. Unfortunately for his attempt at anger, his cheeks were all puffed out. The furrow of his brow was confused more than anything.

It took every remaining drop of will power Chuuya had not to laugh.

If Dazai was angry at him, he still let Chuuya reach over to curl the hair out of his face.

”You’ve been doing so good these past few months,” he said before Dazai could fire anything else at him.

”What looks better about this?” Mori had asked. Dazai didn’t know. He held up his arm, bandages already sagged off of them, so he yanked at them more. A handful of the dangling material was ripped off his arm, and at least Chuuya could see now.

”Haven't.” Dazai insisted, voice low.

There were scars like some kid had been let loose in an art museum with a marker. Scribbled all over his arm, it was nothing like what Mori wanted his artwork to look like. Most already faded to white, but there were still a good amount that were raised to show off the puffy pink skin.

“Yes you have,” Chuuya took the arm and pulled Dazai to sit in his lap again. “Progress doesn’t have to mean stopping completely. Maybe you can’t do that yet, but you haven’t done anything like this in a while, right?”

Dazai shrugged, cheeks still all puffy and pouty, but now they were turning pink.

”I’m proud of you no matter what progress looks like for you.” Beating up his rib cage as he spoke, Chuuya’s own heart had protested at saying something like that to Dazai, “Not everything can be done by brute forcing yourself forward.”

Again, all Dazai did was shrug. If punishing himself didn’t work, then he at least wished the scissors would have been enough to make him stop acting like a baby. No matter how nonchalant Chuuya acts, it couldn’t be like this all the time. The sign up sheet for Dazai’s babysitter was always blank. Chuuya didn't sign up to have Dazai as a roommate either, and that alone was bad enough. Chuuya would never have had to deal with this if Dazai wasn’t so stupidly dependent on him to live.

It will start to be a problem if he comes to rely on this headspace, and is like this all the time. Dazai can really never do this again after today.

After that, Dazai doesn’t really remember much. He’s sure Chuuya had more to say. He’s sure the three cuts on his side have been taken care of. But with his head fuzzy, there’s not much he’s actually sure of other than Chuuya’s arms are around him right now. When he nuzzles his nose into Chuuya’s neck, Chuuya gives him a little squeeze.

Then, he’s giving more than a little squeeze when he feels himself being put down in bed. When he reaches up to make Chuuya pick him up again, he’s all tangled in Mori’s coat, but he doesn’t care.

Chuuya is being so gentle with him, making him feel so good while he’s hurting that maybe, just this one time, it didn't matter. If this was the last time he would do this then it would be okay to be just a little needy. Dazai had already been so bad, even if Chuuya said he wasn’t. Maybe this would make Chuuya realize that he shouldn’t be taking care of Dazai.

Chuuya doesn’t know just how bad Dazai can get. He’s too tired to stop himself anyways.

So, Dazai squeezes Chuuya as tight as he can. He doesn’t remember being picked up, and he definitely doesn’t want to be put down.

”Baby…” is all he can hear from Chuuya.

”Mm-mm,” is all he can hum back.

Chuuya says more, probably, but he can’t leave Dazai alone on the bed so he’s not letting go. Chuuya better watch out, Dazai’s next step is to start climbing him.

Tragically, Chuuya does manage to pull away enough so they can be face to face. It’s not that big of a distance, leaving them so Dazai can’t lean far enough away from the hands cupping his face. Not without letting go of Chuuya’s shirt. That’s why Dazai instead decides to rest his face in those hands. Reassuring circles are being rubbed over his cheeks, so Chuuya can’t be leaving quiet yet.

”I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re on your bed, but I’m gonna pick you back up. I just had to put you down for a second.”

Dazai loosens his fingers in understanding. He’s weightless, and too heavy to hold himself up all at once.

”You’re all patched up. We’re going to my room cause you’re out of bandages in here. I wanna get some ointment for your arm too.”

Dazai sniffles and ducks his head to hide that his face was turning pink. He keeps overreacting.

”How are you feeling, Sweetheart.”

The question catches him off guard—

Or. Well, whatever.

He doesn’t know how to answer.

Dazai’s not capable of feeling.

Heavy?

Not real things at least. He’s not so good at relating what little he can to anything that is.

“I—“ Dazai stops, pouting at Chuuya for asking him when he knows Dazai is a monster that doesn’t feel anything. It was probably a rhetorical question, meant to be their normal banter, but Dazai can’t right now.

“His clothes,” he finally decides. “Off.”

The coat sits heavy on his shoulders, squeezed around his arms. He’s sure he’s lost circulation in them by now. He wanted it off. Already pulling the sleeves, Dazai’s only succeeding in trapping himself more, twisting the coat up around his arms.

The button up he wears starts to feel just as mangled as his arms. The coat pulls and pulls at them, but those sleeves start going to opposite direction of the coat, just to trap him. Dazai cant get out, but thankfully Chuuya steps in before he can start panicking. He’s telling him to stop even though Dazai’s not going to. He wants it off. It makes no sense that Chuuya told him to stop though because he didn’t make Dazai keep it on any longer. Actually, Chuuya’s quickly pulling the sleeves off his arms, balling it up, and throwing it in the corner of the room.

It lands next to Dazai’s desk.

Chuuya usually replaces his coat with a blanket. Now that, plus his bunny have to be thrown out. It won’t go over well if Chuuya knows he has to throw his stuff away. While Dazai might not understand why Chuuya is always against things like this, it’s obvious that he will be.

Dazai is trying to take his incentives to misbehave away, and Chuuya is insistent that he isn’t bad. Of course Chuuya would be against it.

Chuuya can’t know about the bunny in the first place. All the same, he’s not going to know about Dazai’s blanket disappearing either.

It’s already not going over well with Dazai. Over the past few weeks, the only two warning signs that he’s about to lose it are when his face gets hot, and his nose starts to hurt. He’s burning. He feels like he’s been punched.

Maybe he has other warning signs he doesn’t know about because Chuuya swoops in right away. Just another thing he can’t control right now.

Chuuya’s talking to him before he can overthink it too much. He’s touching Dazai's cheek again, there’s a hand on his back. “Do you want your bandages?”

Yeah, he needs those.

“Dazai?”

“Hm?”

“We’re gonna get ready for bed.” The hand on his cheek brushed his bangs out of his face, and it felt nice enough to lean into the touch. “Okay, Baby?” Chuuya was still looking for an answer.

“Not...” Dazai furrowed his eyebrows, trying to look as irritated as possible when he glanced at Chuuya.

”I know,” Catching Dazai by surprise, Chuuya kissed his forehead. Dazai’s bangs slid right back into his eyes. “Not a baby. But you are sleepy, aren’t you?”

He was, and it took everything in his power not to yawn. Chuuya must have still noticed.

”Let’s get ready for bed then.”

”No.” He can do it by himself. When he tries to say so, it sounds as clouded as his head feels.

“We both have to get ready for bed, we’ll do it together. Do you want to wear your bandages to bed tonight?”

“Mm,” he agreed.

Chuuya gives him a nod before he’s talking again. “There’s spares in the hall closet. Up?”

”Not tired,” he forces out once they are in Chuuya’s room. It doesn’t carry much heat behind it, but Dazai clings onto Chuuya’s neck concerningly tight, and hides his face when Chuuya finally manages to get the door open.

It wasn’t easy. Carrying Dazai occupies his arms which already feel dead from training this morning. Thankfully, Dazai had grabbed the bandages from the hall closet when asked, otherwise Chuuya would have had to put him down to reach them. He’s going to have to try carrying him vertically instead of in a princess carry if Dazai’s opposition to walking was going to be a pattern. Or, well, antipathy to being alone really.

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to be on the bed.

Gods, he was an idiot. The other day makes sense now too. The day he gave Dazai those fucking stitches — Chuuya shouldn’t even have pushed those, now look where they were — and would not tolerate being put in bed. Then again when they got home today, Chuuya had set him down on the bed so he could get him out of work clothes, and Dazai thought he was being punished.

It was staring him right in the face and he missed it. There’s a lot of problems with Dazai being alone when he’s little. It’s not just because he’s terrified of it. Chuuya should have noticed that sooner, they probably wouldn’t even be here if he did.

Hell, he shouldn’t have pushed Dazai when he was afraid of something, and just given him the butterfly stitches in the first place.

He can’t believe he didn’t connect it sooner. Those scissors are so heavy in his pocket. Dazai’s still clinging onto him for dear life.

“Don’t worry,” the words feel jagged when they come up, but his voice is soft as ever. There was so much for Dazai to worry about because Chuuya can’t stop making the wrong calls. “We aren’t going to bed yet. We still have to eat. But we'll have some dinner after you’re out of that clothes, yeah?”

Instantly, Dazai’s hands plant on Chuuya’s chest and he starts pushing away. It makes his tummy drop when he starts tipping backwards, but he wants down. It might be better if Chuuya just let him fall. He’s trying to say something about making dinner because Chuuya always wants a reason when he doesn't need one, but he’s used up all his minutes off talk. He can barely think anymore.

Easily stronger than him, unfortunately Chuuya gets a good hold around the back of his shoulders — with one arm, come on — and forces his face into his neck.

One there, Dazai doesn’t move again. The words had been sloppy, but Chuuya got it. Dazai wants to do it by himself. Thinks he has to, most likely. Chuuya doesn’t even try to argue about the dinner thing. It’s leftovers tonight, but he knows Dazai won’t hear that.

“I’m thinking we get you all bandaged up, then I have some better clothes for you to change into. Your own clothes. How’s that sound?”

He perked up instantly, “Chuu’s?”

“Not this time. Not unless you want them instead, but remember that new clothes we bought?”

Chuuya felt the tiny unsure nod.

“There’s a few pairs of jammies because the ones you had weren’t really the best for sleeping.”

Chuuya figured saying that he got those as a surprise would not be welcome. Dazai evidently didn’t know how to handle gifts, and he’s in no shape to try again. Hopefully with it being part of the overall order, the air is already cleared. Dazai won’t think twice.

Before Dazai gets a chance to decide though, Chuuya sits both of them on the floor in front of the box. Warily Dazai is staring at it, but he lets Chuuya open it without a word.

The other clothes was to tackle another day. Chuuya hasn’t even had time to wash it yet, so he digs around for the pajamas.

Dazai is looking at the box like it had teeth, but he is easily distracted when Chuuya holds up the two options. “Here. Pick your favorite.”

They are very much the same. The long sleeve shirts and pants are made out of the same velvety soft and fuzzy material. The only difference is one has teddy bear print all over the pants, and the other is solid color.

Eyes darted between the two like he was analyzing his options. So meticulous. Like there was a right answer to which one was his favorite.

He never picked. In the end, Dazai just stared at the teddy bear ones like he couldn’t have it if he admitted he wanted it. Same with the choice between sweat pants last time. He was a headache sometimes, but at least Chuuya could confidently drop the boring blue colored ones back on top of the box.

To be fair, Chuuya had bought the teddy bear ones with situations like this in mind. The plain ones were for if Dazai dubbed the ones with simple little teddy bears on the pants as too childish. He wanted Dazai to never put those sandpaper sweatpants on ever again, a baby or not. There were a lot of unexpected mental blocks when it came to Dazai having his needs met, regression related or not. There were a lot of things Dazai wouldn’t let himself have. That’s why it takes everything in Chuuya not to throw the teddy bear pajamas right at Dazai. If he wanted them so badly, he should just take them.

That’s not how it works for Dazai though. At least not when he’s a baby. Or just in general.

”These?”

Dazai shrugged his shoulders yes.

Chuuya smiled instead of rolling his eyes. Then, he asked Dazai to hold them for him while he picked him up. There was no coming unglued when Chuuya said he was going to set him on the bed. Both literally and not. Dazai’s grip didn’t loosen in the slightest, but he also didn’t panic when Chuuya pulled away.

”I’ll take those now.”

”By myself,” Dazai whispered so softly Chuuya wouldn’t be sure what he said, but this was Dazai he was talk to.

He’s also trying to hide everything from Chuuya, turning away from him and sliding back on the bed. Everything about him is telling.

Easing the bandages and pajamas out of Dazai’s hands was easy, but Dazai’s voice is already an upsurge of insistence that he will do it by himself. He’s not kicking yet, but Chuuya can see it’s the next step. Not looking to take a foot to the stomach again, he puts everything aside and reaches out to grab that stubborn idiot.

Instead of scrambling back more, Dazai leans towards him and reaches like Chuuya isn’t the one working against him. It’s cute, and Chuuya lets Dazai get in the millionth hug for the day. It’s obvious he needs them.

“I’m going to help you, Baby.”

“No,” he cries, but it’s weak, and he doesn’t do anything about it when Chuuya starts rolling up his shirt. He needed to wrap his side before anything.

Always the dramatist, Dazai sniffs and humphs at him while getting changed like he doesn’t do the same for Chuuya post-Corruption. He doesn’t say anything, so Chuuya is going to save that one. Dazai is mostly pliant right now. Just fussy. It will pass without Chuuya saying anything.

When they get into the kitchen Dazai is sat up on the counter like last time. He almost falls off reaching for Chuuya, but it works because Chuuya comes back to hold Dazai around the waist in a hug. And, yeah, he might be scooting Dazai back so he can’t do it again, but still. That’s the same thing.

”I’m gonna make the food right next to you, Sweetheart. It’s leftovers, I just need to put everything in bowls.”

Shaking his head, Dazai’s already wiggling back off the counter so Chuuya will pick him up again.

”Here,” Chuuya is putting one of the bowls in his outstretched hands. That’s not what he had been asking for. “Hold this for me?”

The counter has plenty of room for the bowls. Maybe there’s not much with him up here and the containers last night’s dinner is in, but there’s enough. Chuuya gets to see his unamused glare, but it makes him crack a smile. Dazai tries to get even more irritated to let Chuuya know that he does not think the lame attempts at tricking him are funny, but he only manages to make himself pout.

”It’s my bowl. Hold it for me while I make yours?” Chuuya tucks Dazai’s hair out of his face when he asks.

Dazai holds his breath to think before curling his fingers around the bowl. It turns into a scoff when Chuuya gets all cocky, and turns over to the container of leftovers. He would hold it, but only because it makes things easier on Chuuya (Realistically, there wasn’t much room on the counter, but that’s not Dazai’s problem). Chuuya didn’t lie to him either, he’s making the food right next to him. The containers are pressed against Dazai’s leg.

Holding it doesn’t really stop Dazai from wanting up again. He’s fidgeting, and squirming, and Chuuya is taking forever. The fuzzy pajama pants keep brushing against the edges of his bandages when he moves. Annoying, there is a telltale gap where his bandages meet his socks. It’s not exactly overwhelming, but he likes to keep everything in. That means he wraps them low enough so the ankle of his socks can go over them, but Chuuya did them for him this time.

Almost wondering what it would be like if he completely opted out of the bandages on his legs, Dazai’s glad he didn’t. They’re overwhelmingly soft. He appreciates the clothes, maybe even likes them, but there’s really no reason he should have accepted. Something so soft and comfy mirrors that headspace, and if he’s never going into again he really doesn’t need this stuff.

There’s no reasonable explanation for him to keep them. Chuuya made him. Chuuya always made things seem like they were okay. Made Dazai forget that he was Dazai, that he couldn’t have these things.

Well, he can’t force him to keep his blanket.

Things work out in his favor, and Chuuya puts one bowl in the microwave. It makes his heart bump in his chest when Chuuya thanks him for holding his bowl, but Dazai has got more important things to focus on right now.

There’s no doubt once Chuuya is done preparing his own food, he’ll go put the containers away. The childish part of Dazai wants to demand that Chuuya pick him up before he goes to the fridge, but it’s the perfect opportunity for Dazai to slip away.

Dazai is losing his touch. The lid snapping onto the container makes it click in his brain that it's time for Chuuya to go to the fridge. The part about waiting for Chuuya to actually turn around to get there slips his mind. Dazai really needs more time in Mori’s office because he stumbles off the counter with only hope that Chuuya wouldn’t notice.

”Hold on, hold on,” Chuuya is steadying him before his feet get to touch the floor, and Dazai is so stupid. “I’ll pick you up, just let me put the lid on this.”

With wide eyes, Dazai shakes his head.

Chuuya hesitates, but doesn’t loosen his hold, ”No?”

Dazai didn’t realize that his little stunt earlier would break Chuuya’s trust this much. He shook his head.

”It’s no problem, come here.”

Dazai shakes his head faster this time, and shies away. He needs to go to his room by himself.

”You wanted up earlier. What happened, Sweetheart?”

To make Chuuya understand that he can let go, Dazai just points into the direction of his room.

Stupid Chuuya, made you look.

He slips away from Chuuya when he turns to look and asks, “Your room?” like he’s all confused.

”No—” Chuuya’s fingers brush his arm, and he tenses up when that lets Chuuya get a grip on his upper arm even though he wasn’t hurt there, “Hold on. Why do you need to go to your room?”

”Quick.”

”Dazai, what do you need from in there?”

”Really really quick,” he is leaning away as Chuuya is tugging him closer.

”Baby.”

”Hmph.”

”You’re not going by yourself. C’mon, I’ll take you.”

“Do something.” Mumbling as firmly as he can, he tells Chuuya, “Myself.”

It doesn’t help him plead his case because Chuuya’s already shaking his head no.

”Yes,” Dazai shouts before he even realizes it. Stomping his foot, yanking his arm, face getting all hot. Just about ready to throw himself on the floor if Chuuya doesn’t let him go. Chuuya wanted to see how bad he was, right?

Using all his strength, he rips his arm away. Behind his eyes start to ache even more, and it hurts all the way down to his chest. He already feels horrible, but he’s starting to cry again.

”Myself,” he wails, when Chuuya is able to grab him again. With both his arms caught, he can’t manage to do anything to calm himself down. Chuuya’s gotten faster, he’s on edge from earlier. He promised Chuuya he wouldn’t try to punish himself again, and he didn’t have anything hidden anymore. It left him with nothing to stand on.

He’s going to tear his blanket to shreds if he’s not allowed to do it to himself anymore. “Check,” he insists, wrestling with Chuuya’s hands to get his sleeves out of the way.

“Go myself,” he heaves out, trying to grab handfuls of bandages, but Chuuya has his wrists tight, “‘n you—”

”Dazai, Baby,” all of the sudden his feet are pulled out from under him and he’s sitting in a chair. He doesn’t even remember moving that far from the counter.

”Check,” he mumbles again, but Chuuya lets go of his wrists only for his arms to fall uselessly in his lap.

He’s too tired to even unwrap the bandages so Chuuya can know that he could check under them when he comes back. To show he wasn’t lying. He lets Mori do it, so he would let Chuuya do it in a heartbeat.

“I’m not gonna check, okay?” Chuuya had an awful look on his face, and he pulled Dazai against him. “I’ll let you do what you need to do, and I’ll wait outside the door.”

With Chuuya standing while he sits, it lets Dazai have his head right on his chest. Chuuya’s heart is racing as fast as his. Did he do that?

It forces him to take a breath. Even though it still feels like he took a baseball bat to the head, he needs to get better before Chuuya gets tired of him. Funnily enough, it all goes away when Chuuya starts running fingers through his hair.

”To your room, then,” Chuuya says once the microwave interrupts, rapidly beeping to remind them that the food was finished long ago.

Dazai’s already reaching before Chuuya finishes asking if he wants up.

It ends with him standing in front of his closet. He could barely stand the sight of his blanket, so he tucked it under his arm. Like an idiot, he’s standing in front of his closet clutching his bunny stuffie as tight as he could. He’s not sure where the best place to throw away this stuff was, so he is really just standing here holding the bunny. The trash in his bathroom was his best bet, but Chuuya was outside his door, and would not let him shut it. The open closet door is the only thing blocking Chuuya’s view of his chagrin.

Considering everything, Dazai is sure Chuuya will come running if he goes to the bathroom again. Chuuya didn’t have to see what was going on. He could be so fast.

All that is really in that trash can is old bandages, but putting it there feels so wrong. It doesn’t even feel like getting rid of it. Simply putting his stuff in the trash can would make it dirty, but they would still be there. Which is actually the opposite of what he wants because then Chuuya can just clean it again. Dazai is done, he wants to be done.

If he keeps this crap then he is only going to keep on going into this headspace. The bathroom was right there. However, his body was already making the choice for him, and he’s sitting down on the wall near his closet.

His stuff belongs in the trash. His bunny and the blanket used to only be aids for him to ride out this headspace, but now that Chuuya explained what exactly this headspace was, having this stuff was selfish. He doesn’t deserve it, but it’s his. Sitting down, he buried his face in his blanket, and his bunny already found a spot on his chest and tucked right under his chin.

It’s just like the pajama pants, he thinks distantly. Something as soft as that has no place to be felt on skin like his, but Dazai only hugs his bunny tighter when he hears Chuuya start to get anxious in the hall. The goal had been to get rid of his things so he can’t regress anymore, but Chuuya was going to come in and see. Moving without Chuuya picking him up was out of the question, and he can’t think up an answer when Chuuya calls, “How’s it going in there, Dazai?”

He’s being completely pathetic right now. The garbage was right there. If he stood up, he would be able to see it from where he is. Instead, he sniffles into his blanket, and only hopes hiding his face will get his breathing under control.

So predictably, Chuuya is sitting down with him. At least Dazai attempted to hide his bunny, but he doesn’t think the ruse will last long. It’s pretty obvious that Dazai is past the point of no return. Chuuya took his self righteously appointed babysitter job very seriously today, and all that’s left is for Dazai to be wrapped up in that blanket Chuuya bought him. He’s not sure where that is, but he wants it so bad. Try to recreate that delightful sleep he had been getting way earlier this morning. Be done with being awake, and dealing with the repercussions of that.

”Did you do what you needed to?”

Like a dog that forgot his commands, Dazai can’t speak, so he just shakes his head. If Mori ever found out Dazai is this defective, then he would be — Dazai isn’t sure. Angry, probably. Dazai can’t keep the thought in his head for long.

”You know, if you were looking for your blanket then I could have helped you.”

This time, Dazai gets dizzy from shaking his head so hard. Everything comes spilling out with it, too. To ease his face out of the blanket, Chuuya’s hands find their way to hold his face. It washes a gentle sensation over him, and that alone makes him feel all fluttery inside like he’s about to explode.

He wants to cry, but he also wants to return the soft look on Chuuya’s face. When he finally looks up, he forgot about holding onto his blanket, and it tumbled to the ground. It unveils his bunny, and that definitely makes him lean towards crying.

He sees the second Chuuya spots it. There’s mostly shock before Dazai snatches it up.

”Who’s that?” Chuuya asked, as if that wouldn’t make Dazai feel like the floor has given out under him, and he’s plummeting down a level. It’s not enough to kill him, but it sure is close.

The bunny hides squashed against his chest, but it’s too late. He tried to use his blanket to hide it too, but an ear flops out. He can’t do anything right.

”He’s so cute, can I see him?”

Dazai squeezes the bunny tighter. Chuuya may not see her. She is Dazai’s.

“I bet he wants to come watch TV with us.”

Stuffing her back in the closet does sound mean. Dazai isn’t watching TV right now, so he curls protectively around the bunny.

”He was a bunny, right?” Chuuya tries one last time, nudging Dazai when he still doesn’t answer.

Dazai gives a tiny nod.

”Alright, Baby. Give your bunny a big hug, and I'll carry you. We should make our way to the couch.”

”Up,” he whispers.

”Yeah, up.” Chuuya pulls him as he stands. “Come ‘ere.”

Before they go to the couch, Chuuya takes them to the kitchen to finish heating up their food. Dazai thinks that’s why Chuuya is carrying him differently, but the thought doesn’t stick with him long. Sure, Dazai whined about it, but he easily wrapped his legs around Chuuya’s waist, and he still gets to hide his face in his neck. He needs extra support when he can’t wrap both arms over Chuuya’s shoulders, but someone needs to hold the bunny, and Chuuya said for him to give her a big hug.

Not able to doze off, he keeps his eyes closed instead. His thoughts are moving too fast for him to catch up with, so eventually he stops trying to think about where Chuuya is taking him. He just makes sure he holds on tight, so Chuuya will know he doesn't want to be put down.

Whenever he hears the distant and irritating beeping of the microwave, his head starts to hurt so bad. He just wants to sleep. Like this morning, it was so nice. He’ll take what he can get though, asking for more when Chuuya is already babying him isn’t realistic.

The beeping was back, and he’s boohooing about it into Chuuya’s shoulder. He’s being so annoying, trying to squirm away from the noise while whining. It must be difficult to hold him, but Chuuya patiently bounces and shushes him the whole time.

”All done. You got your bunny nice and tight still?”

Giving her a big squeeze to check, he mumbles, ”Yea.”

How Chuuya managed to carry him in one arm, and two hot bowls with the other, Dazai will never know.

”We’re gonna sit together on the couch now,” Chuuya speaks so softly that Dazai thinks it means he’s about to let go of him.

Before he knows it, they’re sitting down, and Chuuya is already rearranging his legs. Between the Chuuya and the arm of the couch is the best place to be wedged if Chuuya wasn’t going to let him sit directly in his lap. It’s still nice because Chuuya is holding one of his hands, thumb sweeping over his knuckles.

They are close enough that Dazai isn’t afraid Chuuya is going anywhere. Nevertheless, he is still absolutely pathetic like this, and he can feel himself doing something close to whimper. Breathing is hard. Specifically when he can’t have his face buried in Chuuya’s neck.

”I know,” Chuuya soothes, “You’re really tired, huh?”

That’s a good way to put it.

”We’re gonna eat some, and then sleepy time.”

Dazai was shaking his head. He’s not hungry and he’s not tired, he just wants Chuuya. He’s trying to make that known, but Chuuya doesn’t let him move too much.

”Try just a few bites for me, Sweetheart. Then we can cuddle.”

He can’t believe Chuuya could say stuff like that, Dazai felt his own face getting warm, but fine. If Chuuya wanted him to try, he could. So, he gave a small nod and went for the bowl he saw Chuuya set on the coffee table.

”Woah, woah, hold on,” Chuuya steadied him by his arm when he started reaching too far off the couch. “Here, I’ll grab it. We’ll eat together.”

Sitting back to pout, he made sure to tug on Chuuya’s shirt so he didn’t go too far. He’s reaching for Chuuya’s hand again to get the food so he can eat and be done with it, but there’s only one bowl.

”Let’s fix your bunny’s covers? He’s all squished in there.”

”She doesn’…” he let out a low sound, unable to explain it to Chuuya. Even if it looked painful, it wasn’t. The bunny was comfortable wrapped in his blanket. She didn’t want to move.

Dazai made sure to hold on tight to his bunny when Chuuya reached out. In case Chuuya tried something, Dazai was already whining about it. But, Chuuya was only shushing him and petting his hair.

”I’m not going to take her away, Baby. She just can’t sit in your lap while we are eating.”

”Chuu,” he drew it out long and low. “Yes.”

”No, she can’t, Sweetheart. You don’t want her to get dirty, right?”

Something dropped in his tummy, and it took away any hope there was of him stomaching some food. Fracturing at the connotations of his stuff getting dirty, he throws himself against the back of the couch. She should already be dirty and in the garbage, he didn’t want Chuuya to clean his stuff anymore. He brought this upon himself, so he’s not sure why hearing it upset him so much. “Not hun’ry.”

”Mm, that’s okay. But have you eaten anything today?”

No, he hasn’t, he shakes his head. His tummy does hurt, but that’s not why.

”Three bites, then you can be all done.”

Dazai squeezed his bunny, and shut his eyes just as tight. He didn’t want to cry again, but three bites was just too much. Crying so much today made his head hurt in all kinds of ways. His tummy hurt all day too, and eating won’t help.

Having Chuuya pet his hair again didn’t help either, but Dazai let him keep doing it. The warm hand on his face felt nice too, so he leaned into it.

”Look,” Chuuya patted the couch, “your bunny can sit next to you while you eat, and you can grab her when you’re full.”

When his eyes started to unfocus, Chuuya’s thumb rubbed his cheek. After a sorrowful sigh, he handed Chuuya the bunny. With a quick thank you, Chuuya was putting his bunny almost behind him. Then he tucked her in with the blanket.

Anything to get her out of the line of fire without making Dazai scream.

Did Chuuya still think that him spilling food on his blanket the first time was an accident?

It’s almost funny. Something like that. As he’s giggling about it though, his throat hitches and he wants to cry. It comes out in a small hiccup.

Before Dazai can spin out of control, Chuuya is talking. “Baby, here.”

The TV flicks on. “Let’s watch something while we eat. Can you help me choose?”

”Last time,” he whispers.

”Yeah, we did watch a movie last time.”

”No,” he points to the TV. “Last time,” he enunciates because Chuuya is too stupid to understand.

”Ponyo?”

”That.”

”You want to watch it again?”

Frustrated, he nods.

Chuuya searches for the movie very slowly, and takes forever rewinding it. While they wait, he asks, “You liked this one?”

No, he didn’t get to watch it at all, and he really wanted to. He humphs at Chuuya, but seeing it start, he remembers liking bits and pieces. Ultimately he hadn’t been paying attention last time, but seeing all the pretty jellyfish bump around the screen reminds him why he wanted to restart it so badly.

He’s going to make sure he watches the whole thing this time. So, he tries to get comfy in a way that won’t make him fall asleep. If Chuuya isn’t going to let him hold his stuff, he’s going to keep his knees tucked up against his chest. When his fingers start to get nervous about his stuff being so far, it’s easy to run them over the pajama pants. Three bites was the deal though, he can take them quick if that means he gets his bunny and blanket back.

Reaching for the bowl, Chuuya shakes his head. Then, he brings a scoop of food to Dazai’s mouth. He lets Chuuya feed him, but he grumbles about it.

The food doesn’t sit nicely in his tummy, but it doesn’t immediately come back up either. Dazai counts it as a win, but he really doesn’t want more. He’s full.

”Dazai, Baby, look. What’s she doing?”

Eyes wide, his attention immediately darts over to the TV. The little girl is poking her head out of a boat’s window, and swimming around.

”Hey, Mackerel, she’s a little fish. Just like you.”

Before Dazai can even open his mouth to shout at Chuuya, there’s another bite of food being shoved at him.

Around the middle of the movie, he shakes his head and pushes the food away. Chuuya had given him a lot more than three bites, he realizes. His tummy twists, he must be too full. When he looks over to see how much Chuuya had fed him, the bowl is already tipped so he can’t see inside it.

”You ate until you were full, and that’s enough.” He gets a kiss on the side of his head, before he’s reminded, “Where’s your bunny?”

After that, Dazai remembers flashes of what happens in the movie. When it nears the end, it's nothing short of a miracle that his eyes are open. Somewhere along the way Chuuya had pulled him close, making it way too easy to rest his head on his chest. He’s glad Chuuya’s heartbeat is normal now. Hearing it race earlier only made him feel horrible, but now Dazai can press his ear close again to get lost in it.

”’M not,” he pushes Chuuya’s arms away.

”You don’t have to be sleepy to lay in bed. Let’s go cuddle there, okay? I think your bunny wants to come too.”

”With you,” he cries miserably, now gripping as hard as he can at Chuuya’s shirt sleeves to pull him back.

”Of course with me,” Chuuya is prying his fingers off, and trying to give him back his bunny that had fallen a moment ago. “I’m not gonna leave you alone anymore, Sweetheart.”

Dazai could only blink at him, blink away anything that welled up in his eyes.

”Chuuya’s not tired though.”

Dazai tripped over his tongue, but he doubts it’s as noticeable as earlier.

”Baby,” Chuuya coos.

Dazai is, as always, worse than he could ever imagine.

”I’m very tired. But even if I’m not, and you’re ready for bed, I won’t leave you alone.”

Even it if hearing that made his tummy flutter instead of knot, he still worried. “Tired?"

Dazai really, really doesn't want Chuuya to be tried. The more Dazai makes him tired, the higher the chances Chuuya is going to realize he’s tired of him. He said he wouldn’t leave him alone, but that can change very fast.

”Not because of you,” Chuuya is quick to cut into his thoughts, but Dazai knows better.

There’s always something that Dazai has done, or at the very least contributed to.

”Ane-san kicked my butt at training today.”

”Chuuya’s hurt.” It’s hard to even mutter the words, but he’s already reaching for Chuuya to see where.

”Not badly,” Chuuya catches him under his arms, and starts to pull him up off the couch. “I’m okay, slow down.”

”No—“

”I’ll let you fix it, does that sound good?”

Dazai hugs Chuuya as tight as he can to make him feel better until he can take care of him properly, and nods.

”I have those small sticky bandages in my room. Let’s go get those. Up?”

Chuuya scoops him up when he reaches to be carried. “Don’t forget your bunny and blankie on the couch.”

They make it to Chuuya’s bed after a small detour to grab the bandages. They painstakingly brushed their teeth together too while they were in the bathroom, but he would rather not talk about that. At least no one had to change out of wet clothes.

Only when Dazai gets upset that Chuuya is still in work clothes does he change into his own pajamas. Then he has to let Dazai rub his bruises until they’re soothed, and crookedly stick bandages over all the scratches and scrapes on him. None of them particularly hurt, but those clumsy hands are gentle as ever. There is a few larger ones that Dazai very carefully cleans with a cloth, but after many assurances that they are all better because of the bandages, Dazai moves on.

”I feel better now, thank you, Sweetheart. Now come ‘ere,” Chuuya pulls him close as he wraps them in the new blanket that somehow made it to Chuuya’s bed. He slips Dazai’s bunny and blanket between them too.