Work Text:
Rain crashed softly against the exterior of the shipping container.
Dazai hadn’t been to work in almost a week, instead rotting inside this far from ideal container he calls his home.
Dangerous thoughts swarmed in the boy’s mind.
While still staring up to the ceiling of the container, he reached his arm over to the rusty blade sitting beside his mattress.
He sat up properly and leaned against the wall. He inspected it, not at all paying mind to the rusted and unsanitary state of the metal.
Hesitantly, he reached the blade up to the fragile skin coating his wrist.
Over and over he did it. Crimson pools formed on the ground. The sound of blood dripping was the only thing filling Dazai’s ears; it was silent enough to hear a pin drop.
Dazai stopped to inspect his work,
Angry red slashes covered his forearms, overlapping old raised scars; battles fought prior to his current situation.
The pain finally started to sink in.
‘Who could I go to right now…’
‘…Chuuya?’
The door to his shipping container whipped open suddenly.
There he stood, Chuuya Nakahara. His presence equal to that of an angel.
The ginger’s eyes wandered to the curled up man on the floor, and the pools of blood surrounding him.
His breath hitched.
“…Dazai..? W- What are-“
The brunette took all his energy to face his body the other way. He couldn’t face Chuuya right now.
Not like this.
Chuuya carefully approached his partner, as if a single wrong move would completely shatter him.
“Hey… um- Osamu…?”
He desperately searched around with his eyes to find what was wrong.
They landed on the brunette’s wounded arm.
Chuuya’s eyes widened at the sight.
“Osamu… What is… this?”
He delicately grabbed Dazai’s shoulders to turn him around, to get a better look at his face.
Dazai stared back at him with black eyes.
He barely look present, like every bit of remaining life had been sucked out of him dry.
In a state of panic, Chuuya looked around for anything at all to help stop the constant bleeding.
He grabbed a roll of bandages from a stash he found sitting in the corner of the container.
He hesitantly reached out to the brunette’s arm and started bandaging it.
His eyes stung with fresh tears. How could someone do this to themself…? Dazai no less…
“Chuu… you don’t have to do this for me.”
His voice was hoarse, having not used it in a good 2 weeks.
“Bullshit. If I don’t then who will..?”
“No one. I don’t need this. You should just let me bleed out and die.”
Chuuya glanced up from the arm in his grasp, only to be met with the crumpling face of his partner.
So much for Dazai “cant cry” Osamu.
“Dazai. I… I won’t let you die, not like this.”
The executive wasn’t convinced.
“You should.”
.
.
.
“Are you going to tell me what happened earlier, Dazai?”
Chuuya looked hopefully over at his partner, who retaliated with a soft grunt followed with a mumbled word of disagree.
Chuuya sighed. Seems this is a conversation for another day.
~~~