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"Chuu-ya!!" Dazai called brightly, bouncing up to the ginger boy and looping an arm in his. "I thought I lost you there!"
"That was the aim…" Chuuya growled. He didn't pull away, letting Dazai steer him away from that street.
Dazai lowered his voice once they were far enough away. "Don't go that way."
"I can handle myself-"
"It's not worth it." He didn't offer more context.
Chuuya huffed, exasperated. "How am I meant to get to the damn apartment, then?"
Chuuya, now an official Port Mafia member, needed someplace to stay. Mori had given him a key to one of the rooms in the Mafia-owned district. Dazai knew for sure that building wasn't safe, though.
"No, no. You're staying with me!"
"Like hell I am!" Chuuya pulled away. Dazai held on like glue. "Let go, asshole!"
"Chuuya." Dazai caught his face, gentle. He could see Chuuya wasn't sure how safe he was. "Trust me. You don't want to go down there. They'll snatch you right up, okay? I'd only be relatively safe because I'm high up, no one with half a brain would touch me. You've got nothing going for you except me."
"Let go, bastard…" He pulled back weakly, but reached for Dazai's sleeve, his other hand holding his bag. "How bad are we talking?"
"The type who sees someone young and drags them off to a dark corner. All sorts of bad. Don't risk it."
"Okay…"
Chuuya was firmly sure he could take care of himself. He wasn't scared of some back street. Dazai was, though, and that scared him.
He stuck close after that, following him through the streets to the port. Chuuya was wondering where they'd keep a house out here, until Dazai unlocked the padlock on a big, rectangular shipping container.
"…What the fuck, Dazai? Are you kidding?"
Dazai blinked at him. "Uh, no. This is where I live."
Chuuya guessed a hunk of metal in a ship yard was better than being dragged off by a bunch of criminals. He sighed, following Dazai inside.
There was a mattress on the floor, a couple books piled by the bed, a rusted space heater, and a desk. It was so… Empty. Even his little room with the Sheep, he'd decorated as much as he could. Movie posters, trinkets he'd found, pictures drawn by the younger members. Things that made him feel more human. He wouldn't treat a dog like this.
Dazai shook out his blankets, brushing some crumbs off the mattress. No top sheet.
"For tonight, we'll both fit. There's a porta-potty outside, by that big shed. It's better not to go alone at night, but y'know."
"I am not sharing a bed with you," he hissed.
"Awww, c'mon! You'll freeze on the floor. I'm not that bad, Chuu-ya!" Dazai cried.
"It's Chuuya. Not 'Chuu-ya'. It's one word."
Dazai hummed. "I don't hear a difference."
"Whatever…" He sat down, bag on his lap. There were no rooms, no doors. "Where do I get changed?"
"In here."
"But you're in here."
Dazai blinked at him. He looked so clueless, all the time. It was almost funny.
"Oh. I am. I didn't take you for the shy type, Chuu-ya!"
It wasn't that he's shy. If he was a boy under his jacket and baggy jeans, he'd be fine changing in front of stupid Dazai.
"Turn around, at least…"
"Mhm!" Dazai shuffled to face the wall.
Chuuya sighed. This was never going to work. He couldn't sleep with the binder on without hurting himself, and he couldn't sleep without because there was one mattress and Dazai would find out. If the Mafia kicked him out over this, he'd have no one, nowhere to go. He'd be as good as dead.
Gingerly, he changed, shoving the binder to the bottom of his bag. He'd be found out sooner or later, anyway. He pulled a hoodie on over his t-shirt - it was cold enough to be warrant extra layers, anyway.
Dazai was changed by the time Chuuya was done. He checked a couple paper bags, sniffing each one, and eventually found one that passed his test. He scooted over to Chuuya.
"Dinner!"
Chuuya looked at the pastry. He had no way of telling how long it'd been in here. He was starved, though.
"It's your fault if I get food poisoning…" he said, taking half and letting Dazai eat the rest.
"If we both get sick and die, do you think that counts as double suicide?" Dazai asked, popping it into his mouth.
"It's murder-suicide. I'm not looking to die just yet."
"Aw."
The night went fine. Dazai fussed a lot, but Chuuya couldn't say he didn't, either. It was warm enough with the two of them in the bed, and the heater going.
He woke up first, and got dressed before Dazai snuffled himself awake. He picked through the bakery bags, but couldn't find anything he could deem safe to eat.
Dazai mumbled to himself, rubbing at his eyes. "You're up early…"
"We start at eight."
"Nah, you're with me. We start when I get outta bed."
Chuuya shook his head. "Which is eight. Get up."
Dazai moaned and groaned for a while, dragging himself out from under the blankets, before looking at his dingy calender. His eyes widened, almost comical shock and betrayal.
"We have today off!"
"I know." Chuuya replied calmly.
Dazai turned to him, still full of emotion. "You made me get out of bed… early… for nothing!?"
"Yeah."
"Worst roommate ever! I hate you!" he cried, diving for his blankets.
"I… Don't care." He pulled Dazai back up, towards the door. "We're going shopping. This place is unlivable."
Dazai moped for a good half hour, until Chuuya pickpocketed some guy for loose change and bought him an ice-cream. He was more cheery after that.
Chuuya didn't have money, so he swiped Dazai's card. Dazai didn't really care. He bought essentials - clean blankets and sheets, more clothes, actual food that'd last them a while, and anything else they might need. Dazai complained about having to carry it all.
Chuuya caught himself in a reflection. His hair had grown out, since he'd cut it near to a buzz. He didn't know what happened before his memories started, but he'd had matted hair reaching halfway down his back. The first thing he remembered doing was finding scissors and getting rid of it all. It was a bit nicer now, still comfortably short, but he didn't look abused any more.
Dazai stopped by his side, watching as well. Taller. Chuuya hated that.
"Hurry up," he growled, pulling Dazai by the hand.
Two weeks passed, and Chuuya got more comfortable. He was still careful about changing, and hiding his chest when he wasn't binding. Dazai didn't really care what he did, though.
He came back inside from walking by the water, and found Dazai laying on the bed, shirtless. Mostly shirtless. He was wrapped in bandages, and wearing… A binder? That didn't make sense. Dazai was-
"Should I have knocked…?" Chuuya asked, wavering at the door.
Dazai glanced back at him with a shrug. He didn't seem to care.
Chuuya slowly came to sit. It was - had to be - a binder. Better quality than his, he noted bitterly.
"You're trans?" Chuuya asked quietly.
"Huh? Oh, right. Didn't I tell you?"
"Uh… No."
"Oopsie. Could've sworn I did…"
That was just like Dazai. The idiot. "…You're not lying?"
"Nope. Want proof?" He went to take the binder off, no hesitation.
"No!" He pulled Dazai's hands back. "Fuck, no. Don't do that."
Dazai shrugged. "Okay."
Chuuya slowly laid down next to him.
"…You don't care that I know?"
"No. I trust ya." Dazai took his hand. "Got any big secrets for me?"
Chuuya stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. They'd both stuck them up to add some life to the place. Dazai had weird nights, stuck staring at nothing. Chuuya thought stars might help him a bit.
"…Same as you."
There was silence for a moment. Then Dazai looked at him, blinked, and broke out in a smile.
"Really?"
Chuuya sighed. He sat up and tugged his shirt off, now in just his binder.
Dazai grinned, sitting up and hugging Chuuya tight. Chuuya would've preferred being fully clothed for a hug, but it was one of the few times he could say Dazai looked happy. He allowed it, patting Dazai's head lightly.
"Okay, back off… You smell…"
"Nuh uh." Dazai buried his head in Chuuya's neck.
Chuuya cringed, a faint memory of rough hands and pinprick pain flashing through his mind. He gently pushed Dazai's face away. Dazai didn't fight it, happy to put his head somewhere else. So damn cuddly all of a sudden.
"What's got into you…"
"You're like me!" He snuggled into Chuuya. "We're besties now."
"...Ew."
He felt safer, though.
Dazai was shirtless, binder abandoned on the washing pile, while he waited for his hair to dry. Chuuya had to wrestle him into the shower (he'd snagged the key to the port showers from a worker - he didn't want to know what Dazai did to get clean before).
Chuuya had got used to the nudity. Dazai didn't seem to have much sense of decency, but Chuuya found he didn't care. It felt so normal, after a lifetime of feeling abnormal. It was nice.
Dazai had eased him into dancing around the room in just their underwear, and they'd laugh and it was comfortable. Chuuya, for the first time he could remember, wasn't just surviving. He was happy.
They both still had their bad days, of course. Dazai would come back home bleeding through his bandages, and Chuuya would have times after work where he couldn't do anything at all, and Dazai would have to sit and coax him to eat or move.
Tonight was okay. Work was fine, they'd met for lunch, and came home together. Chuuya dug through his bag for what he'd brought back for dinner.
"Dazai, food."
"'Kayyy." Dazai sat on his knees by Chuuya, taking half. He didn't always eat it, but Chuuya made sure he ate enough to not pass out at work. They ate in silence for a while.
~
Chuuya woke up cold. It was still too early, the clock blinking 2:46.
"Dazai?" Chuuya croaked. His voice right after waking up was worse than how he sounded normally.
"Here."
"Where…" Chuuya sat up, glaring around the room. Dazai waved from a corner. "What the fuck… Get back over here."
"Can't."
"Why?"
"I don't wanna make a mess."
"Why would you…" Chuuya sat up. "Dazai, what did you do?"
"I didn't mean to."
"What, your arm cut itself open?" Chuuya hissed, rushing to Dazai's side and taking his hand, looking over the wound down his wrist. "Fuck…"
"It's okay, Chuuya. I'm ready to go."
"I'm not ready for you to go, idiot!" His voice broke pathetically. He stuffed bandages into the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. "Call Mori."
"I don't want to-"
"Call Mori!" Chuuya snapped.
Dazai reluctantly conceded. Chuuya let out a shaky breath, feeling his eyes sting. Not the time.
"Fucking bastard…" Chuuya muttered.
Dazai held the phone out to him as Mori answered. Chuuya took it.
"Get over here…"
The next hour was a rush of movement, enough to make Chuuya feel nauseous. Mori drove over, barely even looking at Dazai's arm before bundling them both into the black car and taking them back to Mori's office. Then he'd taken Dazai, leaving Chuuya painfully alone in a chair to wait.
Chuuya stared at the blood on his hands. There was a bathroom across the hall. He didn't want to wash it off. What of it was the last piece of Dazai that the stupid mackerel ever gave him? Realistically, he knew he'd have to clean them eventually, but the thought was overwhelming.
It felt like days, sitting there. Back aching, mouth dry, the blood getting darker as time passed, flaking off whenever he flexed his hands. He wanted to cry, but it was like he couldn't move.
Elise found him, eventually. Knew he wouldn't talk, just took him by the bloodied sleeve and led him to one of the makeshift hospital rooms.
Dazai looked small. Chuuya didn't always realise, but they were still only fifteen. Not for this life.
Chuuya crawled onto the bed by him, pressing into his side. Dazai's good arm shifted to wrap around him, touching his curls.
"Sorry…"
"Shut up…" Chuuya whispered. He pressed his face into Dazai's gown. "Don't do that to me… Not ever again, okay…?"
Dazai didn't answer. Chuuya knew his suicidal ass couldn't keep the promise, even if he gave his word. He let out a shaky breath, willing himself not to cry like this, even if it was useless.
"You're all I have, Dazai… Fuck-" A broken sob escaped him. "Please…"
~
Dazai was more careful, after that. Took care of his cuts, tried so hard not to make more, just generally tried not to stress him out. Chuuya wasn't sure he'd broken down like that in front of him before.
Chuuya was on the mattress, curled around the switch they shared. Dazai came inside with pizza, delivered at the warehouse. He sat beside Chuuya, bandaged hand brushing his head before he spoke.
"Food."
"Mm." Chuuya sat up, scooting into the other boy. "How's your arm?"
"Better. I'm, uh, trying to keep it clean, like Mori told me. I don't want it to hurt anymore…"
"Good…" Chuuya took a slice of pizza. It was shitty, but it was easy and they didn't have to think. The bare minimum was better than starving. "…Did something happen? The night you…"
"Uh…" Dazai took some as well, even though Chuuya could tell he wasn't hungry. He rarely was. "I don't know. It's… You know, my head. When isn't it trying to kill me?"
"Nothing specific…?"
Dazai was quiet. He shrugged weakly. "Bad day… i felt like shit, and… my body is wrong… It got a bit much. I didn't mean to cause you trouble. That's now how I want to go out."
Chuuya didn't want Dazai to go out. Not… Not without him. Hell if he'd ever say it, though.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"Nothing new. Couple bruises. I tripped."
Chuuya laughed, short and dry. "'Course you did." A pause. "…Show me?"
"Wrist check time…?" Dazai asked tiredly, like that was something he'd had to do before.
Chuuya shook his head. "I don't care what you do, as long as you're taking care of it. I just want to see you, I guess…"
Dazai watched him, quiet. He nodded, pulling layers off. Chuuya, ignoring his reddening cheeks, did the same.
"You're not a skinny little shrimp anymore." Dazai noted, still dull.
Chuuya shifted to hug him, skin on bare skin, only the occasional bandages getting in between them.
"I have enough money to eat, now. And no one else to feed, except you." He traced a few old scars on Dazai's skin. "…When did you start?"
"Before I can remember." Dazai snuggled into him, curling his fingers into Chuuya's hair. It was warm, human. Chuuya ran his hands down Dazai's back, careful not to catch his nails on his textured skin.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
The silence of unspoken words enveloped them, safety and togetherness. They'd probably never tell each other what this meant to them.