♡

Waking up was awful.

A few minutes were needed for Dazai to remember how he crawled to Chuuya in his bed instead of laying in a comfortable one. Oh God, how did Kouyou let him do that?

The mobster moaned heavily when pain pierced his right side, and dropping his gaze, he noticed that his ribs were wrapped with clean bondages and his clothes were changed. Mori-san did his best.

"It's really heavy."

The hoarse voice made Osamu flinch. He then blinked amused, and raising his head, faced the tired look of his blue eyes.

"What are you even doing here, mackerel?"

Oh, he totally forgot about Nakahara. Dazai carefully sat up, noticing that he was laying on the red-haired, preventing him from breathing properly. Chuuya wanted to do the same, but he frowned because of the sharp pain and laid back down.

"The nightmare is kind of over, so why am I seeing your face, slug?"

"Look who's talking." He heard a displeased snorting in response. "My awakening could be better without you. What are you doing here?"

"Ay, ay, ay, ungrateful dog." Osamu shook his head dramatically. "By the way, I'm injured, too."

"I'll break your jaw, I swear to God," Chuuya spitted, gloomy, but he was too worn out to even move a finger. "And I meant what you were doing in my bed, idiot."

Chuuya raised himself on his elbows, leaning his back on the headboard, and looked at him. Dazai's shoulder awkwardly flinched when his partner raised his eyebrows, waiting. His gaze ran over Chuuya's neck, covered with bruises and wounds, his pale face, noting every scratch. Something nasty stirred inside of him, and Osamu realzied with disgust that it was guilt.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"You used Corruption because I told you so. I could've thought of another plan, but I didn't, and as a result, you ended up here." the brown-haired took a breath tiredly, his fingertip touching his nose, doubting, what exactly he was trying to hide—embarrassment or irritation. "I'm sorry."

"Your apologies won't change a thing, especially when you don't feel any regret, idiot," he said after a long pause, when Dazai wasn't even expecting an answer. He tilted his head back, outraged. "It's not the first time, and certainly not the last time. I'll still use Corruption, with or without you. It's the part of my ability. Therefore"—Chuuya carelessly shrugged and hissed in pain right away—"you don't have to apologize. God, it even sounds weird."

"Is it that hard to believe that I'm sorry? What's wrong with it?"

"You want me to remind you who you are?"

"Rude, Chuuya, Rude!"

He was really sorry. Of course, it was hard for Dazai to show emotions, but he could still admit his fault in this situation. And even if he could still apologize, he definitely couldn't admit that he was scared for Nakahara.

"I feel calmer every time you stop it." Osamu blinked, surprised, then flicked his gaze over his partner who threw his head back. His ribs ached from his tired look. "I mean, Corruption. Everything goes quiet in my head. So, these seconds compensate...for your mistake."

"You look wild when you use it," the red-haired thoughtfully spoke. The spontaneous sincerity amused him, usually, they went without words, but the atmosphere was alluringly calm. Dazai moved a bit closer. "But at the same time...free? I don't know."

Chuuya hummed something and closed his eyes, breaking eye contact. Dazai started to see red marks on his face, and he blinked, pushing away the unpleasant sight. His heart ached from the tired appearance of his partner, the brown-haired clearly saw how hard it was for him to breathe. Chuuya thrusted his fingers in his hair, moving the red strands back. And Dazai froze, his eyes catching the black mark on his wrist.

He saw it for the first time—he thought—and his lungs twisted with new strength.

Obeying the strange impulse, Osamu reached forward, grabbing his hand with a rough movement. His left hand. The mark was on his left hand.

Nakahara sharply lifted his head, scowlingly staring at him. His blue eyes darkened, and his body tensed immediately.

"Hey, asshole, what the...?"

Chuuya stopped talking abruptly when Osamu pulled his hand closer to his face. The red-haired flinched with surprise when that idiot brushed his nose over his wrist.

He still thought that soulmates was a stupid thing. It was too complicated, it was hard to understand and explain, so the only thing left was to shove everything on to the Universe, faith and something like that. Dazai couldn't. But still...

There was a person for him. And there was a person for whom he...was.

Chuuya was for him. He was for Chuuya.

There was a nagging feeling inside of him, his heart was suffocating because it was so right.

Osamu sighed barely audibly and raised his dark gaze. He met confused look in the blue eyes, gulping, and then his lips touched the mark. Unusually soft, almost unsure.

"Does it hurt?"

Quiet whisper pierced through the ringing silence. Osamu felt how his hand tensed in his palm, but didn't say anything, looking at his partner expectedly. Chuuya gazed at him with disbelief, trying to figure out what was on his mind. Even Dazai didn't know, to be honest, but he wasn't going to stop. Chuuya pressed his slips together.

"It hurts."

The brown-haired nodded, satisfied, and without letting go of his hand, laid on Nakahara, placing his head on his chest to hear how his heart was beating. Exactly what he wanted from the start.

Chuuya hissed, he was clearly uncomfortable, but Dazai didn't care.

"Good," he answered just as quietly, not taking his eyes off his wrist. His head was empty, and he didn't really want to analyze his reaction to the ordinary mark. "Mine, too."

After a few seconds, a tired sigh was heard, and then a warm hand was buried in his hair.

It was just calm.

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original by ddaaazai