"Wait-you're bleeding." 1096 words prompt fill from this. feel free to send something in!
Dazai shows up at his door looking like heâs had a run in with death, and despite the panic rising up his throat, Chuuya almost wants to congratulate him.
âWhat the fuck,â he says instead, opening the door wider. Dazai hovers in his doorway as he tries to step forward, but his clothes are torn in multiple places and his face covered in bruises. Heâs holding his stomach where Chuuya can see blood soaked through his clothes, dripping down on the expensive carpeting. âWaitâyouâre bleeding.â
Dazai laughs at that, obnoxious as always, breathy from the toll his injuries are taking on his body. His step falters and Chuuya reaches out to steady him, dragging him inside and kicking the door behind them.
âExplain,â he says, once Dazai is seated on the living room couch. The wound looks pretty bad, though he canât see it quite as well from this angle. Thereâs so much blood, he almost feels paralyzed by the sight of it. âNo, nevermind. Donât talk. Stay here.â
He runs off to the bedroom. He has first aid here somewhere - antiseptic, bandages from the last time Dazai came over. Gauze? No, heâll have to use an old T-shirt to stop the bleedingâmaybe the one he wears to bed? Itâs been washed recently.Â
What the fuck has that asshole been doing?!
When he returns to the living room, Dazai is trying to get his coat off with one hand, the other still pressed down on his stomach. Chuuya steps forward to help, ignoring the way Dazai startles as he slams the first aid box on the coffee table, or the way he winces as Chuuya pulls his clothes off.Â
Maybe heâs being too harsh considering Dazai is injured, but heâs in a hurry - he needs to stop the bleeding, he needs to bring color back to Dazaiâs pale face. The coat and bandages are also covered in blood, and the metallic tinge is making Chuuya feel dizzy. They fall to the ground and bare bloodied skin alongside all the scars Chuuya was already well-acquainted with.
âI had a run-in with some of my enemies,â Dazai says by way of explanation, and Chuuya hadnât asked but he scoffs, despite himself.Â
âOf course, you did. One in five people are your enemies.â He kneels down on the floor between Dazaiâs legs, and this time, his hands are gentle. He moves Dazaiâs out of the way so he can get a better look at the wound.
It's a knifeâa slash across the stomach, not deep enough to damage any organs, but enough to make him lose blood faster than is safe.Â
Chuuya isnât an expert in first-aid. On the rare occasion he has a severe injury, the infirmary at the mafia headquarters is good enough to do the job. But Dazai is bleeding out onto his couch, and no matter how many times Chuuya wished for him to fuck off and die, it feels all too real when his hands are stained with blood and heâs got front row seats to Dazai clinging to life in a way he wouldnât expect from someone who has always just wanted to die.
Focus. He has to focus.
âDoesnât the Agency have a doctor?â Chuuya forces his voice to stay stable as he presses the T-shirt to Dazaiâs skin. Itâs a white shirt, and it colors in an instant. Dazai winces at the pressure and his fists clench on his sides.Â
âYosano-sanâs ability wouldnât work on me.â
âNot her ability. She went to med school, didnât she?â
âYes, wellâŚâ Dazai starts, trails off. Heâs breathing hard now, leaning back on the couch and looking down at Chuuya through lidded eyes. His face is still pale, lips white. His hair is sweaty, matted to his forehead. âYour place was closest.â
âWhat if I wasnât here?âÂ
The bleeding may be slowing down, he thinks. The T-shirt is drenched, so he swaps it out with another one, tossing the bloodied cloth onto the floor. Heâs not good at thisâDazaiâs close to passing out and that would be bad news. The panic from earlier that heâd swallowed is rising back up his throat like bile, burning in his chest.Â
What can he do? Why hadnât he taken first aid? What kind of executive is he? The mafia has always valued the lives of their own, yet here he is, letting his partner bleed to death in his own home.
No, Dazaiâs not his partner anymore. Dazaiâs not part of them anymore. And Dazai is at fault for that too. ButâŚ
âYouâre here when I need you to be,â Dazai says, and even like this: barely conscious, toeing the line between life and death and suffering from all the pain he hates so much, he gives Chuuya one of his detestable grins. âI came here because I trusted you.â
Chuuya grits his teeth. He takes Dazaiâs hand and presses it on the T-shirt. âKeep that there,â he instructs, and gets himself busy with cotton and disinfectant. Dazai obeys, but thereâs only so much energy left in his body, so Chuuya has to hurry.Â
He wipes the skin around the wound, ignoring the way Dazai jerks at the stingâfeeling some kind of strange satisfaction in it. A response, a reaction to pain, an indicator that the asshole is still alive, still kicking, still around to make Chuuyaâs life hell.
By the time heâs wrapping bandages around Dazaiâs stomach, Dazai is lying limp on the sofa; not saying much, which is a welcome change though Chuuya wishes it were in less life-threatening circumstances. Still watching him. He almost feels self-conscious
Despite his reservations, Chuuya had called the Agency. Thereâs no more bleeding and Dazaiâs life is no longer in danger, so Chuuya had snapped at him to get proper medical attention.
âYou really know how to suck a person dry, donât you,â he says. Dazai has the audacity to waggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and huff out a laugh, wincing at the pain immediately after.
Chuuya can only laugh.
âYour guys are coming to get you,â he says, picking up the first aid supplies and Dazaiâs bloodied clothes. âI shouldâve just kicked you out and left you to die.â
âBut you didnât, did you?â
Chuuya pauses. He wants to kick the asshole, wipe that smile right off his face. Dazai is lying thereâ docile, helpless, passive. Chuuya has never needed his ability to overpower him, and heâs a sitting duck like this, served to Chuuya on a platter.Â
Rolling his eyes, he turns away. âI guess I didnât.â














