#exilerambles

Dazai somehow getting ahold of this weird Chuuya doll and starting to poke around it. He notices Chuuya getting red from across the room.

He realizes that everything and everywhere he touches on the doll is connected to Chuuya.

Anon.

Anon what the fuck.

You want me to write this?

WHY??????

I refuse.

I absolutely REFUSE to write something that freaky.

Dazai had picked up the doll at some creepy shop downtown.

Impulse purchase.

Besides, no one could really blame him. It was cheap, had a little keychain ring, and looked EXACTLY like Chibi!

So when he saw it in the window, he obviously went to buy it.

The shop keeper said some warning about not hurting the doll, or the ones you trust will be hurt, and blah, blah, blah, Dazai tuned her out and purchased the doll for like 500 yen.

And it was quite fun to play with.

Spinning it around over and over and over again on the key ring, tossing it up and down and up and down, even stabbing it with a fork a few times.

Or occasionally leaving it at the agency in random places, purely by accident, one time in the fridge, another time next to the heater, another time on that wet section of his desk where he always leaves his water bottle and it never seems to dry.

Eh, it wasn't like this doll was actually Chibi or anything.

No harm in having a bit of fun!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ---- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Chuuya was having a shit week.

No. Worse than a shit week.

It was going fine, great even, on Monday!

Then on Tuesday he started getting the worse vertigo and nausea, as if on some roller coaster ride that never ended, feeling like he was going up and down or being swung around like a rag doll.

He'd thrown upa few times too, and had actually forced placed on sick leave by Mori, who didn't want his best executive sick suffering from some disease or illness no one knew how to identify.

The worst parts were Thursday, Friday and Saturday though.

Thursday, no matter how many blankets he piled onto himself, his breath misted, his lips turning blue from the cold, fingers and toes going numb.

It didn't matter how much he cranked the heat, or how warm he should be feeling.

All he could feel was bitter, numbing cold.

Then came Friday morning and he felt as if something warm was curling around him, like some giant hand that was his saving grace.

It was perfect for a few hours.

No spinning, no tossing, no awful cold. Chuuya wanted to cry from relief. He did, actually.

Tossed off the heavy winter clothes and let himself be for just a few hours.

And then the heat got worse. And worse. And worse.

And suddenly he wasn't wearing anything as lay down in an ice bath, praying to whatever being was torturing him that this would just stop.

Fans were plugged into nearly every outlet of the bathroom.

The water was running at 40 degrees farenheight.

He'd used his ability to pour three entire bags of ice into the water.

And yet, there was no relief. None. The heat continued through the night as Chuuya tossed and turned on a bare mattress, unwilling to wear any more potential warmth, unable to sleep, sweat pouring off of his body, face turning red.

Then, once more, on Saturday morning, the heat stopped as he felt something cooler curling around him, and he wept from relief once again, praying that this absolute torture would be over.

And yet again, once night came, the torture came again.

This time, it wasn't hot or cold.

It was wet.

No matter how much he scrubbed himself dry, he always felt... wet. Damp.

His body was raw from doing so by midnight, but the sensation of a thin layer of water nearly everywhere on his skin was driving him mad.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ---- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dazai discovered the result of playing with his doll, once again, by accident.

He was clutching the doll tightly in his fist, as he'd begun doing to relieve a small amount of stress, at some random meeting between the ADA and Port Mafia, which had become a normal occurrence during this truce.

And then he noticed Chuuya.

Chuuya, who was slowly going blue in the face the more and more Dazai squeezed the doll, as if he couldn't breathe.

Chuuya, who, the moment Dazai released the doll from his grip, seemed to be able to clearly breathe again.

Chuuya, who, when Dazai began spinning the doll by the keyring, clutched his head and groaned softly, as if getting a headache and biting the corner of his lip in the telltale sign that Dazai knew from working years with the Chibi meant Chuuya was getting nauseous.

Chuuya, who, the moment he saw the doll in Dazai's hand, saw the brunette squeeze it and not being able to breathe, who knew in no logical universe was that a coincidence, saw fucking red.

Eh? EHHH??? Not what you were expecting??? Well, Chuuya is my FAVORITE character to torture, and YEAHHHH, this could get freaky. But also... I don't want it to be. <3

What do you get an eldritch being for its body's birthday?

Word Count: IDK.

Chuuya was in a perdicament. Mostly because of one individual. One stupid, bandage covered, body stealing, god talking to, individual.

Dazai, obviously. Who else would he have been talking about?

Either way, Dazai was the source of Chuuya's predicament. Mainly because it was the bastard's birthday today.

And Chuuya had a problem. What they hell do you get for a creature like that? A creature that spoke to the god in your head, a creature that had clearly stolen the body of a human and left nothing, a creature who thought of you as a pet and nothing more?

And don't get him wrong, Chuuya still hated the dead eyed bastard, but... he should at least get him something for his birthday, right?

And it would probably shut Aharabaki up about needing to play nice with nothingness, so once he got off work, Chuuya went shopping.

Which took hours.

Because, bringing him back to his first question, what do you get for something like that?

And he couldn't call his Ane-san or Mori-san, they always nodded and gave him that look adults give to kids when they're entertaining senseless rambling whenever he would try to talk about Dazai and how the bastard was a shell of a person, so that was out of the question. They'd basically learned to tune him out at this point the moment he brought up Dazai's name.

Maybe he could ask Hirotsu-san, since the old guy seemed to spend more time with the dead eyed bastard, but Hirotsu-san most likely wouldn't know either.

Aharabaki wanted, obviously, to get the mackerel a bunch of corpses and bodies. Chuuya was not doing that. Obviously. He was not going to indulge in Aharabaki's violence, especially not for the mackerel's birthday.

So Chuuya did something basic. Cake. Canned crab. Few rolls of those bandages Dazai seemed to like. And got some cheap decorations to decorate the dead eyed bastard's shipping container.

Once the decorations were put up Chuuya waited. And waited. And waited. And, well, it was nearly 10:45. He'd been up since 5 in the morning. It isn't his fault that he fell asleep.

Nor was it his fault when, after being poked awake and being nearly nose to nose with dead eyes that seemed to contain pure nothingness, he screamed.

And Dazai laughed. An actual laugh. Not the one he forced half the time when everyone else was laughing. An actual, startled laugh.

"My dog really needs to get better situational awareness."

"I'm not your dog, you dead eyed bastard!"

Dazai laughed again, going over to inspect the gifts that were laid out on the makeshift table, expression confused.

"What... are these for?"

Wait, that's actually really funny. Uhhhhh... you okay, anon?

Anygays!

When Mori entered Chuuya and Dazai's shared office space to instruct the boys that they would be working with each other from now on, he had expected a bit of pushback, of course.

The two were teenage boys and Chuuya seemed to despise Dazai, for some reason or another, to the point of trying to kill the brunette with attempts so frequent they bordered on concerning.

But then again, Dazai didn't seem to mind, even encouraging Chuuya's attempts at times, and they never succeded, so Mori always brushed it off and assumed the two would be fine.

He had not, however, expected Dazai's eyes to immediately light up the moment he told the boys they would be working together, latch onto Chuuya like a suckerfish, and for Chuuya to start screeching and trying to push the brunette off as if he was being burnt.

Mori blinked, having... very much not expected this outcome.

"Is this arrangement going to be a problem, Chuuya-kun?"

"No!"

"Are you comfortable working with Dazai-kun then?"

"Absolutely not!"

"I see. Chuuya-kun, are you-"

Mori's next question was forgotten as Chuuya began to attempt to kick Dazai off of him, the boy using his ability to propel himself onto the ceiling, hissing at Dazai like a feral creature, with the brunette simply laughing and bearing his teeth in a concerningly large grin in response.

It was at that moment Mori realized the nature of these two boys. They were like cats. Feral, territorial cats. And it would be nothing short of a damn miracle if he got them to work together without issue.

"Now, now, boys, its imperative that you both learn to work together."

Though his words clearly fell on deaf ears, given how Dazai was laughing as he clung onto Chuuya, the brunette's ability nullifying out the ginger's, leading to Chuuya holding on for dear life to the light fixture as he tried to kick Dazai off.

Mori sighed.

He would... talk to the boys about this later. Much later. Preferably after some alcohol.