Dazai was startled awake by a flurry of movement next to him. Alarmed, he sat up, instinctively reaching over his, for some reason, thrashing husband to turn the bedside lamp on. Before he could flick the switch, Kunikida gave a sharp, pitchy inhale, and threw a hand against Dazai’s chest. Dazai was shoved off of the bed, landing awkwardly on his side and banging his wrist on the bedframe. Disoriented and confused, Dazai stumbled to his feet and groped along the wall for the actual light switch. He flailed around blindly for a moment, then succeeded. As the room was flooded in light, Dazai squinted, momentarily blinded as he peered at Kunikida with concern. 

The blonde man had himself curled up, back pressed flat to the headboard and knees held against his rapidly rising and falling chest by trembling arms. His eyes were wide and panicked, and he was shaking. Understanding dawned on Dazai, and his somewhat annoyed expression softened drastically. 

“Doppo,” he called softly, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender as one would do toward an injured animal to extract a thorn from its paw. “Sweetheart.” 

Kunikida just shook his head, burying in in his arms as he trembled. His breathing hitched again, hiccupping, and Dazai tried to think of a way to help. Clearly touch wouldn’t be of any help here, if anything it would likely make the situation worse. Dazai’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at the way Kunikida was behaving; the man was usually so big and strong, and now he was crying in bed without any source of comfort, trapped in whatever hellscape his mind was at the moment. 

“Doppo,” Dazai tried again, trying to keep his own panic out of his voice and instead speak gently, soothingly. “Hey, baby boy, can you look at me?” It took a moment and a few more coaxing words before Kunikida slowly raised his head, tear tracks trailing from his reddened eyes, and Dazai smiled softly at the man. “There you are. You’re safe, okay? It’s just me. I would never hurt you.” 

Kunikida stared at him for a few moments, seeming to slowly register that what Dazai had said was true. His breathing started to even out and he blinked, looking disoriented. 

“Osamu?” the man murmured, sniffly softly. Dazai nodded, still on the other side of the room, and Kunikida loosened his grip on his legs in favor of reaching a hand out to him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, once he was situated against Dazai’s chest and breathing normally. Dazai shushed him gently, running his fingers through the long blonde hair. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he replied, and Kunikida huffed. 

“I pushed you off the bed.” 

Dazai blinked, remembering, then laughed softly. “You did do that. I’ll live, though. Was it a nightmare again?” he asked, changing the subject, mildly concerned when Kunikida shook his head. The man shifted into a more upright position, tucking his head underneath Dazai’s chin. 

“I think I might have been dreaming,” he elaborated. “It’s hazy though. I don’t really know what happened. One moment I was cuddling closer to my husband to fall back asleep, and then suddenly I was in a stranger’s bed with a hangover and…” Kunikida trailed off, swallowing uncomfortably, and Dazai shushed him again. 

“You’re safe,” he simply said again, pressing a kiss to the crown of Kunikida’s head, right where his hair swirled. Kunikida relaxed into his hold, melting against the contour of his husband’s body with a soft little exhale, like a contented cat. 

“I love you, Osamu,” Kunikida told him, voice nearly inaudible. Dazai smiled and closed his eyes.