Work Text:
One autumn morning, Kunikida noticed that Dazai hadn’t shown up for work. At first, he figured Dazai was just skipping again, but when the hours dragged on without any word, Kunikida started to worry. He knew Dazai too well; if he was planning to avoid work, he’d usually give some kind of ridiculous excuse to make Kunikida angry. Today, though, there was only silence.
After a few more calls went unanswered, Kunikida sighed and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Chuuya’s name. He had no one else to call—Chuuya, as much as he’d probably hate to admit it, was one of the few people Dazai might actually listen to.
“Oi, Nakahara,” Kunikida said once Chuuya picked up, “it’s about Dazai.”
“What’s he done this time?” Chuuya replied, his voice sharp, but Kunikida could hear the underlying concern.
“He hasn’t shown up to work, and he’s not answering his phone,” Kunikida explained, running a hand through his hair. “If he’s sick, there’s no way he’ll ask anyone here for help. Could you go check on him?”
Chuuya clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath about Dazai’s stubbornness. “Fine, I’ll go see if he’s alive.”
Chuuya arrived at Dazai’s apartment within the hour, stopping in front of the door and taking a deep breath before knocking. No response. He knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing. Irritation flared up, and he fumbled for the spare key Dazai had given him—though he’d never outright admit it, Dazai trusted Chuuya enough to give him a way inside. As he turned the key, he steeled himself for whatever state Dazai might be in.
The sight that greeted him wasn’t one he’d been prepared for. Dazai was lying in bed, curled up under a thin blanket, looking pale and almost feverish. His face was flushed, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, but his breathing was shallow and unsteady.
Chuuya clicked his tongue again, louder this time. “Oi, dumbass, what do you think you’re doing ignoring everyone?”
Dazai cracked one eye open, his voice barely a whisper. “Chuuya… thought you’d be the last person to visit…”
“Yeah, well, Kunikida called me, and apparently you’re as much of an idiot with colds as you are with everything else.” He pulled a chair over beside the bed, sitting down with a frown. “How long have you been like this?”
Dazai shrugged weakly, feigning nonchalance. “Just a little under the weather, nothing to worry about.”
“That’s a load of crap, Dazai.” Chuuya sighed, watching him struggle to even keep his eyes open. “You’re sick. You should’ve told someone instead of hiding away in this dump.”
Dazai huffed a weak laugh. “Didn’t want to bother anyone… especially you.”
“Well, too bad. I’m here now, and you’re going to listen,” Chuuya muttered, grabbing a cloth from the bathroom and soaking it in cold water. He came back and pressed it gently against Dazai’s forehead, his expression softening despite his harsh words. Dazai’s eyes drifted shut as the cold eased some of his fever.
“I hate being like this,” Dazai mumbled. “Feels… weak.”
“Everyone gets sick sometimes, you idiot,” Chuuya replied, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine all the time.”
Dazai let out a small sigh, his voice barely a murmur. “But... it’s easier that way. I hate people seeing me like this.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, though he kept his tone gentle. “You’re so full of it, Dazai. Pretending everything’s fine doesn’t make you any stronger. It just makes you an idiot.” He ran the damp cloth over Dazai’s face, wiping away the sweat that had gathered.
Dazai gave a faint smile, his eyes barely open. “Well, I guess I’m your idiot now, huh?”
Chuuya snorted, trying to ignore the slight flutter in his chest. “Just rest, you moron. I’m only here because Kuniki-idiot forced me to check on you.”
But his hands were gentle as he adjusted the blanket, making sure Dazai was comfortable. For a while, he just sat there, watching Dazai’s chest rise and fall with each unsteady breath.
As the fever started to subside, Dazai blinked his eyes open, looking at Chuuya with a soft, grateful expression. “Thank you, Chuuya. Really.”
Chuuya shifted, feeling heat rise to his face. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”
But even as he said it, he stayed by Dazai’s side, making sure he had everything he needed. Because even if he wouldn’t admit it, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.