Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

POSSIBLE SPOILERS AHEAD

Dazai Osamu —> TheEnigmaticFish —> Fish

Nakahara Chuuya —> CorruptedSorrow07 —> Tainted

Nakajima Atsushi —> SushiTheTiger —> Sushi

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke —> rashomon —> Rashomon

Yosano Akiko —> manic_medic —> Medic

Edogawa Ranpo —> brainiac —> Brainiac

Izumi Kyouka —> Atsushi’s cousin (not a streamer cause she’s canonically 14 so she will not be in a group of 18+ ppl who’re mostly in their 20s thank you very much that’s weird fuck you to all the older dspm members except philza)

Chapter Text

It had started small; just a recently escaped 18 year old, his 6 year old laptop, a small rented bedroom, and maybe one or two lurkers.

It was so much bigger now.

So big, in fact, that a month from now he would be guesting at VidCon.

Or, he was supposed to.

If only he could get to his PC to stream, then everything would be perfect. 

Osamu Dazai, or TheEnigmaticFish on the internet, was sitting at his desk for the first time in over a week, getting ready for a short stream to just answer questions on his whereabouts. Chuuya Nakahara, also known as CorruptedSorrow07, was beside him, not to be part of it (they were supposed to be rivals, not happily married and in the process of adopting a cute kitten), but as a precaution. 

Osamu had been in a full blown flare for nine days, and Chuuya had barely left his side; only to stream so they could pay rent, and make them both food.

Food that would leave Osamu’s stomach swirling and cramping for hours.

He felt pathetic as he leaned on his husband’s shoulder, eyes closed and unable to even lift his hand to press the start button. Usually he would use a face cam, but even just his grimace of pain wouldn’t allow that. There was also the fact that he hadn’t bathed for a week, so he looked horrible.

Once everything had been set up by Chuuya, the redhead asked as he gently rubbed his husband’s back, “Are you ready, ‘samu? Remember, you can still back out, and we can stop whenever. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to share.”

He simply nodded, opening his eyes to see his ocean themed “Starting Soon” screen as well as the title, reading ‘Where did Fish disappear to? Q&A’ just as Chuuya pressed start.

Concerned messages from 15,000 of his beloved guppies immediately flooded in, which was shocking as they hadn’t even made a tweet to advertise.

“Hello, my beloved courtiers!” Dazai said with as much energy as he could muster, “so, how’ve you been coping this past week without me?”

The entire chat seemed to notice his exhaustion as messages came in even faster. Dazai tasted stomach acid, his body already begging for him to stop.

Chuuya set the chat to slow-mo so he could actually read it.

CrabbyComedian: Are you ok???

SuperBubble333: Where have you been?

Thediscordkitten: OH MY GOD YOU ARENT DEAD

“Yeah, I’m fine guys, it’s nothing serious, I swear,” Chuuya gave him a look.

Ignoring it, Dazai picked out a message and read, “‘Does this mean you’re back to streaming?’ No, not yet, unfortunately. I won’t go into too much detail, but I’ve been a very dead fish since my last stream due to some pre-existing health issues, so I probably won’t be back for realzies until a while after VidCon.”

Osamu hoped nobody noticed the strain in his voice. “I’m only able to stream right now because my roomie is basically being my pillow.”

He felt Chuuya kiss his forehead.

The chat was filled with different variations of ‘All hail Fish’s roomie’, as well as even more words of concern, which he ignored.

There was a pause as Osamu took a few deep breath to quell the nausea. Talking was doing him no favours, and he really didn’t feel like throwing up on stream. He felt Chuuya’s arms wrap around him and was forever grateful for his husband’s presence at his side. Ignoring the stabbing in his joints was difficult, but he had to stay online for at least a few more minutes. 

Finding another question to answer, Dazai read “‘You sound tired, you should go sleep!’ Awww…. I thought I was hiding it well!” He let out an amused huff. “In all seriousness though, I’ve spent the last week in bed, so it should be okay.” 

Osamu could feel the blood pooling in his feet, depriving his brain of oxygen and making his head spin. He wanted his bed back so badly, but he tried to ignore it as message after message came in, and eventually the chat shifted entirely to the upcoming convention. The main question that seemed to need an answer was if he’d be there at all, and wasn’t that a question and a half? He’d known it’d be coming, but he still wasn’t prepared for the answer. He unintentionally let his facade of health drop further, allowing more pain and illness to seep through into his voice. “I’m not sure… I hope I can, but also it’s not really my choice. If my body decides to take pity on me, then I’ll be there, but right now I have no clue. I could also get there and then be taken out by travel. For now, let’s pray to all the deities for my continued success in convincing my roommate that I don’t need to go to the hospital and that it’s totally normal to randomly collapse whenever I’m upright.”

The last part was said with a bit more enthusiasm, and this time Chuuya couldn’t hold back his laugh. Based on the reaction of the chat, they had heard it too.

Dazai laughed as well, but it was noticeably weak. It drained him, and the chat seemed to notice. He tried to read the comments, but his dizziness wouldn’t let him. The words blurred together, and his vision was flooded with white dots, but he was able to make out a highlighted message.

⭐️Rashomon: Sushi says go back to sleep. He says you’re not reading his texts so this is the only way to yell at you.

With sigh, Osamu said “Tell him to text Chu, not me.”

Thediscordkitten: OMG ROOMMATE NAME REVEAL???

Dazai didn’t fully reply, just mumbling “Mhm! Chu’s my roomie. He’s here right now in case I have a crash.”

In actuality, Chuuya was there most of all so that Osamu got cuddles and emotional support, but the crashing thing was also true.

StickerLover: What’s a crash?

Pickles78: What does that even mean?

hellspawn666: Should you really be streaming if you’re that sick?

“Chat, I’m fine, I promise. It’s not anything big or scary, my energy just kinda disappears.”

Ironically, that was when it hit him, causing his words to slur apart. 

Osamu felt every morsel of his limited energy evaporate into thin air, forcing him to slump forward and bang his head against the desk. It caused his stomach to churn harder, and his head to pound. Through the white dots of his vision, he saw the message Chuuya typed as he continued rubbing his back.

TheEnigmaticFish: Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Bye Fish’s chat. Dw he’s fine, just floppy. I’m taking him back to bed.

- Chu

And suddenly, the stream was officially off and Osamu was being rocked back and forth against Chuuya’s chest like one would a small, sick child. His body was on fire, and he was positive that if he looked down then his feet would be purple. He wanted to sleep, but Chuuya’s phone rang with a million Twitter notifications.

This would be very annoying to deal with.

Right now, the notifications were simply turned off.

Chapter Text

As soon as the pc was fully off, Dazai felt himself being scooped up. He let his head fall into his husband’s chest, eyes slipping shut as he was carried back to their shared bedroom. The world spun awfully every time he moved in the slightest. It didn't take long to get back, seeing as the bedroom was directly beside Dazai’s office, but being placed in their bed as gently as he was felt  like a light at the end of the tunnel. He felt his body melt into the stacked memory foam pillows. There were three of them, all just to award him enough relief from the agony to fall into a still-restless slumber.  He pulled the four blankets up higher to block out the chills that attacked him as Chuuya passed him the water bottle from the bedside table. Osamu sipped from the straw, feeling it stir up his stomach as the redhead sat by his side and asked, “Will you eat a few crackers if I get them?”

The truth was, Osamu didn’t think he could handle anything at the moment, but he also knew from the tone of his voice that Chuuya wanted him to eat. He was nauseous, but it was the type that came with hunger, so why not?

It was the only hunger he knew how to feel.

It was the nausea that felt empty, when your stomach acid sits for too long, begging for something to do; not the type that causes your stomach to swell up into your throat. 

That sickness would come after.

The only issue was, although he would never admit it, Osamu really didn’t want to be left alone. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling this clingy, it was childish and besides, he was used to being sick. 

But the illness being chronic didn’t make it any easier to cope, and the ‘socializing’ had only made the issue even worse.

Chuuya seemed to sense his hesitation and gently brushed aside his hair. “What if I run?”

Osamu childishly hugged Chuuya’s waist and nuzzled into his stomach, not allowing the love of his life to leave. Feeling fingers gently scraping his scalp, he said, “Slug isn’t allowed to leave.”

Gentily, Chuuya said, “‘Mackerel, you need to eat… Will you let me go if I call Oda?”

Osamu didn’t respond, but they both knew the answer was probably yes.

The phone was placed on speaker as soon as the call button was pressed. It rang thrice before Oda responded and said, “Hello Nakahara. How is Dazai doing?”

Not even giving Chuuya a chance to open his mouth, Dazai whined pathetically, “Odasaku… Chuuya’s planning on abandoning me! You can’t let him get away with it.”

Huffing, Chuuya corrected him. “Hey Oda, sorry about that. And that’s what I wanted to ask you about, actually.”

“What's wrong? Do you need me to come over and help with anything? If so I’m 100% willing to cancel. It’s just a date night, it’s not that important, especially compared to whatever you need.”

Going back to scratching Dazai’s scalp, Chuuya said “No, that’s alright, thank you for offering though. I was just wondering if you’d be able to stay on the phone with the malnourished mackerel while I go get him some food. We did the stream just now and he’s feeling extra clingy. You’re the only person I could think of.”

“I can do that, no problem. I’m just getting ready to meet Ango, so I have some time.”

Chuuya hugged Osamu back, placing a kiss on his forehead before he asked, “Are you okay with that, ‘Samu?”

Even though the answer was yes, he didn’t want to respond. As soon as he responded, Chuuya would leave, and when Chuuya left then so did his cuddles. Dazai just whimpered. On the other end of the phone, Oda said “Dazai, you need to let Nakahara go. You really, really need to eat.”

With an extremely pathetic and dramatic whimper, Dazai let go of his husband. Not only that, but he also curled up in a ball and turned in the other direction, crossing his arms over his chest like a toddler. He felt tears begin to form, and his efforts to hold them back were thwarted as soon as he felt Chuuya’s hand touch his shoulder. The least Osamu could do was not sob, but even that proved difficult. The hand didn’t stay long, and pretty soon he heard Chuuya walking away. 

Once he heard the creaking of the door, Osamu opened his eyes to see Chuuya’s phone in front of him. Voice stuffy from tears, Dazai mumbled, “Can you tell me about your day, Odasaku?”

And so Oda started speaking.

It wasn’t anything big, like a huge storm or a bomber, but that was perfectly alright. The mundane tasks like going to the grocery store or going on a walk, the things Dazai couldn’t do, were the things that fascinated him the most. The simplicity in which they were carried out was fascinating. They hadn’t even gotten past Oda leaving his house that morning before the door opened back up and in came Chuuya. He sat down quietly on the bed, moving to rub Dazai’s back as he placed the plate of crackers down on the bedside table and said softly, “I’m back, ‘Samu.”

Dazai hummed before mumbling into the phone, “Odasaku, Chuuya came back. It’s okay now. Have fun on your date.”

On the other end, Oda said, smile clear in his voice, “Alright, Dazai, goodbye. Get some food in you. Remember to try drinking some tea after, it might help you not throw up.”

And just like that, the call had ended. 

He would have whimpered purely for attention and sympathy (not at all related to the fact that every single one of his joints were all quite literally actively subluxated from the strain of gravity itself), but he was already wrapped up in Chuuya’s arms, head held gently to the redhead’s muscular chest. Osamu let out a deep breath, but it barely helped at all. Without any attempt to hide the pain or discomfort he was feeling, Osamu mumbled, “Chuuuuuyaaaaa… I don’t feel good…”

Chuuya replied gently, never stopping rubbing his back, “Normal don’t feel good, or extra don’t feel good?”

Anyone else would have probably been sobbing by now, begging someone to call an ambulance and crying out that they were in pure agony, but Osamu nonetheless replied, “Normal. Still don’t want food, though.”

Even just the thought caused a lump to form in his throat and a lurch to go through his stomach.

Once again, Chuuya put in the effort to clarify. “Is it just nausea, or is it nausea from last time we ate?”

It felt dumb, seeing as the last time they’d eaten was coming up on eight hours ago, but the answer was indeed the second one. His stomach was still cramping, and it had been for a long while. Osamu really wasn’t wanting to add to that feeling. To his extended silence, Chuuya said, “‘Samu, I’m not as good as you at reading people. You have to answer or I won’t be able to help.”

Osamu let out a small, stubborn huff.

“Will you eat canned crab?”

After only a moment, Osamu nodded.

Chuuya nodded back, placing a gentle kiss upon Osamu’s forehead before getting up and leaving before anything could be said to stop him.  

Osamu very quickly started to spiral.

He was cold, and alone, and he wanted so badly to die and never come back. He didn’t think he could do this any longer, and it hadn’t even been a full minute. His lungs heaved for air as he desperately held back the tears in his eyes, this time much less successful than the last. Soon enough a wet spot had formed on his pillow and Osamu was sobbing so much he couldn’t breath. His chest was hurting just as much as his stomach, which was hurting now more than ever. Osamu was crying so loudly that the door microwave’s beeping had gone unnoticed, and so had the sound of the opening door. It was only when the squishmallow heating pad was positioned over his stomach, the tears being whipped from his cheeks, and a kiss was placed on his cheek, that he noticed Chuuya had returned. “I heard you crying and I thought this’d make it easier. I’ll stay until you fall asleep, I swear.”

The tears having exhausted him, that was all it took for him to dip into the realms of unconsciousness. 

Chuuya waited a solid hour before eventually leaving.

Chapter Text

Did Chuuya know that a single bite of the canned crab would murder his husband’s stupidly sensitive stomach? Yes.

Was Chuuya going to buy it and let him try to eat it anyways? Also yes.

The second time leaving their shared bedroom was much easier, seeing as Osamu was asleep, and not a sobbing mess, but it was still hard. The knowledge that Osamu could awake at any time weighed heavily on Chuuya’s heart as he closed the door, locking it behind him. He was really hoping none of his viewers saw him in his dirty sweatshirt and checkered pyjama pants, but he had absolutely no faith that that wish would come true, even with his hood up. 

That tended to be the way things went with a very extra casual 40,000 average viewers per stream.

With that thought in mind, he got into his car and put on a random radio station. Logically, he knew he had left Dazai’s phone right beside him, so he could call at any point without issue, but that didn’t take his mind off the situation any less. Chuuya also knew they were quickly running out of the things Osamu could tolerate, and also ginger tea. He’d needed to go grocery shopping regardless, it just sucked that he was going when Osamu was so emotional.

Just as Soon You’ll Get Better by Taylor Swift (ha. Ironic.) came on, Chuuya reached Costco. He parked the car, not taking advantage of the priority parking pass that belonged to his sick husband, before walking across the expanse of the parking lot and grabbing a shopping cart. 

Chuuya flashed his membership card before making his way to the crackers. In true costco fashion, he got distracted by the stuffies. 

Osamu needed a new stuffy; he needed something good in his life with how bad he’d been feeling. 

As Chuuya dug through the squishmallows, he struggled to decide on which one to get. At first he’d been drawn to the giant pineapple, but he knew that no matter how funny it’d be, Dazai would not at all appreciate the food imagery. There was a cute dog he’d probably love to death, but after giving it a test hug, Chuuya decided that the texture variation was one that he knew his husband wouldn’t be able to handle, even on the best of days. The last one he considered was a blue fish.

It was perfect.

Just as he put it in his cart, an angry-looking middle-aged woman came up to him, a child who couldn’t be older than seven walking along-side her. Chuuya made a firm attempt to leave before a confrontation could start, but he was too slow.

“Hey, you! My son wanted that one! Are you really going to take my son’s dream stuffie away from him?”

And just like that, an evil idea spawned into his brain. Chuuya turned around, a smile on his face, and said, “And my husband has been bed bound for a week. The only reason I’m here in the first place is to get him his favourite food because he’s refusing to eat, but he won’t even be able to eat that. So, let me ask you. Do you want to take the only sliver of possible happiness away from a man who’s spent the last week unable to move at all without symptoms that would land any healthy person in the ER?”

It seemed the scheme was a success, as the Karen looked sufficiently traumatized.

Her son, on the other hand, was distracted by the very same pineapple that Chuuya had put back.

Chuuya just walked away, back in search of crackers with the last fish squishmallow successfully in his cart.

It wasn’t until he left the aisle that he realized the child had been wearing Dazai’s merch.

Whelp, too late now.

The kid hadn’t even seemed to notice him, so it was okay regardless.

Pretty soon, Chuuya reached the crackers and put four multi-packs of saltines in his cart. Next up was the hunt for applesauce, which was also very quickly found and put inside the cart. Before long, Chuuya was on the hunt for turkey slices to at least attempt to give Osamu some protein. The last thing he got was the ginger tea, before finding the different brands of canned crab. 

After standing there for a solid ten minutes, trying desperately to remember which brand Osamu liked, he made the dreaded phone call and awoke his husband. 

Osamu didn’t pick up at first, but he immediately called back. “Mhm..?”

The voice from the other end of the line was groggy which, seeing as he’d just been awoken from a two hour nap, made a considerable amount of sense. As he placed him on speaker, Chuuya said, “Hey, ‘Samu. I’m sorry for waking you up, but I’m wondering which canned crab you like best. Also you’re on speaker.”

All he heard from the phone was disjointed grumbles.

Tone soft and voice ever so gentle as he scanned the shelves, Chuuya said, “Mackerel, you need to speak more clearly.”

Once again, Dazai mumbled, “The generic one. ‘Ts the best. When are you coming home, Chu?”

As he put the smallest pack in his cart, Chuuya said, “I’ll be home soon, ‘Samu, I promise. Give me like twenty minutes to check out and drive home. Are you feeling any better after sleeping?”

Dazai just groaned.

Chuuya sighed and said, “Alright, try to go back to sleep, love; I’ll be home soon, I swear. Bye, Mackerel.”

He very unwillingly hung up the phone.

As soon as Chuuya turned around to go pay ll, he saw a seventeen year old alt kid gawking at him. “Oh. My Gods. Are you CorruptedSorrow07? Please tell me you’re him, that would actually be so cool!!!”

Chuuya just stared at them for a solid second and blinked in slow-motion. As soon as his brain turned back on, he said, “Yeah, sorry, I am. I was not expecting that at all. We- I do but- anyways. He is me. Is there anything I can do for you?”

The next few moments made Chuuya regret his entire life leading up to that point.

“Would it be oka- Wait did that guy on the phone call you Chu? Wait, was that Fish? Is he okay? He sounded really not okay in his stream earlier. I’ve been so worried the past week. Nobody knows what's going on and the whole fandom is going insane with conspiracies. Please say he’s okay, I need him to be okay.”

After yet another blink, Chuuya said, “Yeah I- he- He’s okay. You heard him talking, I guess. That means he’s not as bad as he could be. He’s not in the hospital, so he’s okay. Sorry, I gotta get home and force-feed my human so he doesn’t die. Bye.”

And just like that, Chuuya was gone and heading towards the checkout, leaving the fan behind him.

There were no more interruptions after that, and the drive home was peaceful and quick. Pretty soon, the groceries were all put away and the squishmallow was tucked under his arm as he made his way to their shared bedroom. He opened the door to see his husband, the love of his life, in the fetal position doing deep breathing exercises. Chuuya walked over to the bed, sitting down and placing a gentle hand on Osamu’s back. “What’s up, ‘Samu?”

All that Chuuya received as a response was a strained moan.

It was then that his focus shifted to the empty plate and glass on the bed-side table. Understanding immediately dawned upon him. As he traced different shapes into Dazai’s lower back, he asked “Is it more that you feel like you’re gonna throw up, or do you need to throw up and you’re trying to stop it from happening?”

After coughing a few times, Osamu mumbled through gritted teeth, “‘M fine. I’m not gonna throw up. Just feel like shit.”

At that, Chuuya let out a small sigh. “Well, I got you a present..! It won’t fix anything, but I figured you’d like it.” 

Chuuya placed the giant plush within Dazai’s field of vision, immediately getting a faint smile out of his husband. After laying beside him, Chuuya wrapped Osamu in his arms and the red, puffy face was shoved into his chest. 

~~~~~~~~~

Osamu’s stomach hurt. He’d tried to eat the crackers, hoping for some sort of praise, but he hadn’t expected the cramps to be this bad. He felt the contents of his stomach climbing up his throat as he breathed through the nausea, so much so he could taste the acid in the air he breathed out. His stomach hurt more than everything else combined.

Drinking the water had only made it feel a hundred times worse, but somehow Chuuya made it better with just the hand on his back. 

Had Osamu had the words, he would have thanked Chuuya for the plushie, but he was too tired, too pained, too sick to do anything but hug him close. Voice barely a whisper, Chuuya said, “Someone recognized me at Costco. It was right after I called you, and they heard most of our conversation. Out of everything they could’ve asked, all they wanted to know was if you were okay.”

Osamu couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was glad to know he was cared for, but he didn’t have the energy to form a genuine opinion of his feelings on the matter. Instead, Osamu just mumbled, “You gotta go stream, Chu… I’ll just watch you. If you cancel, they’ll get more worried.” 

Chuuya seemed to hesitate, almost like he was scared to leave, which was probably valid. “You promise to text me if anything happens?”

Humming, Osamu detached himself, clinging onto his new stuffy instead.

He could do it.

He had to.

Chapter Text

Tainted @CorruptedSorrow07 - 5sec

Hey assholes. Going live in a few minutes on the StraysSMP with @rashomon, @brainiac, and @SushiTheTiger. Join or I’ll fuck your mom.

As Chuuya joined the voice room that they had created for streams such as this, he felt anything but prepared. Even with his fresh clothes, washed face, and combed hair, Chuuya’s brain was scattered. He said with the air of confidence he always tried to carry, “Hey, guys. Are you ready to start? Where’s Atsushi?”

He could sense the depth of Akutagawa’s iconic, cold stare through the screen. “He is going to join a few minutes late. Last we spoke, he was in the process of baking a cake for his cousin’s birthday.”

Ranpo cut in, as chillax as ever as he played with one of the many random fidgets he kept on his desk, and asked, “How’s Dazai been? Has he been eating? Drinking water?”

With an exasperated sigh, Chuuya said, “He’s trying. It’s not going great, but he’s trying. He’s been getting cramps on top of the other stuff, so it’s been hard to convince him to eat anything at all.”

Still neutral in tone, Ranpo asked, “Have you tried canned crab? He likes that, doesn’t he?”

Chuuya groaned and held his head in his hands. “He can’t even eat crackers, Ranpo… Can we just… please? I need a distraction. I can’t think about that right now. I think I might honestly scream if I have to say anything about it on live.” Lifting his head back up, he continued, “Oh, and FYI, ‘Samu is feeling extra clingy so he’s gonna be watching my stream. He’ll probably be a menace in my chat.”

Ranpo backed off after that, sencing the tension, and pretty soon after, Akutagawa announced that he was starting.

The other two quickly followed suit.

With all the fake enthusiasm he could muster, Chuuya exclaimed to the camera, “Hey chat! How’ve you guys been? Sorry for canceling yesterday, by the way. There was some personal stuff that came up and I completely forgot I was supposed to stream.”

The ‘personal stuff’ in question was Dazai having a presyncope episode five minutes before Chuuya’s start time.

It took a solid five seconds for Chuuya to dig himself out of that hole.

“Anyways, if you can read, then you know what we’re doing; if not, we’re gonna be playing on StraysSMP. The plan is to try out Medic's new minigame *cough cough* torture chamber *cough cough* which will probably go horribly, given my track reccord.”

TheOwlLady: AHHHHHH HI TAINTED!

JuleTheGoul: OMG HI!!!!! I finally caught a stream!

⭐TheEnigmaticFish: Hello0o0o0ooooo!!! 

Cakenator2000: Hey Tainted!!!!

With a sigh, Chuuya said, “Fish, go back to your depression cave or whatever. Stop being a menace in my chat.”

They both knew the banter was necessary to keep up appearances.

⭐TheEnigmaticFish: Awwwwww… The Chibi hates me. Guys, your steamer is being mean to a dying man, you should cancel him >:c

The entire chat seemed to implode on itself in that moment, all of them asking if the other streamer was alright. Chuuya let out an exaggerated groan and said, “Fish, stop being dramatic, we all know you aren’t dying. Shall I call your roommate and tell him to confiscate your phone? I bet he would if I asked nicely enough.”

⭐TheEnigmaticFish: OH. MY. GOD. Tainted is a bully confirmed how dare he bring Chu into this ૮( ˶ ㅠ︿ㅠ) ა

After approximately ten more minutes of back and forth with his chat and his husband, Chuuya un-deafened, re-joining his friends’ conversation. Ranpo, being Ranpo, was the only one to notice. Cheekily, he said, “Hey, Tainted! What took so long?”

In his typical facade of irritation, Chuuya said “Someone decided he wanted to show up, and he’s somehow manipulated my entire chat into feeling bad for him.  Anyways, are you guys ready to get started?”

Akutagawa, ever the unenthusiastic, said, “Yes, indeed. Which level of difficulty would suit us best, do you think?”

As he crafted the remainder of the diamond armour that he hadn’t had out of the diamonds he was given by Ranpo, Chuuya replied, “How about we go straight to hard mode? If we beat it then maybe I can prove to a certain brunette that he’s wrong and I’m better.”

⭐TheEnigmaticFish: Guys, don’t let Tainted fool you. He’s literally 5’3. I’ve seen him up close it’s kinda adorable.

Electing to be the bigger (debatable) person, Chuuya ignored him.

It was at that moment that Atsushi joined the call. “Hey guys! Sorry for being late, I was baking a cake for my cousin’s birthday and lost track of time!”

Akutagawa said calmly, “No, that’s quite alright, Sushi. We were just about to get started.”

With how simpy he sounded, it was a wonder that there wasn't more fanart of them out there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stream had been going amazingly for a solid two hours. They’d been working through the dungeons their friend had created, all of which consisted of beautifully intricate, yet horrific designs, as well as insanely detailed redstone. Everything was perfect.

It was around the two hour and seventeen minute mark that Osamu went entirely silent for a little too long.

Shroomlover69: Am I crazy or did Fish stop chatting really abruptly?

whenWillYouWear_wigs: Ima watch Medic’s new vid as soon as this stream ends I wanna know how this redstone works so bad

BumbleBEEEEEE: Is Fish okay?

Chuuya forced all the possible reasons for his husband’s abrupt silence from his brain.

He was fine.

Muting up so his friends wouldn’t be bothered, Chuuya responded to the one comment not asking about Osamu. “Honestly, Medic’s redstone skills are insane. She’s tried teaching me different things at times but I can never understand what she’s talking about. Fish is even worse at explaining, but he’s also the type to make fully functional minecraft inside of minecraft inside of minecraft on a random Tuesday just cause he was bored, so maybe that’s less of a words issue, and more just him being insanely smart. I’m still the better builder, though.”

⭐TheEnigmaticFish: lol u wish

⭐TheEnigmaticFish: and chat I am quite literally just brushing my teeth. Chill. I’m not dying (kinda wish I was tho 😒)

Seeing Osamu’s chat message put Chuuya’s racing mind at ease.

Considering how unwell Dazai was, ten minutes seemed like a fair amount of time for that task to take.

That said, Chuuya still doubted the story.

When he’d un-deafened, Ranpo was calling out, “-nted? Tainted…? TAINTE- Oh- hey, Tainted! We’re about to start the next room!”

The rest of the stream was smooth sailing. 

Until it wasn’t.

The group had been trying to free Atsushi, who had been lured into a trap by a cat, when a crashing sound was heard through Chuuya’s mic. 

The whole group went quiet.

On his webcam, Tainted was seen setting his headphones around his neck, quickly turning to what was assumed to be the door, and calling out, “Osamu?” 

blueberrymuffin: u good?

GodOfCats: Is everything ok???

CrabbyComedian: I literally just got here wtf is going on?

After a few moments of silence, his expression shifted into one of panic as he quickly moved to face his monitor, obviously in a rush. “I have to go,” was all that was said before the screen changed to black.

Chapter Text

As Osamu lay in their shared bed, watching Chuuya’s stream on his phone and typing out random things to send to the chat, he was becoming less and less confident in his ability to not throw up what little he had in his stomach. Every single small sip of water he took only added to the feeling of a huge pile of rocks sitting in his belly, and every breath brought up with it a bit of his stomach contents.

He stayed put until he knew for certain that he absolutely could not any longer.

It was only after a particularly horrible wave of nausea rolled through him that he gave in. He slowly sat up, feeling the world tilt and blur around him as his body failed to adjust. Even if he didn’t end up vomiting, the nausea had reached the point at which he was fully prepared to just sleep on the washroom’s tiled floor for the rest of his life.

Osamu clutched the wall, his favourite blanket being dragged behind him as the sounds of Chuuua’s stream filled the small home. Every single one of his joints felt as though it was being grated down by a cheese grater, and his muscles felt like he’d run four marathons back to back, but somehow the cramping in his stomach was worse than all the other pains combined. It had started when he’d eaten those god-forsaken crackers, but Osamu hadn’t wanted Chuuya to worry, so he’d kept his mouth shut for the most part.

Chuuya worried too much these days.

Osamu didn’t deserve that level of care.

Chuuya would definitely beg to differ.

As soon as Osamu arrived in the washroom, he closed the door and let himself slide down to the floor. He immediately wrapped both arms tightly around his middle, pressing his head firmly back against the wall and letting out a strained moan. He felt every little jolt that went through the bloated dome of his abdomen, each one sending acid up his throat which he immediately forced back down. 

Not only was there a constant sickly gurgling in his stomach, but his intestines felt like an overactive cauldron. Nothing felt ok in the slightest, and that was only further proven when Osamu’s stomach decided that it was entirely fed up with him. 

With almost no warning, a nauseated burp tore its way up his throat, causing his back to arch with a heave. Through the fog in his brain, Osamu somehow managed to get his head over the toilet just in time for a small dribble of vomit to fall from his mouth. He dry-heaved a few more times, but nothing else came up. Wrapping the blanket firmly around his shivering form, Osamu let his head fall to rest on the toilet seat. The position sent white hot bolts of pain through his lower back and neck, but his stomach felt so ungodly sick that he really didn’t have it in himself to care.

Not bothering to move more than necessary, Osamu looked down at his phone. He smiled weakly at his husband's antics as he heard Chuuya go off on a tangent about his ’superiority complex’. 

Osamu wrote a fitting response. 

He went on to type up some stupid excuse about brushing his teeth, and then shut off his phone.

He very quickly forgot the contents of both messages.

After placing the phone face-down on the floor, Osamu decided he still very much wanted to die. The bubbling in his lower belly still hadn’t subsided, and it was only adding onto the already gradually worsening nausea that swelled up like a heavy water balloon in his too-small stomach. Save for the few teaspoons he’d just managed to bring up, Osamu doubted anything would come of either sensation.

He hated how pregnant he looked, stomach sticking out like a sore thumb from his abdomen, filled to the brim with gas.

Every second longer that he spent sitting on the bathroom floor was another point to add to the list of reasons for him to just stop trying. 

Had Chuuya been there with him, he’d have already shut down that thought entirely.

Osamu desperately wanted his husband.

He wanted Chuuya to sit next to him. He wanted his husband to be there, rubbing his back and telling him it was all going to be okay.

But Osamu was alone. 

The only thing protecting him from the cold floor was the blue throw that was wrapped around him, pulled tight by the hands that still hugged his middle. The sounds that Osamu let escape were those of pain. His stomach never seemed to want to give him a break, no matter what he tried. 

It felt like he’d tried everything.

He’d tried the diets, he’d tried the “quick fixes”, nothing ever worked, and at some point the doctors had stopped believing him.

They’d slapped an “IBS” label on it and called it a day, not bothering to go further than blood work.

No matter how much he countered that the symptoms didn’t match, how much Chuuya begged and yelled and cried for their help, they didn’t care. 

Osamu had stopped caring at some point, too. 

Chuuya never gave up, though.

That was one of the many, many things Osamu loved about his husband. Chuuya was one of the very few people who had yet to give up on him and although that could change at any point, they had gone through enough together that he had faith it never would.

Osamu looked down at the ring on his finger.

It was ornate, with thorns around the twisting vines. The tiny diamonds were encased in golden roses, each one specially picked out. It was the ring Chuuya had gifted him on their wedding day, and it was Osamu’s most prized possession.

Dear gods, he loved his husband.

He sat there on the floor for twenty more minutes after he’d thrown up, and at some point he started longing more for his bed back than he had the safety net of the toilet. 

More so than even his bed, Osamu longed for his husband back.

After flushing any trace of his illness down the toilet, ignoring how his body protested, he prepared himself as best he could to move. Osamu stood slowly, but immediately was hit by a presyncope attack. He tried desperately to ignore the sudden pounding of blood rushing in his head, causing pain to engulf his senses. Heart pounding and stomach lurching as heat enfolded every sense, he was unable to see or hear anything at all beyond the static as he took a single, shaky step. 

Osamu hadn’t even realized what was happening until his body collided with the wall.

He felt his right shoulder crunch and fill with stabbing pains, most definitely having subluxated.

That’d be annoying to deal with.

As he crumpled drunkenly to the floor, a voice called out through the ringing in his ears. 

He had absolutely no clue what it was saying. 

He responded with a pained groan.

Time blurred together as he gripped onto consciousness like a lifeline, and at some point, he felt himself be moved onto his side. A hand ever so gently started to rub his back as what he assumed was his pulse-oximeter was placed on his finger. There were more words, but he couldn’t decipher a single one of them. Maybe one or two of them were his name? He really wasn’t sure. Regardless of anything else, his brain felt like it was exploding, and it was anything but pleasant.

Osamu slowly came back into his body, and became vaguely aware that he was being held in the arms of a certain 5’3 slug. Much more present, although still feeling slightly underwater, Osamu heard Chuuya’s voice say, “There you are, ‘Samu… You’re okay, I promise. How’re you feeling?”

Osamu just groaned, not bothering to answer. His stomach was still a mess of pain and nausea, and the whole almost passing out thing had only made it worse. He felt Chuuya’s hand brush the hair back out of his face while he said with a softness only reserved for Osamu in his worst of states, “Oh, love… Did you throw up? There’s vomit on your lips…”

It was at that point that Osamu abandoned all efforts to hide his pain. He made a sound that could only be described as that of a wounded animal, and Chuuya gently kissed his forehead. 

He felt himself be lifted upright, his head being set upon his husband’s chest. The movement unsettled him in every way imaginable. Although it definitely wasn’t another presyncope attack, all of the symptoms were there, though mild. He felt Chuuya’s arms wrap around him, holding him close against his chest. ”Love… why didn’t you text me?”

Had it not been for the throbbing pain in his shoulder, Osamu would have shrugged. Instead, he mumbled, “I forgo’ I could.”

With that, what little energy he may have had left was entirely gone.

That must have been evident by how his voice had started to falter near the end, because Chuuya simply held him. He didn’t press about symptoms, nor did he attempt to move them again. The two of them just sat quietly in the hallway, waiting until Osamu was ready.

The silence seemed to stretch for hours, not that either of them actually cared. Osamu was too fuzzy to realize time was passing, and Chuuya just wanted his husband to be okay. At some point, about a half hour into sitting there, Chuuya had started rubbing Osamu’s lower back. The gentil circles helped with the nausea, and Osamu gave a small, content almost-hum. He was far too weak to actually produce any substantial amount of noise, but the effort was heard. 

Chuuya held him closer.

They sat there for another full hour, Osamu gradually becoming more of a living being, before Chuuya’s phone rang from his pocket.

Trying his absolute hardest not to move his husband, Chuuya fished out the phone and answered, placing it on speaker as Osamu rested back against his chest and into his arms.

“Hello?” said Chuuya, voice quiet as not to aggravate the pounding still raging inside Osamu’s skull.

It was Atsushi’s voice that spoke.

Skipping any sort of pleasantry, he asked, “Oh god, is everything okay? You just left out of nowhere and everyone was so worried and we tried not to show it but I don’t think we did a good job; I hope we were able to distract the people a bit bu-“

“Atsushi, everything is fine. Dazai collapsed so I’ve been sitting with him since then.” said Chuuya quietly, cutting the other man off. Osamu really wanted to make a teasing statement of some sort, but he didn’t have the strength to think up a word, let alone say a coherent sentence.

On the other side of the line, Atsushi asked, “Why was he standing in the first place?”

Osamu felt Chuuya’s head move, more than he saw Chuuya look down at him.

“Puk’d an’ wan’ed Chu.”

A gentil kiss was placed on top of his head. 

The phone probably hadn’t picked anything up with how quietly it was said, but even if it had, it wouldn’t have made much sense.

A moment later, Chuuya said into the phone, “He wasn’t feeling well and wanted comfort. He forgot he could text me. Brain fog is a dick like that.”

Confusion evident, Atsushi asked, “Hasn’t he not been feeling well for a while, now?”

Chuuya just sighed and said, “Well, yeah; he was just feeling extra shitty. Also, it doesn’t matter that he feels shitty all the time, that just means he always craves some kind of comfort.”

“I guess that makes sense. Anyways, is there anything I can do to help? I can come over if you need? Or I could make some soup?” offered Atsushi.

Osamu groaned weakly at the suggestion. He didn’t like the idea of anyone other than Chuuya being there with him, and he liked the idea of any kind of food even less.

Chuuya seemed to understand his hesitance. “No, thanks. We’re mostly just doing floor cuddles, to be honest, so not much you can really do to help there. As for soup, I doubt it’d end up getting eaten.” 

Luckily, Atsushi seemed to understand without further question and soon enough, they were saying their goodbyes.

As Chuuya put his phone down on the floor, Osamu mumbled, voice still just as broken as before, “C’n we g’ to b’d?”

He felt Chuuya nod against the top of his head, before ever so gently being scooped into a princess carry.

The movement sent his head spinning, and his stomach churning, as well as reintroducing the hot flashes and chest pains from before. He felt every step Chuuya took as it rattled through his angry joints, never once getting a break until he was set down on the bed and tucked gentilly under the covers. He allowed his joints and muscles to let go, and the pains in them reduced to a more manageable level.

Osamu curled in on himself, hugging his new plushie as Chuuya went and got himself ready for bed. 

Osamu didn’t even last a full minute before the first of many silent tears fell down his cheeks. There wasn’t even a good reason for him to be crying. Why was he being such a baby? He never cried, and yet here he was, crying for the second time in a single day. He didn’t even have to try to be silent, he just was. There was no energy for sobs any more.

The moment after Osamu felt the bed dip, he was back in his husband’s arms; one hand supporting his head, while the other rubbed gentil circles on his back. Chuuya said softly, as if reading Osamu’s mind, “It’s good to cry, ‘Samu. It’s your body trying to release tension. You’re alright, I promise, I’ve got you.”

Not even five minutes later, Osamu had cried himself to sleep.

Chapter Text

When Osamu awoke the next day, the sun had already risen and Chuuya, who was indeed awake, was still holding him close.

The first thing he noticed was the taste of vomit in his mouth, then the ache in the overworked muscles of his abdomen.

“Mmm…. Chuuuyaaaa……” he mumbled dramatically, not moving at all from his position.

He got a small “Hm?” from his husband, who was doing god knows what on his phone.

“My mouth tastes like puke.”

Placing his phone down beside him, Chuuya said, “I mean, you threw up so yeah. We should get your teeth brushed, though.” He turned to look Osamu in the eye and continued, “You slept for fourteen hours; are you feeling any better?”

Osamu hummed quietly before mumbling tiredly, “I feel less sick, so I guess, yeah.”

That was only half true. He was just as nauseous and just as bloated, but at the very least the cramping had dissipated, and the reflux wasn’t as bad.

Tone skeptical, Chuuya asked, “What about everything else?”

Osamu stayed silent.

Everything else hurt just as badly as before, and the room still spun at the exact same rate. The fatigue still seeped just as deeply into his bones, and his brain still ached just as much from lack of proper nutrition.

Out of nowhere, Chuuya said softly, brushing the hair from Osamu’s eyes before kissing his forehead, “I think you should start using your rollator around the house. You know as well as I do that you’ll only get worse if you don’t move around.”

Even though he knew Chuuya was entirely correct, Osamu groaned at the suggestion. They’d had the conversation countless times before.

Chuuya would tell him it was alright, and that it wasn’t admitting defeat, but instead persevering.

Osamu would view himself as a lazy failure who could do nothing for himself anymore.

That being said, especially considering he hadn’t been doing his exercises thanks to fatigue, Chuuya was most likely correct. 

“How about I go get it? Then we’ll go to the washroom and you can brush your teeth and wash your mouth out.”

Shoving his head into Chuuya’s chest, Osamu mumbled, “Can we sit on the back porch after? I wanna cuddle on the porch swing.”

For the first time in a long time, he actually heard the smile in Chuuya’s voice when he said, “Of course, love. I can help you with sunscreen. Why don’t you sit up, and I’ll go get your rollator and some fresh PJs.”

With a nod of approval from him, Chuuya was off. Pyjamas were soon placed beside Osamu, still not yet having moved, and Chuuya squeezed his hand. “I love you so, so much, Osamu. I hope you know that.”

Osamu huffed, pouting as he whined, “Why are you being cute when I can’t kiss you?”

With a mischievous smirk, Chuuya bent over and gently kissed his lips, right before turning and leaving a stunned Osamu Dazai in his wake.

Osamu lay there, unmoving, not making any attempts at changing.

His head was spinning too much to even try.

He didn’t want to to admit defeat, but even Osamu could tell when doing something on his own would be counter productive. After categorizing what he could and could not do, Osamu decided to start with his pants. 

He bent his knees, raising his hips just enough to get the elastic waistbands of both his pyjama pants as well as his underwear down around his thighs. He hadn’t even realized he’d stopped breathing until he let himself fall back to the bed, letting out a huff of air. Once he’d managed to shimmy out of his three-day-old clothes, Osamu put the new clothes on in much the same fashion, only opposite. Before he even had a chance to get the band up to his waist, Chuuya was coming back into the room, rollator in toe. Osamu said through rasping breaths, “I think… need… help… shirt…”

He sounded like he’d just come from a marathon, which was unsurprising considering that was exactly how he was feeling. His heart was pounding through his ribcage, and he felt as though he was trapped in 40 degree heat. Even worse still, the feint taste of iron was added to the already disgusting taste of stomach acid, causing him to hold back a gag.

When Chuuya reached him, he sat beside him on the bed. A gentil hand was placed on his shoulder, rubbing up and down his arm as Chuuya whispered, “Turn on your side and I’ll rub your back.”

Osamu did just that. The hand that met his skin felt heavenly, allowing him the gift of relaxation. Chuuya muttered, “You’re really warm, ‘Samu…”

Osamu just hummed.

Did Chuuya think he didn’t know that?

Regardless, he felt the hand leave his back, before the blankets were removed from atop him. With just their linin sheet for coverage, a weight lifted from his chest. Chuuya resumed his ministrations and they rested there for a while, Osamu’s systems slowly settling. The hand on his back kept him grounded, allowing him to more easily breath through the ache in his chest. 

By the time he was ready to move again, not only had his heart calmed, but so too had his stomach. It felt less like an explosive pressure chamber, and more like a happy birthday balloon from the grocery store three blocks down. With a small huff Chuuya removed his hand, rubbing up and down Osamu’s side instead, Osamu asked tiredly, “Can you help me with my shirt, Chibi?”

With a huff of repressed laughter, Chuuya did just that. A firm hand was placed on Osamu’s back, and he put every ounce of remaining strength into sitting up. His arms shook as he held his breath, waiting until he felt the pillow being set behind him to shuffle back before collapsing against it. He closed his eyes, a hand caressing his cheek as his heart hammered all over again in his chest. 

Osamu tried to steady his breathing, allowing his husband to gently peal his shirt from his skin. It brushed over the back of his neck, leaving his back in direct contact with the silk pillowcase. The now-crumpled shirt was dragged down the length of his arms, before at long last being thrown in the hamper along with his pants and underwear. 

Osamu pulled the blanket up to cover his abdomen, curling up as he did so. It was all he could do not to scream and sob at how disgusting he was when he saw his stomach.

He felt the bed dip beside him, comforting arms wrapping around him and holding him close.

He let out a gut wrenching sob, tears falling one after another down his cheeks.

Chuuya’s lips met the top of his head in a gentil kiss, sweet nothings being whispered alongside it. 

They sat there together for what felt like hours, but only ten minutes actually passed. Osamu’s chest stopped heaving and Chuuya, voice gentil, asked, “Are you ready now? We can talk about whatever’s going on in that head of yours when your mouth’s been cleaned.”

Osamu gave him a simple, tired hum and soon enough, Chuuya was helping to maneuver his arms into the sleeves of a crisp cotton t-shirt. Within minutes, the shirt was fully on, barely concealing the ugly distension of his stomach, and he was being helped to his feet.

As soon as he was upright, Osamu was leaning all of his weight on his rolater. He cracked his back, releasing built up tension while the painful pressure in his hips quickly grew. He hadn’t realized how badly his neck ached, nor had he noticed how sharp the pain in his knees had become until he took a step.

Both of his legs immediately buckled under the weight.

Placing himself behind him, Chuuya said, “You’re alright, Osamu. Just keep going. If you fall, I’m right here to catch you.”

With that extra level of reassurance, Osamu took a step.

And then another…

And another…

And another.

Every single one of them was shaky beyond belief, but he was determined to get to the end without resting. There we’re a few times where they had to stop, lest he collapse entirely, but he persevered through the pain of it all.

Once they’d reached the bathroom door, Chuuya placed a gentle hand on Osamu’s lower back. “Sit down, I’ll pass you water to swish and spit back into the cup.”

Osamu obeyed without question.

He set the breaks by the handles before slowly making his way down to sit. Sitting released the agony from his joints, and the tense expression drained from his face. Had it not been for the inflamed disk in his spine causing irregular movement of the muscles in his neck, maybe his shoulders would have slumped over as well; as it was, they were far too tense.

Chuuya soon passed him the water, and he did as instructed. By the sixth time, the taste was entirely gone and he even managed a few actual sips.

The sunscreen didn’t take long, nor did it take any actual effort from him, but nevertheless Osamu felt moments away from collapsing by the time they were both ready.

He really needed to lay down again.

With that in mind, Osamu stood, desperate for the relief that the porch swing could bring.

His vision turned fuzzy and white once more, and his head ached along with his joints and muscles, but he was filled with a new found determination to be outdoors. 

When they did eventually reach the back door, it felt like he’d walked a marathon. Chuuya had him sit once more while he went in search of blankets, leaving Osamu alone to hunch over, eyes closed in a desperate plea for peace.

It didn’t take long for his husband to get back with the blankets. Chuuya placed the strangely heavy pile atop Osamu’s lap and turned off the breaks, before pushing his husband out onto the patio without a word. 

Osamu allowed his head to fall into his husband’s abdomen.

Holding himself up had been absolutely exhausting for even the short amount of time he’d been doing it. Osamu was desperately in need of some kind of support for his neck.

The blankets were lifted from his lap, and the support of his husband was gone as soon as it came. He watched silently as Chuuya set them down, before going on to re-arrange the pillows. Once finished, Chuuya turned back to him and asked, “You ready?”

Osamu nodded.

He slowly stood, using Chuuya as a crutch. The pain and pressure came flooding back as soon as he was upright, as did the lightheadedness. It took a moment for it to settle, but soon enough he was sitting on the swing, curling up next to his husband and more at peace than he had been in ages.

The soft, blue, BMO blanket was draped over him, concealing his body from the world, and revealing Chuuya’s laptop from beneath it. “I thought it might be fun to watch a movie,” explained Chuuya as he positioned the second blanket.

Osamu purred, wrapping both arms around Chuuya as he snuggled up close to him. In a whisper, Osamu asked, “Can we watch Ponyo?”

Another kiss was placed atop his head before Chuuya whispered back, “Of course, Love.”

They sat like that for a moment, rocking back and fourth, not making an effort to move until Chuuya detached himself.

Soon Ponyo was playing full screen.

They sat, limbs intertwined, just watching, not making a single sound.

Within minutes, Osamu’s eyes had started drooping.

His husband’s pinky finger met his nose, gently easing his eyelids shut.

Osamu hummed, allowing them to close, but sleep didn’t seem to want to take him.

A hand was soon reaching under his shirt to rub his back, calming him even more.

Osamu mumbled half heartedly, “Meanie Slug…”

He was out within seconds, the only sound being that of the flock of old women on the screen, as his body slumped even further still.

Chapter Text

When Osamu awoke, still cuddling with his husband on the porch swing, his body remained one giant ache. Unsurprising, but annoying nonetheless.

He was hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that refused him the satisfaction of satiation.

He decided against mentioning it.

The sun was beating warmly onto his face, and Chuuya was still rubbing his back. He didn’t seem to realize anything had changed. His husband was humming a simple melody, most likely not even thinking about it, as he drew simple shapes under Osamu’s shirt. Every so often, his hand would move to gently massage Osamu’s churning stomach, but it never lasted long. It helped with the nausea, as well as the residual ache from the cramps he’d had the day before.

When Chuuya did notice the change in his husband’s breaths, he made a small noise of acknowledgement. He placed a kiss upon Osamu’s head, before promptly going back to rubbing his back.

It didn’t take long for Osamu’s leg to fall asleep.

He moved slightly and felt his leg go ice cold as feeling was regained. After stretching out a bit, limbs jerking uncontrollably with the strain, he let out a gentil sigh and moved to become comfortable once more.

When he shifted, he felt his knee pop, filling with white hot agony that sent his back arching as he hissed.

Chuuya, voice filled with sudden panic as he stilled the hand on Osamu’s back, asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Osamu just gritted his teeth. He writhed, trying desperately to straighten his leg but getting nowhere. Chuuya shushed him as he squirmed, giving gentil praises. “You’re okay, just breathe. What hurts?”

But Osamu couldn’t speak.

All he could do was wheeze.

White spots started filling his vision as his brain became deprived of air. 

Suddenly, a deafening pop filled the air. 

The pulsing, screaming agony reduced to a harsh ache as he straightened his leg out fully, feeling a small jolt go through it as the joint returned to its proper position.

Osamu collapsed back into his husband, taking a few deep breaths as he shielded his eyes from the sun before whispering breathlessly, “I’m okay. Promise.”

Chuuya looked doubtful, but breathed a sigh of relief all the same. Placing another kiss on Osamu's temple, Chuuya said gently, “Thank god…”

Seconds later, Chuuya’s phone pinged with an email notification. He made a small “hm?” noise, before checking it. Osamu watched the screen, not paying any mind to the fire in his neck as he noted the 37,953 Twitter notifications, and read the email addresses from the animal shelter.

Dear Mr. Nakahara and Mr. Dazai,

I am writing to inform you that you have been approved to adopt one of our shelter’s cats. Please call me at (xxx)-xxx-xxxx to book a timeslot for an in-person meeting.

Thanks,

Sōseki Natsume

Seemingly without thinking, Chuuya called the number and placed it on speaker.

It didn’t ring for long before they heard a voice on the other end.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Yokohama Humane Society. My name is Naomi, how may I be of assistance?”

Hand rubbing Osamu’s back, Chuuya said, “Hello, Naomi. My husband and I just got an email approval and we’re looking to schedule a time to meet in person.”

“Alright! What are your last names? I need to look you up in our system.”

“They’re Nakahara and Dazai. Also- if it’s not too much trouble, we were wondering if it would be possible to schedule for a few weeks out? We’ve been dealing with a few personal issues at the moment that could get in the way.”

Osamu hummed quietly, not being picked up by the phone. 

“Typically we like to book within the week, but I suppose there’s no issue with that. Would July first at 2pm work?”

Chuuya’s hand gently massaged his neck as he responded, “Yes, that’s perfect! Thank you so much. Have a good rest of your day.”

The receptionist said goodbye, and Chuuya hung up.

Osamu felt Chuuya move beneath him, most likely reaching to play yet another movie.

All Osamu could think about was the Twitter notifications. What had happened to cause that many? It would be naive of him to think that he and Chuuya didn’t have some level of fame, but that seemed like a bit much. 

Once Chuuya had turned on Howl’s Moving Castle, he looked down and asked, “What’s on your mind, ‘Samu?”

Osamu hummed softly before asking, “Why is Twitter exploding? Did something happen?”

Chuuya let out a huff.

“I had to cut stream short when you collapsed; they’re probably just worried. It’s fine. Let’s just ignore it.”

But Osamu couldn’t ignore it.

He thought about it for the first twenty minutes of the movie, until he decided enough was enough.

He reached out, grabbing Chuuya’s phone and opening it to Twitter. 

Chuuya was barely paying attention.

Quack @ThePotatoKing - 1 day ago

@CoruptedSorrow07 what in the everloving fuck just happened?? Explain??? Please????

Hellow World @boomboomboom333 - 1 day ago

I look away for ONE SECOND to walk my goldfish and @CorruptedSorrow07 ‘s stream is over and the vod is just… gone??? wtf?

Sushi @ SushiTheTiger - 1 day ago

Hey guys! Had so much fun on stream today! Check out the vod at twitch.tv/SushiTheTiger  

You’ll notice that there’s an area at about halfway through that’s cut but please don’t worry! Stuff happened and it’s being dealt with. Please try not to explode Tainted’s phone.

Still staring at the tens of thousands of messages, Osamu said dully, “Wow. That’s- … Wow.”

That seemed to get his husband’s attention.

Chuuya looked down, and Osamu watched his expression shift as the redhead cursed under his breath. 

He took his phone and typed out a post.

Tainted @CorruptedSorrow07 - 3 seconds ago

Hey guys! Just wanted to pop on here and say a few things. 

First off, I wanted to reassure you all that everything is fine and there’s no need to be worried.

Second, the Vod will be posted later as a cut version, and I’d appreciate it if clips were not shared. I know it might be a bit late for that but I was dealing with shit.

Third, stream is canceled for today but I will be back at it tomorrow.

So long bitches

Sort and sweet.

Typical Chuuya behaviour.

The replies were almost instant.

Mandy @ilikefishies - 1min ago

Hopefully everything’s ok! Sending love! <333

Cat Boi @crabbycomedian - 33 seconds ago

Sooooo… is this just gonna get forgotten about then? Ok coolio not like I’ve been crashing out for the past DAY AND A HALF!!!!

I’m Diablo @rashomon - 5 seconds ago

I’m glad you are doing well. I’m sending well wishes.

Hellow World @boomboomboom333 - 25 seconds ago

Button for the ppl who have no clue wtf is going on

The phone was turned off before being placed down on the tabe. As he went back to rubbing Osamu’s back, Chuuya said, “You should eat. What can you manage right now?”

Surprising absolutely nobody, Osamu stayed stubbornly silent.

“Osamu, you can’t just not answer. If you don’t choose anything, then you’re eating apple sauce. And we also still need to talk about what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Clinging to his husband, Osamu mumbled a small, “M’kay… can we talk tomorrow? ‘M tired…”

There was a reassuring hand on his lower back, and then he was moved off of Chuuya’s lap to instead lean against the back of the swing. He allowed his eyes to slip gentilly shut, listening to the movie that was playing as he awaited Chuuya’s return. 

It didn’t take long, but that few minutes felt like an eternity that stretched on for days.

When Chuuya did at last take back his seat, he was holding a snack sized apple sauce cup and a small spoon.

Osamu didn’t want it.

He was half-tempted to throw it to the floor like a child, but he didn’t.

If he said no, Chuuya was sure to listen, but so too would he worry.

Chuuya didn’t need even more on his mind.

Osamu took the small plastic cup and the spoon before resting his head upon Chuuya’s shoulder. He tried to feed himself, he really did, but the fatigue proved too heavy a force to work against. He did well with getting the spoon into his mouth, but half of the apple sauce that it held smeared onto his chin, and his hand promptly fell to rest on his lap. Chuuya gently pried his hand open, taking the spoon before going on to spoon-feed him. 

The apple sauce was good.

It was the first flavorful food he’d had in a week that didn’t immediately send stabbing pains into his guts.

After two small spoonfuls, the nausea had set in and by the time he’d finished all of it, so too had a dull ache.

Chuuya’s hand met Osamu’s bloated stomach, gently rubbing all the gross, icky feelings away. His other hand took the empty apple sauce cup and spoon from Osamu’s hand, and he placed it on the table in front of them.

The two of them sat like that, quietly, until the credits rolled and then some. That was how the rest of the day was spent.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready for dinner?”

Osamu ignored him, pretending to be entranced by the setting sun in the distance. His stomach bubbled up at the mere thought.

“Osamu, please don’t do this.”

He didn’t budge, a single tear falling down his cheek as he swallowed back the acid in his throat.

He felt a gentle hand start to rub his back as Chuuya muttered, “Love… I’m sorry, but you need to eat.”

The two of them sat there for a moment, the silence overwhelming. A few more tears were shed before Chuuya eventually asked, “If you’re not going to eat, do you mind telling me what’s been going on in that head of yours?”

Osamu murmured, “Chuuya promised we could talk tomorrow.”

All he got was a shrug. “No time like the present.”

The unfortunate truth was that Osamu had had no reason to be as emotional as he was. He couldn’t think of a single thing that could explain away the fact that he’d cried more in the last week than he had in all of the last two years.

Chuuya continued to hold him, not pushing it, but very clearly still awaiting a response. How was Osamu supposed to answer a question that simply did not have an answer? He was crying because he was weak; it had absolutely nothing to do with the agonizing pain that had him fantasizing of the single moment of relief that a cut to his bandaged wrist could bring to him. 

Wrapping both arms around his middle, Osamu leaned into his husband’s hold, shoving his face into his neck. Smirk evident in his voice, Chuuya teased, “What? Am I supposed to burp you or something?”

He groaned, swallowing back the contents of his stomach that was slowly rising up his throat. Into the crook of Chuuya’s neck, he mumbled, “If Chuuya wants me to puke on him, then sure.”

The hand on his back still continued it’s gentle, circular movements, following the direction in which food was supposed to travel instead of the way it was so clearly trying to. 

Voice soft, Chuuya asked, “Jokes aside, are you ready to talk?”

With a nauseated cough, Osamu nodded. His tears had stopped falling, and he really just wanted to get this over with.

When Osamu didn’t speak up, Chuuya took the lead. “Do you know why you’ve been so emotional, ‘Samu?”

Osamu shook his head minutely, vertigo hitting him like a truck. 

“Is it maybe because your emotions are bubbling over?”

“Hmmm…. Chuuya’s not making sense. Does he mean my stomach is bubbling over? Because if so, then the answer is yes.”

Sighing at his antiacs, Chuuya continued, “I think you’re overwhelmed, and you aren’t letting it show so your body doesn’t know what to do.” 

He was right, but Osamu’s guard remained up. He didn’t want to talk about this, and the only way he could think to answer was with more snark.

Osamu asked innocently, “So Chuuya wants to hear me moan? How scandalous… Does he have a pain kink?”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You shouldn’t try to hold back though, if your body needs it. Groaning helps manage pain. You should know that by now, Mr. I have a Phd in Astrophysics.”

As if trying to prove a point, Osamu’s stomach chose that exact moment to cramp up even more, pushing a small, involuntary grunt from the tip of his tongue.

It helped, if only for a moment, but it did help.

The cramp didn’t subside, instead settling into a constant, throbbing ache throughout his entire abdomen. He curled up even further around his stomach, trying to ignore the acid in his throat and the pain in his joints and the swimming of his vision and the pooling of blood in his feet and every other stupid symptom that his body had decided to throw at him.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Chuuya said as he scooped him up, holding Osamu’s head against his chest. “I’ll get you a bin and you can have some crackers, then we’ll watch YouTube on my laptop till you fall asleep.”

He ended it with a gentle kiss and if he’d had the energy, Osamu would have kissed him back with the unrivaled passion of one thousand setting suns.

The change in position made his head hurt, in turn making the nausea and dizzyness worse, but he hummed all the same. Chuuya had been right; making noises helped immensely.

Wordlessly, Chuuya carried him through their home, not questioning the small hitches in his breathing that occurred every time his stomach muscles contracted a little too forcefully, or the jumble of incomprehensible groans and grunts at the pain in his weak joints. At some point between the kitchen and they’re bedroom, Osamu felt a pocket of something get stuck in his chest. He groaned exaggeratedly into Chuuya’s chest, who hummed in responce as they entered through the doorway. Osamu was set down on the bed, propped up by pillows, 

He whined pathetically as Chuuya left him.

Of course, he returned moments later. In his hands, he held the empty popcorn bowl that Osamu instantly gripped. He clutched it tightly under himself by the rim, breathing heavily as his stomach lurched. He felt the bed dip beside him, and a gentle hand started patting his lower back, dislodging the pressure and forcing acidic air to come up from his stomach in an otherwise-empty gag. 

Some of the tension drained from his shoulders as the nausea receded slightly, but the stiff muscles kept them higher than usual. 

Osamu kept the empty bin in his grasp as he curled into Chuuya’s side, who was still gently patting his back. “You okay?” he asked in a whisper, receiving a non-committal hum in response. 

Chuuya took his chances, and asked, “Can you try eating something for me, love?”

Osamu gave a small shrug, receiving a forehead kiss in return, before he once again was left alone to curl up on himself. He stared into the bowl taking deep breaths to try to calm the pain that was quite literally everywhere. Surely it couldn’t take that long for Chuuya to get food, right? Osamu sat there, his thoughts racing faster than he could keep up.

Did he leave?

Does he hate me?

Did he finally decide I’m not worth it?

I bet he’s off with some pretty girl right now…

He probably decided that I’m not worth his charity.

Maybe I should just die.

I wouldn’t be in pain anymore.

I could finally be free.

I could just fall asleep, and never have to wake up…

He hated the small smile that occurred from the thought.

A moment later, the door opened to Chuuya juggling not only a plate of food, but another pile of assorted items as well. At the sight of Osamu’s tears, Chuuya set the items down on the bed and whispered, “Oh, love…”

The bed dipped, Chuuya joining him, and a gentil hand slipped up the back of his shirt to rub his back. As he leaned into the touch, Osamu took it upon himself to examine the items. There was a half-eaten sleeve of saltines, an apple sauce pouch, his squishmallow heating pad, his favourite water bottle (the colour suggested that Chuuya had added electrolytes, which was greatly appreciated), his laptop, as well as his knee brace. “I figured your knee probably needs some extra help after earlier. It still looks really swollen.”

Osamu said a small, “Thank you,” as he wrapped Chuuya in a tight hug. Chuuya kissed the top of his head before handing him the heating pad, which was immediately placed over the cramping, slithering, bloated snakes in his abdomen, barely even helping in the slightest. Once that was done, Chuuya proceeded to assist him with his knee brace. 

Osamu bent the joint a few times experimentally, satisfied with its new-found stability as Chuuya handed him the apple sauce. He sipped at it and felt it drop into his stomach, neither of them bothering to speak as Chuuya opened his laptop.

Hundreds of notifications flooded in, all of which tagging the both of them in one specific group chat.

The StraysSMP group chat.

Upon opening the group chat, Osamu saw a long string of messages all talking about some video that'd apparently been posted to YouTube.

Even through the fog in his brain, Osamu could tell that something was very, very wrong.

Chuuya skipped over most of the messages, going straight to where it had been linked.

CurruptedSorrow07 and EnigmaticFish’s Scandalous Love Affair (I have proof)

He felt a stream of acid rise up his throat, although he had a sneaking suspicion that was caused solely by the discomfort in his stomach rather than any anxiety he was feeling.

The video was crudely made, but even then the view count was high. It was just a series of chopped together clips of different streams, each one followed by a clip of a teenager who stood in front of a white board explaining the reason as to why it was relevant. 

Chuuya quickly reached for his phone, dialing Ranpo’s number and placing the phone on speaker. He picked up on the first ring and Chuuya went straight to the point. 

“Has anyone posted anything about the video?”

Ranpo’s response was short and sweet, as always. “Kyouko got tagged in something and said that she wished you were because it’d make for the perfect enemies to lovers story, but nobody else has said anything at all. I warned them not to engage. The majority of the fandom seems to think the person is just another conspiracy theorist.”

Osamu turned to gag emptily into the bowl once more, spitting out a glob of mucus and cracker crumbs that found its place on his tongue. He heard Chuuya give a rushed explanation and moments later, his hair was being brushed back out of his face.

No matter how much he tried to relax his diaphragm, Osamu’s body didn’t seem to want to decide on a course of action. He sat there for ten minutes getting nothing but saliva, neither of them saying a word.

It was stupid.

His body was stupid.

Everything was stupid.

He wanted to die.

He moved the heating pad from his stomach to his lower back, still clutching the empty bowl. The muscles in his back and hips were strained from his hunched posture, and they at least seemed grateful for the heat. 

As Osamu dry heaved, Chuuya hit play on a three hour long video covering drama about people neither of them had ever heard of. 

It didn’t matter.

It was just background noise.

Osamu would most likely fall asleep within minutes regardless.

After far too long, Osamu’s esophagus relaxed enough that he felt comfortable moving the empty bowl to the bedside table. He curled up into Chuuya’s arms, melting into the gentle fingers massaging his scalp and mumbling wordlessly into his husband’s neck. He knew very well that he needed to address whatever was going on on Twitter before it imploded, but he really didn’t want to deal with his insane fanbase. 

Hopefully it’d just dissipate.

With that thought at the front of his mind, Osamu fell into a fitful sleep, followed very soon after by his husband.