One step ahead
.
Chuuya doesn't really listen as the doctor reads the list of his injuries aloud. At this point, terms like internal bleeding, bone fissure or concussion have no longer effect on him, so he doesn't bother to pay attention; his gaze follows the IV inserted into the back of his hand, trying to find out which bag the fluid comes from, but his eyelids droop closed before he can see it.
He already got the important part: he'll recover.
He always recovers.
Therefore his wounds don't matter.
Chuuya already knows the speech by heart (now comes the part about resting and not pushing himself too much), so he searches for his voice to interrupt and ask for a damn painkiller. He is not one to complain often, but it's been long since he felt like this, as if flames flew through his veins scorching his every nerve ending. Hell, he can't even breathe without a thousand needles piercing his lungs.
It's been four years.
Long enough to start forgetting what using Corruption feels like.
The order sounds squeaky when Chuuya finally manages to speak, but luckily the doctor considers his glare threatening enough even though he literally can't even sit up. Watching the man rushing out of the room improves Chuuya's mood the tiniest bit.
He has yet to tell Mori he failed to retrieve Q and maybe mention that Lovecraft doesn't need an ability to turn into a monster, that he would have easily killed both Dazai and him had he not used Corruption, but that can wait.
Chuuya closes his eyes as he hears the doctor's steps coming back, tries to think about something that isn't related to Dazai as the drug flows into his blood stream, hoping it begins to kick in soon.
And he fails.
As the man walks out once more, this time to leave him alone for at least a few hours, Chuuya grits his teeth and closes his hands into fists. It sort of goes against his previous wish for numbness, but he can't help it.
He's angry. He was angry last night, when Dazai took longer than necessary to grab his arm and do the only thing he's useful for. He was angry shortly before dawn, when he woke up alone and cold and in pain in the middle of the forest. He was angry with every step he took to get back to the Port Mafia headquarters.
Part of his wrath is like an old friend– Corruption has that effect on him, tempts him with hunger for reality itself, reminds him she is the one with the reins. When his ability takes over his will, Chuuya is reduced to a child crying in the darkness that overflows his whole being, still attempting to regain some semblance of control over his actions even after having been proven it's useless countless times throughout the years; and all he has afterwards is bile and blood in his mouth out of sheer helplessness because he hates it but he will never be able to change that fact.
The other part, though…
Chuuya's breathing hitches.
Last night he put his life in the hands of someone who doesn't like him, whom he doesn't like either, after more than four years without even dreaming of doing so. Because he might not have Dazai's privileged mind to think up elaborated battle strategies, but he supposed his former partner wouldn't just let him destroy everything and himself, even if the only reason to do so was that he had nothing to gain from it.
And Dazai is not a nice person, no matter how much effort he puts into pretending to be a good guy now, but several lines were crossed last night and Chuuya shudders despite the room being warm.
Because last night, as he kept wreaking havoc in the forest after defeating the monster and couldn't discern Dazai in the darkness he was drowning in, Chuuya was more scared than he had been in a long time.
He started to think Dazai had left. Because his former partner might not directly kill him, but getting distracted, reaching for him a second too late– officially, that would be just a tragic accident. And Dazai wouldn't even have to pretend to feel bad about it.
Chuuya opens his eyes again, almost regrets asking for painkillers when he feels his eyelids too heavy to keep them apart for long. He definitely doesn't like anything other than himself deciding over his body.
And yet…
And yet.
Yet last night Dazai convinced him too easily. With valid reasons, no less. He was right; had Corruption not been their only hope to get rid of Lovecraft, Dazai wouldn't have suggested it. Not like Dazai ever suggests anything; whenever he voices his thoughts he knows they are going to be taken into account. He never actually gave Chuuya a choice.
Not even before leaving.
So maybe it's Chuuya's own fault, for deluding himself into believing Dazai has somehow grown into a slightly decent person.
But it's not like he could do anything else.
Chuuya exhales a low whine. He is aware his thoughts are becoming repetitive and will lead him nowhere, but he's resentful and he hates everything about Dazai and how he's always one step ahead of him.
He always knows what to say, what to do in a fight (which means sitting back and ordering Chuuya around because being clever is about everything Dazai can do); and, on top of it, Chuuya's life depends on his ability. Hell, Chuuya is well aware the Port Mafia didn't lose just Dazai the night he left: they lost Dazai and Chuuya's most useful form.
No matter how much he hates Dazai; without him, Chuuya's worth is the same as any average ability user. All he can ever do is trusting Dazai, even if his trust is made of pieces of resentment and anger and helplessness because he would have died so many times had it not been for his former partner but it never feels like something he should be grateful for.
His hand moves up, lands on his chest; it doesn't weigh as much as the invincible fist pushing down. Chuuya gasps for air, tries to make himself lighter to get rid of the asphyxiating feeling; but either he has completely lost control over his ability or the source of the problem is more mundane. His eyelids prickle and burn and Chuuya tries to blink the itch away, focuses on the IV again as he rubs at his chest, hoping it stops soon.
It's over, he tells himself, over and over again like a prayer. The alliance with the Agency lasted only for the last night; Dazai is about as willing as him to work together again. It's over.
Eventually Chuuya slips into an empty, drug-induced sleep. When he wakes up he'll probably be in pain again.
But at least it won't stop being over.
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