The structure was still as ominous as ever. It didn't help the grim picture that he was standing in the middle of a storm. The thunder and lightning made his scars sting as a reminder of what had transpired inside of this church, many years ago.
But, he wasn't here for nostalgia.
He hobbled carefully towards the locked gates of the black-painted fence that protected the graveyard that surrounded the run-down church. Reaching into the pocket of the coat he had been relieved to find inside a locker in his hospital room, still held the old brass key he had received along with the letter.
Once again, like the week before, he turned the key in the rusted lock, with a bit more trouble. It released the chains keeping the gate together and it fell to the ground.
Dazai cursed under his breath at his failed attempted to catch it. The strain had been a little too much for his back, and now he would have to bend down to pick it up when he left. If he left.
Well, he would have to deal with that later.
He closed the gate behind him to the best of his ability with his limited movement, to not raise suspicion for anyone that would possibly venture by at this time at night. Idiots like himself.
The few steps up to the large wooden door also proved to be a challenge on his damaged body, but with a little bit of patience (that he truly didn't have right now), he managed to get up, only to be greeted by a very much bolted-up-door.
'No, why did he bolt it shut?' The familiar anger started to clutter his vision. Despite himself, he tried to knock.
"Hey!" He knocked harder. "Hey! Come on out, you... fuck!" His voice broke as his knocks against the door grew to desperate slams. With one hand. Then two. "You're such a fucking coward!" Crutches fell from armpits and landed on the stone flooring with two separate clangs. Instinctively, Dazai lowered his broken leg, bones still attached to the external fixation device, to keep his balance.
The amount of pain that shot from his leg through his entire body was inhumane. The moment his leg touched the ground, he collapsed. He couldn't keep himself from screaming out from the agonizing sensations of violent spasms, as he thrust on the ground in anger and hurt.
After some time, he was able to calm himself. He had finally managed to execute his stupidest stunt yet. Probably. It definitely was up there.
The rain was pouring, and every inch of the pitiful man was soaked. If the fall hadn't killed him, pneumonia was a pretty clear contender, right now. He needed to get out of this mess.
There was no way he could get up by himself. His back opposed to any movement he tried to make, and his leg seemed to have pinned itself stuck in a crack in the stones he was now, miserably lying on.
'I have to do it... I don't want to. But, it's not the best time to die right now. It would be rather inconvenient actually... God dammit!'
Painfully, he was able to reach to his pocket and retrieve his phone. Mindlessly scrolling through numbers until it came to a stop in the last part of 's'.
Slug.
Chuya's phone was ringing. It was in the middle of the night, and the high buzzing sound and a default ringtone woke him from a deep sleep. Hazy, blue eyes looked at the display, that said, Mackrell.
Nope.
He went back to sleep.
A few minutes later, his sleep was again interrupted. This time from a text message.
"Fucking bastard," he growled and picked up the phone to see what could possibly be so important that his mortal enemy would text him in the middle of the night. If it was another fucking cat playing the piano, he would (secretly be pretty amused) unleash his ultimate power on that stupid walking roll of toiletpaper and he didn't even care if he'd die if he could just...
- I need your help.
Chuya pressed his face brutally against his pillow.
He texted back and pressed send.
- Fuck you.
Then he turned around on his back, phone in hand and waited for some whiny and annoying response or some 'witty' reply with an invitation to do just that.
A couple of minutes went by. 10 minutes. 15.
Chuya rolled his eyes and sighed. 'Great, now I'm getting worried.'
He reluctantly opened the message again and texted.
- Where?
A couple of moments went by before his phone rang. Chuya pressed on the accept button so fast that he got embarrassed for a moment, before placing the phone to his ear.
"What? Why in the hell are you calling me in the middle of the night! I swear to God, if you're not already dying, I'll personally make sure that you-"
"I might be dying," Dazai's hoarse voice cut him off.
Chuya kept silent, a bit set back by the deadpanned reply. A guttural cough was heard in the other end.
Chuya let out a deep breath. "Where are you, bastard?"
"Church." Was all he said before the connection got cut.
"Church...? No, no, no. Dazai? Dazai!" Chuya looked furiously on the screen of his phone and tried to dial back, He waited. No reply.
"Fuck, Dazai, you stupid..." he sneered to himself and got up from the bed, pulling on the first clothes he could find and sprinted out the door.
The big black landrover was almost comically opposite its small red-haired owner. There was nothing comical about his expression of absolute terror though, as he sped through the dark street towards the church that he usually planned his trips to avoid at all costs.
He was about to pass it before he stepped on the brakes, and he jerked forward, being stopped by the seatbelt. The rain was pouring down so heavily at this point, that he could hardly see through the windows. He opened the car door and ran outside.
He saw him. Dazai was lying on the ground, right outside the door. 'What the fuck is he even doing here? '
The gate was slightly open, so he had no problems with pushing past it. He looked wearily to each side, as he jogged the couple of feet between the gate and steps.
"What are you doing, you scrawny idiot?" he tried calling out, hoping to get a response.
He didn't.
Shit.
He kneeled by the limp man's side.
"Hey, Dazai. Come on." He slapped his cheek tryingly. His cheeks were so cold. Chuya looked him over quickly, only then noticing the metal sticking out of his left leg.
"Jesus Christ, you really are an idiot," he mumbled.
Dazai was still holding his phone, and Chuya took it from his hand to make sure it wasn't already broken from all the water. To his surprise it lit up when he touched the screen, only to realize that it was a message for him there, that he apparently hadn't been able to send before falling unconscious.
No hospital
Hatrack :-)
"You rather took the time to... fucking bastard."
In spite of his moderate size, Chuya was more than strong enough to carry Dazai from the car to his dormitory. There was no way in hell that he would show him where he lived.
Chuya was a man with a plan. He had already found Dazai's keys while in the car, and without too much struggle he retrieved the right one and locked them inside.
He didn't bother to show the courtesy of taking off his shoes before grimy loafers stepped inside, aqua eyes scanning his surroundings.
Dazai had a modest apartment. It was a small kitchen corner with an island for eating, a brown leather coach placed to face an old-looking bookcase and a kotatsu in the opposite corner. A sliding door
lead into what Chuya understood was the bedroom and lifted Dazai inside.
The bedroom was even more modest, only decorated with a futon and a small dresser.
Chuya walked across the wooden floor and carefully placed the passed out man on the bed, lifting the blanket up and threw it on top of him.
Then he stood up and looked around. There really wasn't much to look at. The dresser had endless boxes and rolls of bandages on top of it, and a pair of glasses. Chuya chuckled and lifted them up, trying them on.
"God, Dazai. When did you go blind?" He proceeded to squint around the room, realizing that there wasn't a single mirror. Of course, there wasn't.
Chuya placed the spectacles back onto the dresser before he heard something stir behind him.
He turned to look at Dazai, now with eyes half-lidded, peering up at him.
"Look who finally decided to wake up. Pretty conveniently after I've struggled to carry him up the stairs."
"Just wanted you to finally carry me over the threshold, chibi," the weak voice snickered, before letting out a painful sigh. "Chuya, would you mind handing me some clothes from the dresser. Whatever's fine."
"Glad you're finally ready to listen to my fashion advice."
"If I wanted to join the circus, perhaps."
Chuya opened the first drawer. The only thing laying there was a grey cotton shirt and a pair of black joggers.
"You literally have one shirt and one pair of pants."
Dazai shrugged and forced himself to sit upright with his teeth clenched. After a short break dedicated to catching his raspy breath, he started to take off his soaked jacket.
Chuya turned with the clothes in his arms, first now noticing that Dazai was wearing a hospital gown. With the back showing, he could see that the ties in the back had come undone, and the soaked bandages underneath had started to loosen.
"Did you... escape from a hospital or something?"
"Yeah," Dazai mumbled and disposed of his gown. The bandages were completely loose now, and Chuya could clearly see the familiar disfigured back. The scarring that embroidered every inch of Dazai's upper body.
Dazai couldn't reach around to cover it back up. His fractured spine made his movements very limited, and he had realized that it just wasn't going to happen.
Chuuya noticed the fresh surgical scar on the middle of his back.
«I can't reach,» Dazai said silently, but suddenly turning his face towards Chuuya with a cheeky grin. «Hah, must be nice hearing someone else say that for once.»
Chuuya snorted but finally chipped his shoes off, returned to the dresser to pick up some new bandages and crouched behind his former friend, giving him a slap across the head and not holding anything back.
Reaching for a piece of gauze, he peeled off the protective layer and carefully placed it along the scar.
«Do I even need to ask what happened?» he mumbled, reaching for a set of bandages on his right.
«I didn't try to kill myself,» Dazai answered with a faint smile.
«Really? Are you telling me that you're finally maturing?»
«Tch, never.»
Chuuja continued his work in silence, covering every little blemish on Dazai's back, as he knew he needed.
«Are you in pain?» he finally asked.
«I'm fine,» Dazai sighed.
«That bad, huh?»
A melancholic smile appeared on Dazai's face. Chuya had always been able to read him like a book. He probably knew him better than he knew himself.
«There, is it okay?» Chuya asked, fastening the last piece of the bandage.
«Sure. Thank you, Chuya,» Dazai hesitated and turned to face Chuuya. «So, about today...»
«Yeah, I'm kinda curious. Spit it out, patchy.»
«He's back.»
"Fuck... Yeah, I kinda figured. And I'm guessing it has everything to do with your sorry-ass-state?"
Dazai didn't answer. Chuya sighed.
«I need alcohol. Do you have any wine?»
«Aren't you driving?»
Chuya shot back with a stare, telling him not to go there.
«In the kitchen cabinet. Do you mind bringing me some sake?»
«Aren't you on pain medications?»
Dazai gave him a stare, telling him not to go there right back.
This was such a fun chapter to write! I love the connection between these two, and it's so much fun to play around with! This story has a bit more readers on Archive of our own, but I will keep uploading it to here too.