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Thunder roars outside the warehouse, making the little redhead jump involuntarily, hugging his favorite— and only— teddy bear to his chest. He’s frightened of thunderstorms, it reminds him of the time when he was completely alone on the streets, with no one to protect him from the sudden loud bangs of the sky. Now he’s 13, but it’s still the same...
“You’re a man right?”
“Can’t even punch a dude.”
“Look he even has a little teddy bear!”
“Why are you crying?”
“Be a man.”
Next year, he’ll change. He’ll throw away that stupid teddy bear. He’ll beat the shit out of everyone. He’ll do whatever a man does. Just to be loved.
Accepted.
Everyone cries sometimes. It's a good way to release the feelings you keep bottling up. Dazai does it sometimes. Occasional tears are shed in the darkness of the night when his thought wanders the wrong way; it's okay to just cry it out.
But in Chuuya's case... He avoids crying entirely. It's a sign of weakness, vulnerability.
Big boys don’t cry .
Chuuya doesn't want that. He wants to stay strong .
Chuuya doesn’t address his emotions even when it hurts him. When someone asks him how he's feeling, he replies with a slight smile and an,“I’m doing fine.” for reassurance that, yes , he’s fine. But in reality, he's exhausted.
Normally, he could hold it in for months, letting it all out in one big sob under the covers of his bed until he forces himself to stop. But he can't do that anymore, since Dazai, his husband, started living with him.
It’s not entirely bad. His— their home started living up to its name instead of just being an occasional shelter from the constant bustling of the outside world. Coming home to see the brunette in the kitchen finally teaching himself how to cook and not just live off of canned foods was one of the reasons. The canned foods, which Chuuya despises just for quickly mentioning their existence. Dazai thinks it’s worth it when he sees the satisfaction in Chuuya’s eyes, as if Chuuya didn’t burn the food and go all Gordon Ramsay on the poor brunette. Which, in fact, only happened once .
Coming home late to see Dazai dozing off on the couch, sometimes with a book in hand, oftentimes watching some slice of life comedy show on their big widescreen TV. made it more tolerable but the pain never stopped entirely. We all have our depressive episodes, for Dazai— even if it’s rare now—it still happens.
And whenever he does, Chuuya is there to comfort him, letting the taller man quietly sob into his chest whenever they cuddle. Chuuya stroking Dazai's head, offering words of comfort even though he’s never exactly been good with words. But he's trying his best.
And it isn’t like Chuuya talks about his problems, he rants constantly to Dazai about whatever pisses him off. A nosy co-worker? Line taking too long? Dazai’s fashion sense? All of it, Chuuya barks about it angrily. But all of those are basic, mundane things he experiences almost every day.
Dazai knows that Chuuya loves him, there’s no denying that. It’s always there, always present, and Chuuya knows Dazai loves him the same... But Chuuya can’t help but doubt, drowning himself in self-loathing.
There’s always a voice in the dark, cold corner of his mind. It only comes out when he has nothing else to do but think. A daily reminder of who he really is, how he’s not exactly human.
A monster.
He tries his best to fit in with everybody. Tries to do what the norm is so people won't view him as anything less human, even though no one would dare to view him as such. He can't help but listen to the degrading voice in the back of his head.
Chuuya grew up in the Sheep, being lectured that boys couldn't cry. That boys could only do boy things. And if you showed anything feminine, you'd get frowned upon by society. He doesn't want that. So he carried with that fear of rejection.
Even though it's not really him.
The sunlight beams through the gaps of the thick curtains onto his closed eyes, allowing them to slowly blink awake.
The other side of their bed is still warm. Dazai has a tendency to wake up early, either to gaze lovingly at his lover's sleeping (which is most of the time), or by rare circumstances to make them breakfast. Dazai has learned to cook a few foods for their sake, and because Chuuya has had enough of Dazai almost burning down his kitchen for the umpteenth time. This morning was the latter. The savory smell of bacon and pancakes are floating in the morning breeze, invading Chuuya's nose as his stomach rumbles with hunger.
Chuuya rolls over to Dazai's side of the bed, bringing with him his pillow he's been hugging ever since he woke up. Just simply breathing in his scent and enjoying the time the universe lets him have where he can be a side of himself.
With a few shaking breaths. Chuuya finally manages to lift himself out of bed, his messy hair tangling all over his face. It's getting longer, almost reaching his shoulders—
He should cut it.
His eyes are heavy, his mind is a continuous loop of a static TV, unable to explain why he feels like going back to bed, curling up in a ball, and hiding underneath the covers. Chuuya just woke up, why is he already emotionally drained?
“Coffee?” Dazai greets him from over the kitchen island, his own cup of coffee in hand. It’s a rarity if their off days align, so both of them treasure the time where they can sit back, relax, and indulge in each other’s presence.
Chuuya nods, “Just coffee?” he adds, opting to sit on the opposite side of where Dazai is. The redhead can barely reach the counter, it being just below his chest "Chibi has zero taste," Dazai half-heartedly sighs, handing over Chuuya's cup of coffee—no sugar, no creamer, just plain coffee—with a kiss to the redhead's noise, "Good morning, love."
Chuuya hums, unable to help the smile that's peeking out of his mouth, "Good morning, mackerel."
His morning is going fine, despite Chuuya waking up all groggy, he can just push those thoughts to the side again. His mind can be evil sometimes, whispering unwelcome thoughts that are permanently etching their ways into his mind.
Telling him the consequences— his fears of what will happen if he does something the outside world deems as out of character for the redhead.
He woke up shitty and life is gonna make him stay shitty. It was just a small, simple, everyday mistake. But for the redhead…
It's a huge one.
Chuuya drops his mug. His entire being is still fatigued; his hand giving up on him and accidentally grabbing the side of the mug instead of the handle makes it even worse. Chuuya doesn’t think to activate his ability before the mug shatters on the wooden floor. He doesn’t even process it until he sees the shocked look on Dazai's face— which the redhead mistakes as disappointment — and feeling the faint burn on his skin from his shirt obviously stained with a streak of spilled coffee.
He didn't think about using his ability, it just went by so fast he wouldn’t have known it happened if it weren't for Dazai getting up to probably scold him for his mistake.
He hates me now.
I deserve it.
Chuuya never hears the call of his name. All he hears is the constant ringing in his ear, telling him that he's a failure of a man, a person, a human being.
"Chuuya!"
Said man flinched, fighting back the tears threatening to escape the corner of his eyes. He already made one mistake, he can't do that again.
"I'm sorry," Chuuya chokes out. He wants to curl up into the tiniest ball imaginable, to disappear from everyone's eyes only for just a moment. The redhead feels warmth all over his body now. Dazai is wrapping his hands around the petite boy, hugging him tightly to his chest.
"I'm sorry," Chuuya repeats again, his hands gripping onto Dazai's shirt, as if releasing it could almost kill him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—" Chuuya repeats, voice shattering to pieces , each line gut-wrenchingly painful to hear.
"Ssshhh, love. There's nothing to be sorry about, it's okay." Dazai reassures him gently, patting Chuuya's hair, his hold on him tight as he moves the both of them far away from the shattered mug.
Eventually, they both ended up on the sofa. Chuuya curled up in Dazai's lap, allowing a fluffy blanket to hide himself. Dazai laid comforting kisses on the redhead's hair while rubbing his back as more quiet sobs and sniffles escaped Chuuya’s lips.
Dazai opted to give his shirt as a replacement for Chuuya's stained one, leaving it in the laundry basket and grabbing a blanket and a glass of water for his chibi. The brunette didn't put on a new shirt to wear himself because of ‘ priorities’, and the combination of his bandages with the warmth of Chuuya’s body heat is enough for him.
And so they snuggled together on the couch. Dazai has always known Chuuya to be more than what he shows to the world. Once, he accidentally stepped in on Chuuya doing some kind of tip-toed pigeon-tailed princess act.
Dazai did laugh, of course he would — he’s still sorry for it — who wouldn't be laughing their ass off when they see the most skilled martial artist of the Port Mafia acting like a damsel in distress in front of a mirror?
Chuuya instantly noticed Dazai's presence and got down to his knees and pleaded, begging with tearful, desperate sobs for Dazai to never speak a word about it.
Dazai, awe-struck, eyeing the redhead practically clinging to his pants, doesn't see the Chuuya which he grew up with. Rather, a lost boy who never got the time to discover himself.
Dazai doesn't question it and lets the redhead sob on his chest instead. And 9 years later, married and happy, here they are again.
As soon as Dazai hears that Chuuya is just letting small sniffles, he asks again, "Chuuya?" The blanket did an obvious flinch, Chuuya retreating into the blanket more to hide it.
They never discussed it, with Chuuya consistently avoiding the question and averting the topic whenever it comes up. But now he's in Dazai's arms, and the brunette deserves answers.
"You must hate me now..." comes the hushed whisper from the redhead.
"What? Why would I—?"
"I'm—" He begins to sob again, "I'm supposed to be strong —" a man , "b-but I—"
You’re Pathetic.
Before Chuuya had time to react, his face was squished on the brunette's naked but bandaged chest, a soft laugh resonating from above. As he was about to question what the fuck was so funny, Dazai spoke up. "Chuuya~ you don't have to act strong all the time. You can be soft too! You're still a man." Dazai pats his petite husband’s head softly. He says it in such a soothing, comforting manner that it's almost a crime not to listen when his lover is trying his best to provide his redhead with comfort.
Chuuya is lucky to hear it every day, when Dazai is unexpectedly humming melodies, bringing him the comforting feeling of security. And Dazai dragging in Chuuya to come sing with him, it makes Chuuya fall in love again, he can't really get enough of it.
"There's no harm in being yourself." Both of Dazai's hands end up on the sides of Chuuya's cheeks, squishing them and making the redhead look at him in the eye. Letting Chuuya know he's serious, that everything he's saying is dipped in genuine honesty, he whispers, "Just be you, Chuuya."
Chuuya's heart leaps, his breath stuck on his throat as he buries himself deeper into Dazai's arms.
"Dumbass..." Chuuya mutters shyly. He's more vulnerable in these moments when he's the one being comforted, and Dazai can't help but snort.
"Oh? Do you want me to list all the reasons why I love you again?"
Chuuya lightheartedly punches his husband on the chest, " Absolutely not!" he sputters, cheeks red. Dazai laughs at Chuuya's reaction. His laugh being contagious, the redhead ends up laughing with him.
They're both stupidly in love idiots.
"So," Dazai wipes off the tears at the corner of Chuuya’s eyes, "Wanna watch a movie?"
Chuuya does the same with his own tears, "A movie sounds great, Osamu." He leans up to give the brunette a soft kiss on the lips, whispering a quiet but sincere thank you before giving his husband a big , equally sincere hug. Dazai just sighs affectionately for the chibi in his arms and hugs back.
"I love you too, Chuuya."
It isn't like Chuuya isn't strong, he is. But sometimes he just wants to be taken care of. Sometimes he just wants to enjoy being cuddled, to be drowned in a million stuffed animals and fluffy pillows. Now— with finally telling Dazai— he feels as if a weight has been lifted off his chest.
Even then, it would still be hard for the redhead to address his needs before beating himself up because of the guilt he feels for not being a man all the time. It's better than nothing right?
It's better than being a monochrome of yourself instead of letting the true colors shine through. Even if one person knows who he really is, it's enough for Chuuya. Maybe he can start opening up to others close to him. Not right now though, maybe some other time.
He'll still be the bratty, confident, and hardworking Chuuya that he's always been. It's tiring , sure. To live up to others’ expectations of what being a man is.
But hey...
Boys will be bugs, right?