Work Text:
He always knows when he’s begun a downward spiral, it’s a feeling of dread and weight over his shoulder that he can’t shake. He was always the first to know when it was coming.
That was, until he met Chuuya.
“You’re going into an episode, Dazai,” Chuuya says offhandedly one morning, keeping his eyes on the careful dish he’d been learning to make.
Oh, Dazai tilts his head as he thinks to himself, that’s what I’m feeling.
Instead he says, “I know.”
Dazai hadn’t paid much attention to himself recently. He also was early enough into the spiral that he couldn’t be sure of the signs, even if he was being vigilant. Chuuya just always had to show him up, that’s the problem. Even knowing his own mental health was a challenge!
A moment of silence passed before the slug barks at Dazai. He starts spewing eye-roll worthy things, like" you know?" and "can you not even get it together enough to try and stop it?"
Dazai’s dog was so loud, so dimwitted.
What a pain (read: lovely warm person).
The detective was just about ready to take his leave, and wander until he felt like going into the agency, when his wrist was grabbed. Before he could process the small bit of skin touching skin, the bathroom door slammed shut with him — and Chuuya — inside.
None of Chuuya’s hustle or picking around bothered Dazai much, so he just.. stayed still. His body didn’t really want to put in effort where it didn’t need to. Make the Chibi do it all, yeah?
“Bastard,” the man mumbles as he tests the temperature of the bath water running down the tub, “do it yourself.”
Despite his frankly silly mutters, Chuuya took it into his hands to gently peel Dazai’s night clothes off, seeing as he had yet to change for work. Whoops. Soon enough, the red head was tapping at the back of Dazai’s hand for a silent permission. The bandaged man nodded and froze further as his partner unravels what are probably week old bandages at this point, according the red of his rough skin.
Chuuya scoffs but says nothing. He guides the brunette into the almost-full bathtub. There are bubbles in it, and Dazai realizes this with a smile. After soaking for a bit — and dissociating, for all he didn’t notice — Chuuya pours a pitcher of water down his head, barely taking care to keep it out of Dazai’s eyes. The look the brunette gives the other only works to make him laugh and grin.
“Chuuya is so mean.”
“Chuuya is the only reason you won’t smell like fish today, asshole.”
It’s not long after when Chuuya is coaxing Dazai out of the now-cool water with a fluffy towel and a hair dryer. The brunette has nothing better to do but follow.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dazai between his feet on the floor and wrapped in a towel, Chuuya begins the blow out his partners wavy, calm head of hair. Meanwhile, the aforementioned partner hums his silly tunes under the cover of the hair dryer. His eyes are closed, and his body droops forward.
In the end, Chuuya Nakahara forces (read: lightheartedly drags) Osamu Dazai off to the gym, where he will be forced to do physical activity and encourage dopamine production — what little his body is capable of.
Dazai is not okay with this. Not at all.
(“Why can’t you people just let me succumb to the comfort of my depression?!”
“Wah, wah. I will shoot you with dopamine if it gets you out of those, freak.”
“Chuuya is so mean to me!”
“Exactly, now you can either tumble your heart out of I start throwing weights at you. Take your pick.”)