#oooof i almost missed the week's prompts and general existence bc i have a ship tagged on the post blacklisted

[astxlphe]

Dazai Spring Multiship week 2020 @dazaimultishipweek

Umbrella // Dazaku / daaku

CW blood and injuries.

Guess who didn’t notice the week had already started until yesterday? 

So, we’re technically day 4, but here is day 2. If I do several days they’ll probably be out of order anyway.

It feels like a mess of a story too. 

It’s raining and Akutagawa is tired.

He stumbles in an alley, away from the crowded main street, to avoid being noticed.  

Blood seeps through his clothes and Rashomon tries, in vain, to contain it all. The wounds are deep, deeper than he thought they would be, and every single one of his muscle aches.

His opponent lost, in the end, but not without doing some damage themself. Every move sends pain all the way through his bones, and the rain doesn’t help, soaking him, mixing with the blood, making it drip on the ground.

It makes him want to scream with frustration. Even the weather is against him.  

He’s lost his phone in the fight too, broken beyond repair then fallen in the river, so he can’t call for Gin to come pick him up.

Nothing can possibly be worse than this, than bleeding out on the street, drenched, with no way of contacting the only person he trusts blindly to get him out of a tight spot.

He’s really down on his luck, lately.

His vision swims, and he stumbles again, catching himself against the wall. There are footsteps somewhere near him, and he tries to call on Rashomon. The beast rises, but the newcomer doesn’t react.

They feel familiar, spots of brown and beige. Akutagawa’s head hurts, he can’t see properly, can’t tell who it is.

The newcomer stands in front of him.

“Oh my, looks like someone did a number of you!” he says in a faux-cheerful tone which Akutagawa immediately recognize. “Did you meet Atsushi-kun on a grocery run again?”  

Scratch that, there is worse, and it’s bleeding out on the street, drenched, with no way of contacting the only person he trusts blindly to get him out of a tight spot and with Dazai Osamu as only company.

He tries to stand straighter, tries to hide the sorry state he’s in. His stomach reflexively twists in fear because even though the man has changed, the Dazai he knows isn’t kind in the face of weakness and Akutagawa is very aware of how utterly pathetic he is right now.

“Dazai-san—”

“That rain probably isn’t helping,” Dazai goes on. He takes a step forward and the rain stops falling.

Glancing up, Akutagawa sees the umbrella in the man’s hand, opened above his head.

“So? What happened?” The curiosity seems almost real.

Akutagawa wants to answer, but his knees buckles and his legs can't keep him upright anymore. Dazai moves, free arm wrapping around him, not fast enough to keep his knees from hitting the ground. He hisses in pain, falling forward.

Dazai crouches and fumbles with his coat buttons, and he wants to push him off, he doesn’t want him to see, but Rashomon has already faded under his touch.

The man stares, quiet, at the bloody shirt, for several seconds. “The wounds are rather severe.” His smile has disappeared.

Akutagawa’s face flushes and he looks away, embarrassed.

“Who did this?” Dazai asks, fingers skimming over a bleeding cut on his face. It’s not mere curiosity anymore. His tone is colder, eyes darker and, Akutagawa notices, he isn’t angry at him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Akutagawa manages to say. He smiles, though it probably looks more like a grimace, showing off bloodied teeth, in an attempt to save face, maybe. “I won.”

“You haven’t won if you die so soon afterwards, stupid boy.” The words should have been cutting, full of contempt, but they’re said with something that sounds like fondness.  Dazai gathers him against his chest with a gentleness he doesn’t remember him having. “You need medical attention.”

“It’ll heal on its own.”

“Non, It won’t.” The umbrella above them swings lightly as Dazai shakes his head.

Akutagawa stares at it. It’s not black, like he expected, it’s transparent, and droplets of water run on it like he’s covered with an invisible dome.

Dazai’s hand is off him now, the man busy with his phone. “I’ll call Yosano for you.”

“I’m fine,” Akutagawa insist, “I’m strong enough to—” He coughs and his whole body shudders in protest. Dazai ignores him, obviously seeing through the lie. He isn’t sure why Dazai is doing this. He should be mad at him for being so weak in front of him.

He talks for a bit. I can’t move him, he hears. Heavy blood loss. He gives their location and hangs up, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“The person who did this to you,” Dazai says casually as they wait, “are they dead?”

“No.” Dazai stays quiet at his answer, and Akutagawa adds, just so he knows he hasn’t been cheating, that he has been like Nakajima wishes him to: “I have not killed in eight months.”

“Eight months?” Dazai repeats. “Really?”

Killing doesn’t feel as natural as it used to. It used to put him in a bad mood, avoiding killing, because it brought unnecessary limitations to his fighting.

He nods. His brain bounces in his skull.

Dazai hums, still holding tight on the umbrella. It seems so foolish to Akutagawa, for him to shield him from the rain like this. Being soaked isn’t painful, merely an added inconvenience to his wounds, yet he still insists on doing it.

The man could easily leave him here and wait somewhere he wouldn’t be cold and wet. And for some reason, he wants to spare him the discomfort.

A hand is running through his hair and Akutagawa’s instincts scream at him to slap that it away, to prove to himself and to Dazai that he can still stand on his own, that he’s still in shape to fight whatever opponent they point him at.  

But it’s soothing; the warmth it creates in his chest almost letting him forget the chill the running water got into his bones.

He can hear it, Dazai’s frantic heartbeat, feel the slight trembling of his fingers as they pet his hair, and he can almost dream the man cares about him as much as Akutagawa does.

If he dies like this, he doesn’t mind it.

Dark spots cloud his vision. It’s his whole body that shakes now, and he has trouble breathing.

“Akutagawa-kun,” Dazai says, tone half-joking, half-serious. He leans his head towards him and presses his lips to his forehead. “While I’m very glad you are keeping up with the no killing rule, this isn’t why I asked. Now, I’m going to need a name.”

“A—”

He coughs. Static fills his ears and he barely has the time to see Dazai’s strangely panicked face before he goes under.

+

Dazai waits for Akutagawa to wake up.

After Yosano’s arrival, after she did her work, they carried him back to the agency, causing a great upheaval in the office, no one expecting them to walk in with an unconscious mafioso.

The president, thankfully, broke up the commotion and ordered for Akutagawa to be carried to the infirmary.

Now that his life isn’t in danger anymore, Dazai can relax.

He closes his eyes, trying to pull himself back together. The sudden, unexpected fear clawing at his guts as he collapsed, as Dazai realized he grossly underestimated the extent of his injuries. The overwhelming relief washing over him when Yosano arrived. All of this settles down, deep under a layer of cheerful smiles.

His fingers still card through his hair, until Akutagawa’s face scrunches up. Yosano stands as he stirs. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She does just that, closing the door being her.

When Akutagawa opens his eyes, Dazai grins. “Look at you,” he says cheerfully. “All fixed up!”

“Where—” He pushes himself in sitting position and reaches out, looking for something — probably his coat, it’s thrown on a chair, next to Dazai’s own, stained with the boy’s blood.

“The Agency’s infirmary,” Dazai answers before he finishes his question. “Yosano wanted to leave you on the side of the road but, well, I said no.”

He’s avoiding the subject, he knows it.

Akutagawa looks away. “You saved my life.” It’s said with such reluctant gratitude Dazai almost cringes.  

“I won’t be here next time.” The words come out harsher than he means them to, and they’re a lie as well. Dazai will be here to keep him alive if he can help it, though before he needs Akutagawa to understand. “You need to take a better care of yourself, you know?”

It’s rich, coming from someone who constantly talks of committing suicide, but the boy needs to know, needs to learn, that he isn’t allowed to die. 

Akutagawa doesn’t look concerned at all, and Dazai wants to stand, anger rising in his chest, and slap the bullshit out of him, to teach him to be such an irresponsible idiot.

He doesn’t.

Breathe in, breathe out. He’s not mad at Akutagawa, he just wants to the boy to have some sense. He lowers his hand, resting it on top of Akutagawa’s head instead, who stares up.

And Dazai tries to hide it all, to hide the fear and the worry. He doesn’t know if he’s successful. Whatever he sees on his face is enough for Akutagawa to change his mind.

“I will try,” he tells him, and Dazai hopes he’s just not trying to placate him. “I should probably go.”

“You should.” He tilts his head towards the folded clothes at the foot of the bed. “Your shirt was ruined, so this is one of mine. It might be a little big, but it’ll do.”

Once he’s dressed, Dazai hands him his coat and walks with him to the bottom of the stairs leading to the office. It’s obvious that everyone else is starring, and that Atsushi is barely containing himself from asking Akutagawa if he’s okay.

He grabs his umbrella on the way out. It’s still raining, after all.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Akutagawa says, bowing slightly. “And thank your doctor on my behalf as well.”

His tone is clipped and as blank as he can, pulling back the walls between them. It hurts, a bit. Dazai can’t hold it against him.

“I will.”  

He hands him the umbrella without a word, and Akutagawa accepts it. They stare at each other for a long time and Dazai thinks it’s slightly unfair that even with his walls up, he can still easily read what Akutagawa feels in his eyes.

The blind adoration is gone, replaced by something different that makes him feel like he’s looking at a mirror.

It’s not like he can’t place a word on his feelings. He knows, how could he possibly not be aware of it? It’s seeing it spelled out on Akutagawa’s face that throws him off.

“You still haven't told me who I must see about this.” He says it lightly, like a joke.

“No one. They aren’t a bother anymore.”

They’re not dead, but they’re either dying, or in such a terrible state they won’t be thinking of doing anything for a long time, then.

“If you’re sure.” He sighs. “Don’t die while my back is turned.” This is probably the closest to a confession he’s ever going to get.

Neither of them is quite ready to hear it said out loud.

Akutagawa nods and opens the umbrella, stepping out in the rain, walking away. “I’ll bring it back later.” He frowns. “And don’t die either.”