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When Dazai came to his senses, he felt a warm hand on the top of his head. Someone was carefully stroking his matted hair and in a few seconds, he understood that it was Kouyou.

Dazai carefully raised his head meeting Ozaki's soft look with a hint of worry.

"Any news?" Osamu grimaced because how dry his mouth was, but continued looking demanding at the woman.

Quietly, she pulled her hand away and shook her head, then looked at the doors of the surgery.

It was not a secret that Kouyou didn't like him, but she always was there in difficult situations. She never said anything, but her silence helped more than anything else. And her dislike didn't stop her from stroking his back or the top of his head, letting him lay on her lap. Anyway, he had many reasons to respect her.

Chuuya not only respected her, but also loved. You could see that in his gestures, words, looks, and his gentle "ane-san." In everything. And it was not surprising: she had been helping him all this time and continued to this day. The woman had the same warm feelings for him that were stronger, in Dazai's opinion.

The doors opened and a tall figure of Ougai appeared in the hallway. He jumped up almost swaying a bit, but Kouyou grabbed by his elbow.

"Careful," she said shortly, but her attention was only focused on Mori.

He didn't make them wait and headed toward them while taking off his bloody gloves. Dazai tried not to look at them.

"Everything is fine," it was strange that  they were relieved only because of those two words. Osamu inhaled trying to calm down his trembling knees. "Chuuya-kun is strong, he is great."

Strong, yeah. He almost died, bastard.

"Good," Ozaki whispered. She ran her hand over her face, stopping it on her eyes. "Good."

"Is he really fine?"

Ougai looked at him and Osamu noticed how tired his face was. The man stretched his neck and nodded. He then took off his robe and attentively looked over Dazai's figure.

"How are you?"

"Everything is ok," he answered. "I'm just exhausted."

"How many of our people died?"

"None," Osamu's gaze was cold, "He got them all out. Three people are injured."

There was still tension between them. You could cut it with a knife. Kouyou exhaled loudly, and Mori's eyes flashed with dark satisfaction.

"Can I go to him?"

The boss frowned, but Dazai stubbornly looked at him, not paying attention to his weak body.

"Not for long."

The mobster immediately hurried to the room, trying not to start running. The anxiety in his chest was left behind the door with Mori and Kouyou. All his attention was exclusively on the unconscious body.

Chuuya was very pale. There were ugly marks on his hands that would disappear in a few days. His face was covered with many scratches, and his once red, bright as a flame hair  lost all its color now. 

As far as he could remember, it was the second time Nakahara looked so...dead.

Dazai carefully sat on the chair, without looking away from the boy. Osamu quietly laughed and pressed his forehead to the bed. His cheek touched Nakahara's palm. He could barely feel the touch but nonetheless, he finally could breathe normally.

What was he doing here? He didn't think that Chuuya would be happy if he woke up and saw his partner's face. He imagined his frowned eyebrows and his nose wrinkled with displeasure. The image was so clear that he couldn't help but smirked.

Dazai was looking indifferently at how Chuuya's chest was rising and falling. He was not used to seeing him so relaxed. Chuuya's shoulders were tensed and his back was straight. Sometimes Dazai wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he was keeping Arahabaki? It was surprising, but Nakahara's ability was a sheer contradiction. It protected its host and was a part of him, but at the same time it was the most dangerous thing. Nothing but a mystery. Just like Nakahara Chuuya.

The silence finally stopped pressuring him. Dazai closed his eyes under his partner's quiet snoring.

His head was empty.

———
original by ddaaazai