Dazai was already lying on the futon by the time Chuuya got in. He was too stiff, his lanky form stretched out with his back to the door, face to the wall, almost radiating with tension.
Chuuya sighed. “Did you even get patched up?”
Dazai didn’t answer.
It had been a hard enough fight and Dazai had never been good at self-care.
Chuuya hung up his jacket and his hat and changed into one of Dazai’s overlong shirts. He glanced over Dazai’s body for any major injuries. Finding none, he curled his body around his partner’s until finally Dazai relaxed.0