Baby executive

Chapter 18

Chuuya couldn't dream, he had never been able to, but that didn't mean that giving in to the void of sleep was any less easy with hazed memories clawing at his mental barriers.

He was forced to become accustomed to the crippling migraines. They happened often times when he was stressed, it weakened his mental fortitude causing Arahabaki to cause a ruckus inside of his mind.

There was nothing he could do.

The only time he had felt relief from the chains of Arahabaki was a moment he remembered clearly. When Dazai had touched him for the first time on the side of his neck. The feeling was almost indescribable. It was a cool touch like the cool breeze soothing his system, freeing him from the lingering presence of the god in the back of his mind.

Sometimes his neck still tingled.

But there were also cons to that. He wouldn't ask this Dazai for anything, Chuuya could live with the migraines just as he did on the streets with the sheep because with just one touch his ability would be gone. And no matter how good of a fighter Chuuya may be, Dazai was now twenty-two and had a good foot on him.

So he chose to ignore Arahabaki and not give the god the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.

So Chuuya had burrowed into the large bed (one of the largest ones he had ever seen. Sometimes even in the Port Mafia where he owned a bed, he would rather sleep on the couch because he was so used to the harsh sleeping conditions of the streets.) and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for sleep to finally overcome him and free him from the fevered thrum in his head.

But as Chuuya had established, he was plunged into a dreamless sleep, but unfortunately, hazed memories still existed even in his realm of sleep.

They flashed behind his eyelids, dim lights of a glinting scalpel and a knife coated with rat poison and treachery passed by in a fevered haze.

Until he finally emerged from the harsh tide of those memories, gasping for breath and clawing at the sheets for stability as he calmed his breathing.

He could barely think past the sledgehammer sensation banging against his skull. Chuuya tried to roll out of bed and get some water to soothe his desert-dry tongue and another handful of Advil, but his leaden limbs refused to work with him.

Chuuya's breath felt like it had been stolen from his lungs, so calling for idiot Dazai wasn't an option.

But it was fine, he could deal with a sickness, he had seen many people get sick on the streets and emerge with stronger immune systems. And for the people who didn't survive...

Chuuya knew how to survive on his own.

Soon enough he was pulled back into the riptide of fevered memories, body giving into its exhaustion and falling limp.

—-

Dazai was awoken around three in the morning. At first, he had startled awake, not exactly sure what had pulled him out of a good slumber he was for once having in his life.

Though the irritation and confusion were quickly wiped away when he heard it, a scream ripped from a raw throat.

The sound would haunt Dazai and chase him into his dreams. It was like a cornered animal, wounded and driven crazy with survival. Chuuya's screams had always been this horrid when corruption took place, and of course, late into the night. Dazai always ignored the screaming when they were younger, yet another sign of weakness he thought would drag him down.

Dazai wanted to chuckle darkly. He had been a coward, a scared little kid afraid of feelings.

Dazai had to make a choice here. Ignore the screaming and leave Chuuya to fend for himself just as he used to do. Chuuya wouldn't question it because that was what he was used to.