dysurgical

scalpel

TW: self harm, suicide, gore descriptions???

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v v v

osamu had a sinister look about him at this current moment, his eyes full of questions and excitment meeting almost porcelain features accompanied by gorgeous dark blue eyes that could make somebody tense up in awe.
their "relationship" was complicated too say the least, neither of them were ever attracted to the idea of caring for each other on an emotional level before a few weeks ago, it was a moving experience to put it plainly, though one they wouldnt forget and often jerk awake hugged in a cold sweat due to the pure trauma of the so called "incident", chuuya remembers it well since dazai seemed to be unconscious for most of that hysteria filled night. 2 weeks and 3 days ago to be exact, chuuya had received calls from an unknown number- this wasnt unusual for him, due to having many rivals and common out-of-hour callout missions when he was needed. though after answering begrudgingly and being welcomed to an almost dead silent line an un-easy feeling started to engulf him, he tensed immediately assuming this could have been a trap to catch him off-guard and wouldnt be surprised if there was a gun pressed against the back of his head, though with attempting to push these thoughts to the back of his mind chuuya heard his own name being shakily recited back to him through the phone line before going dead. he immediately knew who this was dropping his phone in the meantime from pure anxiety and adrenaline before rushing out of the bar he frequently occupied when not getting peoples ass beat in a mission and scrambled up the street and even faster up the stairs to his ex-partners apartment the door was unlatched, that was off. it was a close fucking call this time. too close for comfort and it showed, chuuya could feel his heart-beat in his throat as he laid his eyes on the horror in-front of him. osamu dazai, his wrists slashed, deeply layered with many self-inflicted lacerations some even looked as if they could have hit an artery, chuuya kneeled to his side frantically checking for a pulse, it was there, of-course but worryingly weak- he knew that dazai was the type to refuse professional medial treatment on a normal day and especially in a vulnerable state like this he would rather finish the job with mori's scalpel than be seen by anybody else. this was really not a life-threatening situation for dazai at this point since chuuya was here and had been trained to deal with wounds such as these since they were such a big risk in the mafia therefore it was compulsory. after the unpleasant wave of nausea had passed from him cleaning and stitching together as much as he could of the near hacked apart flesh of his ex-partners inner arms he felt a wave of relief as his pulse was starting to strengthen and osamu slowly re gained consciousness, sure he looked like shit- no question about it, but at least he was more or less awake, you could say that without dazais bandages his arms looked bear, but not with all the scars and indentations engraved into his once blank canvass of an arm, maybe dazai preferred it this way? who was chuuya to say- dragging himself out of his thoughts he raised his voice just above a whisper to say whilst delicately running his hands in and out of dazais hair:
"motherfucker what do you think you're doing?? you disturbed my whole fucking evening with this shit -- do you know its my day off osamu??"
dazai didnt say anything in response just smiled weakly still trying to gage what the hell he just did, "you know what you should be fucking happy that you just about survived this with no other major bodily harm because when you're back on your feet im for sure going to cause some" even though chuuya was half joking he never really made empty threats and dazai was for sure expecting a bitch slap when he was round-about recovered, though this was the least of his worries right now.

||AUTHOR NOTES||

well at-least hes not dead ig (not yet anyways) gowannn chuuya beat his ass ml?!

uhmm yeah comment 🤭🤭