What you're name ?

Chapter 17 Growing Pains

Made by @cataclysmiceve1 on Twitter!
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This marks the end of Part II of V! If you'd like to catch up on the completed version of this story

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Chuuya stays in the hospital for three days—and so does Dazai. The doctors explain it's from an abundance of caution, wanting to monitor the swelling.

Kouyou visits on the second day. Dazai has never actually seen her cry before—but she weeps openly into Chuuya's pillow, curled up in the bed next to him. His mother tries to visit, but—Chuuya tells the doctors to turn her away.

Chuuya is released with a final assessment: three cracked ribs, a concussion, a badly bruised esophagus, and severe swelling of the vocal cords. And various other contusions all over, but in comparison, they seem minor.

"We'll want to see him twice a month for the rest of this year," one of the doctors explains to Mori. "To make sure the damage doesn't become permanent."

Chuuya's pretty relieved he was never a good singer anyway, otherwise the new limitations of his vocal range would be devastating.

"Of course."

Dazai keeps both hands on the redhead the entire way home. Chuuya doesn't mind. He sleeps on the floor in Chuuya's room for almost a week, because the other boy is still so bruised, Dazai doesn't want to roll over and hurt him in his sleep.

"I'm really fine, you know." Chuuya speaks into the dark a few nights later. "You can sleep up here—"

"Nope—"

"Or you could sleep in your own bed—"

"Not happening."

"I'm not going to disappear in my sleep or something, Dazai."

Logically speaking, Dazai knows that.

After two more weeks, he's cleared to return to school.

The night before, Chuuya knocks on his door. "Dazai?"

He glances up, hair still wet from the shower, tugging on his shirt. "What's up?"

Chuuya's voice sounds oddly quiet through the door. "Can you help me with something?"

"Sure—" why hadn't Chuuya opened the door yet? "Are you gonna come in?"

The door slides open, and Chuuya is holding a roll of bandages, and looking unsure. "I have to take the gauze off for tomorrow, but I don't—"

Dazai's heart aches.

I don't want people to stare.

It's not something he wanted Chuuya to ever have to understand.

"Well," he pats his bed. "I'm an expert."

Chuuya walks over, sitting down and facing away from Dazai, and the taller boy tries to keep his tone light, like this is totally fine, like nothing is wrong.