As I freeze, two burning hands embrace me || soukoku ||

The prayer to be saved from thyself

A/N: if u want then play the song (thing at the top) when u get to the stars :D
I got some of mah title ideas while listening to TUYU! I love their music so if you can, give them a listen 😚😚
Some of My personal favs are 'Being low as dirt, taking what is important to me' and 'if there is an endpoint' :))
I also haven't read stormbringer (yet) so I don't know much about the flags or their personalities TvT

TRIGGER WARNINGS
-glass (again lol)
-gayness🥰
-Dazai (haha he's so happy isn't he☺️☺️)
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Dazai rummaged through his pocket, searching for a paper clip or something, anything. His hands and forehead were soaked in sweat. He felt like the sun chuuya had described, slowly sinking deeper into the abyss. "Why now of all times? He swore, kicking the door with full force.
it burst open, slamming into a modern wooden shelf holding a sumptuous vase. The pedestal crashed to the ground, shattering the sage green vase that sat atop it into thousands of minuscule pieces. They scattered the ground like grass and carved into the skin like blades, the definition of 'nuisance'. Dazai coursed through it, the green daggers digging through his shoes and shoving into his feet with every step.
"CHUUYA? CHUUYA WHERE ARE YOU!?" he yelled frantically, scanning the apartment with his shrunken pupils.
More glass covered the ground like a long carpet. But This time they weren't like grass but large, white puffs of triangular snow. Each individual piece carved into lethal knifes of all different sizes.
He followed the trail. His feet felt like they were paralysed. He couldn't help chuuya, not if his what permitted him to walk ended up being ripped to sheds. He would have to avoid the piercing glass that blanketed the ground. But what if... no. He would just have to walk through. He couldn't risk it.
He treaded through the 'snow', walking behind the Island the underaged Chuuya and Dazai used to chug alcohol at. And there he saw him. Below the sink behind the island was chuuya, scrunched up into a loose ball, his head hung low.
"CHUUYA!" Dazai yelled stricken. The figure looked lifeless.
He sped towards him, the glass crunching beneath his feet. Crouching down he checked his pulse. His fingers collided with chuuyas neck and after a moment he breathed a sigh of relief.
He was alive.
However his heart still ached at the sight of him, delicate as a feather. Dazai needed to check if he was wounded. But first he would get him out of the glass covered room. He picked chuuya up, placing him onto the counter, Then slid him onto his back, pacing through the pathway of shards while the sun set graciously, the sky filled with pinks and purples, but no red in sight.
*. .* *. .* *. .* *. .*
Chuuya lay unconscious in bed. Dazai examined him carefully from atop Chuuya's desk, dwelling on what could have possibly led to such a state while subconsciously swinging his legs back and forth. He watched the steady fall and rise of Chuuya's chest. He watched his fingers move ever so slightly. He was, undeniably, entranced by him. He could never pinpoint what exactly he liked about the red-head. Was it how easy it was to irritate him? Was it the hair he used to fiddle with whenever the ginger was asleep? Was it his loyalty? Or was it when he saw a miserable looking Chuuya at the bar he, Odasaku and Ango used to go to 4 months after he left the mafia? Maybe it was when he saw Chuuya at the spot they used to go to for his birthday 2 years after his disappearance: Dazai didn't really know. But he did know that Chuuya always looked ceaselessly beautiful under the twinkling moonlight. Who would've assumed he was having a mental breakdown only a few hours ago?
Probably Dazai, who could notice the quiet quiver of his lips and the discreet creases that formed on his face every few minutes, like he was thinking about something dire that brought with it grave discomfort. Dazai would most likely say that it broke his heart watching chuuya seem so distressed, however mere existences like him didn't have hearts. He smiled woefully and pushed these thoughts aside, hopping off the desk. He stood facing Chuuya for a minute before crouching down by the the bed. He rested his head on the quilt and began to gaze softly at him, studying the movements of his face like a book.