I swear | bsd | Soukoku ✔

13

Dazai lifted Chuuya off the metal railing; planting him on the ground with his side recoiling in pain as he stood. Evident that the pain was going to kill him more than the actual injury. Legs cave in from underestimating how serious the injury is. 

If he had any common sense he would have been in recovery right now and not having to deal with the aftermath of messing with his injury. Arms coil around his waist to stop him from falling to the ground.Joints twisted, cracking from the lack of exercise and movement while trying to meet at eye level with the hatrack. 

Restricting him to only go half way before telling him that if when any further he would get a cramp. "We need to look at that wound".  As the brunet pulled back all the clothing; dried blood had recoloured all the chibi's stomach and circled around his thighs. A crippling shooting pain hit, causing him cry out. His head felt substantial as agony hurried through him like backdraft from a fire. He snatched a fistful of hair, pulling on it to ease the pain.

Slowly the pain numbed down with hands releasing the brown lock he had grabbed.The bandaged freak didn't have a clue about anything to do with first aid as he never took the first aid course the agency demanded him to do. Which left him the only basic knowledge to try and save someone's life.

A hand was placed on the former mafioso temple; hovering over it to already feeling the heat it was radiating without a single finger touching it. His second hand caressed his cheek, emitting the same agonizing warmth and feeling of being roasted alive.He was burning up fast, too fast for Dazai liking.

Black locks clung like it hadn't been washed for a week and twisted around his face with the remaining salty beads dripping onto the floor below. Sleep had already consumed the hatrack while he was fixing him up.

"Okay, let's go home". The brunet bent down with legs like a frog ready to give him a piggyback.

"What are you doing I can walk, you asshole". He spoke shakily but with a hint of determination.

"No !". 

As he set Chuuya's leg's into place around his waist, he nestled into the bandage's freak neck. Noir hair stimulated his neck hair to raise as it brushes past in an ataractic way. On route to going home, he strolled towards the steps. 

Noticing the man he saw earlier wasn't there, he was probably more than that senile alcoholic that couldn't tell what day of the week it was.

All of the weight from the petite mafia was put onto the brunet, yet it felt like he was barely carrying anything. Weight loss being the killer and Dazai the cause - from not wanting to eat or drink anything for fear that it was tampered with. 

The chibi was already asleep with his chest rising and falling rhythmically and slow breathing that he could feel breathing on his neck; emitting an aroma of the fruity wine he had recently drunk.  

An overwhelming silence settled over them, thick with tension. Disrupted eyes glanced at the emerging figure that came down the stairs.glanced at the emerging figure that came down the stairs.The crowds gave off the impression that they were disillusioned by the fact that he didn't attempt suicide and succeeded. 

They were hungry for other people's misery to hide from their own. Chuuya could hear the mumbles and whisper as he drifted in and out of consciousness, publicly degrading him to all their family, friends and even random strangers like some kind of punishment for wasting their time. Most people would be happy if someone saved some from suicide but not in this generation. The generation where suicide is the escape route.