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Needles poked into his skin, filling his bloodstream with cold liquid drugs. He was woozy, and it felt like his muscles were trying to tear themselves from his skin. No matter how much he twitched, the needles wouldn't budge. No matter how much he pulled, he couldn't escape whatever was binding him to this cold darkness.
Chuuya stumbled up, hastily flicking on the light switch. He screwed his eyes shut as the unnatural florescent lights turned on, leaning on the wall for support against his growing headache. His breathing was uneven and heavy, a shiver coursing its way through his body. Bringing his free hand up to rub along his side and arm, he tried to get this feeling to go away. Tried to get his body to relax.
He wasn't there anymore. He wasn't in the lab anymore. There were no needles, no mysterious drugs being pumped into his system, no darkness confining him. He was here.
No matter how much he tried to tell himself that, the feelings still haunted him. His skin crawled, and he could still feel the sensation of needles poking into his skin with every twitch of his muscles. Every time he moved he could feel them poking out, but when he brought his hand up to the spot he felt them, there was nothing there.
He turned to slump against the bedroom door, sliding down until his knees were to his chest. His eyes were half open now, squinting at the light he oh-so hated. It was too bright and uncomfortable. It wasn't the soft lighting he had in his house, it was harsh lighting that made his head spin. Not the kind of lighting he wanted while injured and tired from the mission he had today.
Unfortunately, though, he wasn't done with his mission. His house was on the other side of the city, and he needed to be here to complete the last part of his mission in the morning. Technically, he could go home, but it was a lot easier to be here so he didn't need to worry about the commute making him late to finishing this task. So, for the time being, he was in one of the Port Mafia's many safehouses. They didn't have many this far out, just outside the city, so this one was really his only option.
Unfortunately for him, it was his least favorite out of all the safehouses he had been to. Ever. He had only been to this one once, back in his teen years, and luckily had Dazai there as a distraction to what made him loathe it so much. Back then, he had made a vow to himself to never stay at it again, but somehow, here he was. And he was regretting it.
This far away from the city, and on a new moon night, no light came through the window. The stars hardly provided any light, and there were no street lights or any other light source on this street, as well as trees blocking any farther lights. That, and there were no nightlights in the safehouse itself. That wasn't too uncommon, but most safehouses had lamps or other smaller lights that Chuuya could use to make due. Unfortunately, this one only had harsh fluorescents in the ceilings, no portable or soft lights at all.
This far from the city, there were none of the normal sounds of traffic or nightlife either. Whatever animals and bugs may be in this area were staying quiet, resulting in a deafening silence where the only thing Chuuya could hear was his own breathing. He thought about turning on the radio in the other room, but he knew once he started drifting into sleep, it would only bother him and put him on edge, thinking someone had broken in.
Which meant, he was stuck in a pitch black, silent room. By himself.
That, or a bright room with light that hurt his eyes and a radio that made him think someone was breaking in any time he was close to sleep.
Honestly, he wasn't sure which was worse. Both resulted in no sleep for him, and that was what he wanted to do right now, more than anything. He had had a long day, and he needed to finish this mission in the morning. He needed to sleep, dammit, but he couldn't. The light was too bright to sleep with, even with how tired he was. That, and he just couldn't get himself to relax with the sound of the radio in the other room, no matter how much he tried to remind himself it was just the damn radio.
Sleeping in the pitch black silence was also impossible for him.
Being in pitch black silence allowed his mind to wander back to his childhood. To memories he didn't actually remember, but lingered somewhere in his subconscious. Memories to being in the lab, in the tube of black liquid, with needles prodding him and injecting unknown drugs into his system.
It made his skin crawl, his breathing heavy, and he just couldn't get the feeling of needles stuck in him off. No matter how much he rubbed at his skin, the needles lingered, inserted under his skin as he tried to pry them out, to no avail. He rubbed and scratched until the skin was almost bleeding, but it didn't help.
Turning on the light lessened the feelings, drove back the memories, but they weren't gone. They were persistent, and he knew from experience that once they surfaced, they were hard to make go away. They stuck around like a cockroach, clung to him like grease, weighed on him like water soaked clothes. No matter what he did, they wouldn't go away.
He heavily considered going home. He was leaning towards that option, really. Even if it would make completing this mission a bit more stressful than necessary, and he wouldn't get as much sleep. Its not like he was getting any sleep right now, anyway.
The problem with that is that there was no guarantee the memories would dissipate once he was home. It wasn't too often he dealt with them, and was still trying to figure out the best way to deal with them. Usually, he would realize a situation would trigger them and stay away, but he didn't always have that option. Being at home would definitely make things better, but there was still the very real possibility that he would be unable to sleep still.
Really, this was hell, and he wanted this night to be over already.
He wanted to be curled up in his bed at home, asleep peacefully without his skin tingling. Without the cold feeling of liquid not blood pumping through his veins. He wanted to be back in the present, not stuck in a past he couldn't even remember. Really, what was he supposed to do to deal with things he couldn't even clearly remember?
Chuuya leaned his head back against the door, letting out a tired sigh and closing his eyes against the blinding lights. He still rubbed at himself, trying to make the needles go away, trying to make his skin and muscles stay in tact, trying to will away the drugs in his blood. Physically, he was fine, and logically, he knew this, but his mind and body weren't listening, and he was so tired.
He turned his head to the nightstand, looking at his phone sitting on top of it. It helped, reminded him that he was here in the present and not in the lab, but unfortunately, he couldn't rely on it. The battery was low, and he would definitely need it tomorrow, and for some god-forsaken reason, this safehouse didn't have a charger. He would know, because he checked literally everywhere for one.
He could call someone. Call someone to drive him to another safehouse, or, better yet, home. But that wasn't a guarantee that he'd be fine. He could call someone to help him with these thoughts, but... who the hell would he call?
Kouyou would definitely be too busy. Hirotsu too. Akutagawa was... simply out of the question, same with Gin. Anyone else, he wouldn't trust with knowing about this side of him. This weakness of his. His options were limited, and unfortunately, none of them worked.
...well.
He did have one more option.
Chuuya rubbed his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it.
Fuck, was that really a good idea?
To call Dazai in the middle of the night- so late it was almost morning- to a safehouse on the outside of the city. He would definitely get the wrong impression, probably thinking Chuuya was badly injured and about to bleed out. Why else would Chuuya call him, after all? The two only called each other like that for emergencies.
...This was kind of an emergency, wasn't it? In some sort of way?
Chuuya was tired. He needed sleep. Hell, he hardly had any sleep these past few days, having been planning on catching up with sleep tonight. This was the night he was going to actually sleep a decent amount, and allow his body to rest after days of near-constant working. However, it seems his mind had other plans for him, so here he was, unable to sleep. That... that counted as an emergency, right?
Maybe he was just being selfish. He wasn't often selfish, but something about the brunette brought out that side of him more, especially in relation to the other man. It was something he tried not to put too much thought into, scared of what he might realize about himself in the process. He'd much rather remain oblivious, at least for now.
Though, maybe he'd rather analyze these emotions of his over the feeling of needles in his skin. Those thoughts seemed easier to deal with than the ghost of experiments he couldn't even remember. He could sort through his thoughts, he couldn't do anything about this.
Shakily, he stood up and stumbled over to the nightstand. He plopped himself on the bed, grabbing his phone and scrolling through his contacts. He landed on Dazai's contact and stared at their messages. He hated how his hands were shaking, hated that even with the blinding lights he still felt like he was in that tube of dark nothingness. Hated that his skin felt like it wanted to melt off him at any second. He hated this.
He found himself already typing his location and hitting send. He stared at the message for a few moments, before putting his phone back on the nightstand. Then, he slid off the bed and back onto the floor, knees to his chest and back against the bed. Wrapping his arms around himself and burying his face into his knees, he started rubbing wherever his hands could reach in an attempt to ground himself. In an attempt to get these sensations to go away.
His chest was tight, his head hurt, his eyelids were heavy with the need for sleep, but his mind would not stop racing. His breathing was shaky, trying whatever he could think of to get himself out of the black liquid and out of his confines. To get these needles out of his skin, to get these drugs out of his system, to get his body to stop feeling like it was fighting itself. However, just like before, nothing seemed to work.
No matter how much he scratched at his skin- now making himself bleed- the needles wouldn't go away. His body still felt like it was fighting itself, like his muscles wanted to pop out of his skin, and the cold drugs running through his system only made it worse. It was hard to breath, and he curled up as much as he could, as if that would keep himself from falling apart.
He would have to open his eyes and turn his head to glance around the room to stop himself from completely spiraling. The blinding lights worsened his headache, but lessened the feeling that he was still in that tube. The other sensations, he noticed, only slightly lessened as he did this. He would keep his eyes open and looking around his room as much as he could, before the light was just too much and his eyelids were too heavy to stay open anymore. When he would close his eyes again, the feelings became worse again, and he was back in the black liquid.
It was a cruel cycle, one that had been repeating for hours now, and he couldn't make it stop. He pulled at his hair at some point, but that didn't help much either. If hell existed, he was convinced that this was what it was. He was losing his mind, and wanted nothing more than for this to be over.
It was an eternity later, when the deafening silence was broken by the sound of the front door opening. Chuuya froze, holding his breath as he heard quiet footsteps swiftly make their way through the house. They were familiar, it took him a moment to realize, and a small sense of relief coursed through him. Already, the ghost feelings of his past were lessening, but they still lingered uncomfortably. Chuuya closed his eyes and rested his head on his knees again, before the bedroom door swung open.
"Chuuya?" The voice cut through the silence like a dagger, thinly veiled concern in its tone. The footsteps were quick to approach him, and then there was a hand on his back. Suddenly, Chuuya was pulled elsewhere-
A hand reached out from the darkness and pulled him out. His vision was blurry, blinded by lights he wasn't used to. The unknown hands held him, called out to him, but his head was spinning and he couldn't make sense of the words. They were almost gibberish to him, and he was being dragged and carried as his vision went dark again-
"-Slug? Are you there?" There was a warmth on his cheek, and Chuuya blinked.
It took his eyes a minute to focus on the man in front of him. The man, who did not have long black hair, but rather short brown hair. Dazai, who was gently cupping Chuuya's cheek and rubbing his thumb under his eye. His expression was hard to read, but Chuuya was more concerned with focusing on his presence than anything else.
"Are you back with me, Slug?" His voice was gentle, yet it still stuck out against the otherwise silent room. Chuuya nodded, before leaning towards the other man and bumping his head into his chest. Dazai let out a sigh and was quick to wrap his arms around the shorter man. Chuuya titled his head so his ear rested against the brunette's chest, and listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat.
He wrapped his arms around the taller man, trying to anchor himself back to reality and the present and not slip back into his forgotten memories. The feeling of needles piercing his skin were less apparent now, but still vaguely there. His body was still shaking, muscles still fighting against his his, but Dazai rubbing his back gently seemed to be slowly coaxing his body to relax. He closed his eyes, the warmth of the other man pulling him from the cold darkness of the black liquid.
"I thought you'd be bleeding out when I got here, Slug," Dazai sighed, feigning annoyance that Chuuya vaguely recognized as masked concern. He was too tired and too unstable to even try for their normal banter right now.
"I wish I was," He mumbled. 'Over this' went unsaid, but Dazai still managed to pick it up.
"What are you even doing here? I thought you hated this safehouse."
"If I remembered how much I hated it I wouldn't have fucking come here, but it was the closest one to my mission that I have to do in the morning," It was clear in his tone how exhausted he was, and he made no attempts at trying to hide it. Talking helped pull him back to reality, back to the present with Dazai holding him in a safehouse in Yokohama and not in the past in a lab he hardly remembered.
Dazai hummed. "What a forgetful Slug you are." Chuuya just huffed, not having the energy to respond right now. Instead, he focused on the grounding sound of the brunette's heartbeat, the feel of his warm hands rubbing along his back. He was still shaking, but it felt like Dazai was holding him together right now. Like he was stopping his muscles from escaping his body, like he was seeping out the unknown drugs running though his system, and freeing him from the shackles that bound him to the cold darkness.
The feeling of needles under his skin slowly dissipated, and slowly he was able to calm his breathing down to something a lot more normal. It took a while, or maybe it just felt like hours to the redhead, but eventually, he could feel sleep begin to overtake him.
"You know, most people like to sleep on the bed rather than next to it, Chuu," Dazai hummed. Chuuya let out a groan, scared that the feelings would come back to him the moment he left this position. However, he knew the bed would definitely be more comfortable, now that he had an anchor to hold onto and wouldn't feel like he was suspending in that black liquid.
Chuuya let out a groan when he tried to open his eyes and was greeted by the harsh fluorescents once again. Dazai chuckled.
"I'll turn off the lights if Chuuya lets go," He said. Chuuya hesitated, scared of falling back into the black liquid when he lets go, but he knew he would have to if he wanted to move into the bed. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip, and Dazai slipped away as he stood up. A coldness washed over Chuuya at the sudden loss of warmth, and he tried desperately to not let his mind wander back to the past.
When the lights flicked off, Chuuya felt like he was sinking back into the dark liquid, like needles were entering his skin again and-
A dramatic sigh. "Does Chibi need help standing?" The voice pulled Chuuya back from the liquid, and the sensation of needles in his skin dissipated again. If he was more awake and present, he would've quipped back with some sort of insult. Instead, he managed to open his eyes and reached behind him for the bed, using it to help him stand.
When he stood, he felt something warm wrap around his wrist. He heard as Dazai sat down on the bed first, shuffling around before the brunette tugged him down. Suddenly, Chuuya found himself lying on top of the detective.
"Could've just asked, asshole," He mumbled, shuffling into a more comfortable position for both of them. The two more felt their way through it than anything, as the room was basically pitch black now. After a few moments, the two found themselves with Dazai lying on his back and Chuuya lying half on top of him, head resting on his chest with his ear above the brunette's heart. Dazai wrapped his arms around the redhead, one of his hands coming up to comb through his hair. Chuuya wrapped his arms around the taller man's torso, and closed his eyes to the sound of his steady heartbeat.
Chuuya took a deep breath, allowing himself to relax against the brunette. The silence that fell between them was broken after a few moments.
"Flashbacks?" Dazai's voice was quiet and gentle, as to not startle the redhead. Even so, Chuuya's breath still hitched, before nodding.
"What else?" He mumbled, half asleep already. Dazai hummed.
"Does Chibi want me to tell him a bedtime story?"
It wasn't necessary, really. However, it was a common question for Dazai to ask when Chuuya was dealing with these episodes, and Chuuya never felt the need to tell him it wasn't needed. Really, now, Chuuya was alright and would fall into a peaceful sleep with Dazai's presence alone. However, the redhead couldn't help but be a bit selfish, as Dazai's voice really was soothing, especially during times like this, so he tended to agree more often than not.
Chuuya nodded.
Dazai hummed before he started talking about his day. He went in depth about things that didn't matter, including details Chuuya could easily assume, and otherwise made his story as wordy as possible. On a normal day the redhead would've found it annoying, but right now, his voice was soft and coaxing him into a gentle sleep. He didn't pay much attention to the words itself, the story getting lost as Dazai rambled on about unnecessary details, but it was never the story that mattered. The only thing that mattered was Dazai's gentle voice, accompanied by his steady heartbeat, being the last thing Chuuya heard before he slipped off into sleep.