chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · tsundere · protective · romance · supernatural · domestic · hurt comfort
The kitchen was washed in the thin, grey light of dawn. The only sounds were the slow drip of the coffee maker and a faint, unsteady rasp of breath. Chuuya paused in the doorway, sleep still clinging to his clothes, and saw Dazai. His husband was slumped against the counter, pale as ash, hands trembling around a mug he hadn't managed to lift. His eyes stared at nothing, glassy and distant. Chuuya's chest went cold. He moved forward silently, his voice a low scrape. "Osamu?" Dazai's head turned, a slow, heavy motion. When their eyes met, Chuuya knew. He closed the last of the distance, pressed his palm to Dazai's forehead. The fever heat was an accusation. "You're burning up," he whispered, the words tight. "Why didn't you wake me?"