The mission was already wrong the moment the first shot echoed through the warehouse. Too many enemies. Wrong intel. No exit left that wasn’t bleeding. “Dazai, move!” Chuuya’s voice snapped through the chaos. “I am moving,” Dazai replied lightly, stepping aside just in time to avoid gunfire that shattered the wall behind him. “Just at a philosophically slower pace.” “Stop talking and—” The floor gave out. A deep, cracking groan swallowed the room. For a heartbeat, everything hung suspended: dust, light, breath. Then the warehouse collapsed. Dazai hit the ground hard, rolling through debris. Pain flared somewhere in his side, distant and unimportant. His ears rang. The world was dust and broken steel. “Chuuya!” Silence answered. That was the first wrong thing. “Chuuya,” he called again, sharper now. He pushed himself up, ignoring the way his body protested, scanning through the wreckage. Then he saw it. A collapsed beam. Blood seeping through cracks in concrete beneath it. Something in Dazai’s chest tightened before he even reached it. “No,” he said, like it was an order the world had to obey. He ran. His hands hit the rubble, pulling, shoving, tearing at anything he could move. Concrete scraped his skin raw. He didn’t stop. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered under his breath. “Don’t you dare do this to me.” A hand appeared first. Small, shaking, half-buried. Then red hair. Chuuya. Half crushed under debris, face dust-streaked, eyes shut. Dazai froze for a fraction of a second too long. Then he tore the rest away. “Hey,” he said quickly, too quickly. “You’re not allowed to die. I didn’t approve that outcome.” Nothing. His fingers pressed against Chuuya’s neck. A pulse. Faint. But there. Relief hit so sharply it almost made him dizzy. “…Idiot,” Dazai breathed, and it wasn’t really an insult this time. Chuuya’s eyelids twitched. A weak cough followed, breaking the stillness. “Ugh…” His voice was barely there. “You’re… loud…” Dazai let out a shaky laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. “You’re alive. Good. I’d hate to replace you.” “Shut… up…” Chuuya tried to move and immediately winced, collapsing back with a sharp inhale. Dazai’s hands moved faster now, tearing fabric for a bandage. “Don’t move. You’re inconveniently breakable right now.” “Boss… gonna be pissed…” “Let them be. Try not to die before they yell at us.” Chuuya’s eyes opened slightly, unfocused but real. “…You’re… shaking.” “I’m not.” “You are.” A pause. Dazai tightened the bandage harder than necessary. “Shut up.” A faint, almost nonexistent smirk tugged at Chuuya’s lips. “Still… annoying…” “Still alive,” Dazai corrected immediately. That quieted them both. The warehouse groaned again around them, but it didn’t matter anymore. Sirens were distant. Firelight flickered through broken beams. Chuuya’s breathing stayed uneven but steadying. Dazai stayed beside him, hand hovering near his shoulder like he was afraid the world might try again if he looked away. “…Don’t do that again,” Chuuya muttered. “I didn’t do anything.” “You know what I mean.” Dazai hesitated, then looked away. “Yeah.” A beat. Then softer, almost lost in the dust: “Don’t you either.” Chuuya didn’t answer right away. But his fingers, weak as they were, hooked slightly into Dazai’s sleeve. Not letting go. Not yet.