nealuchi | his smile that didn't look like someone living

Title: his smile that didn't look like someone living
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs, Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): BSD Chuuya, BunAl Chuuya
Pairing(s): BSD Chuuya/BunAl Chuuya
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 590
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Alcoholism, child death
Summary: Chuuyas, alcohol withdrawal.
Notes: Written for BSD Rarepair Week. Part of Cogwheels.

The other Chuuya is always at least a little buzzed, if not completely drunk.

No matter what time of day Chuuya sees him, or if he’s just arriving at a bar to drink some more, he always smells like alcohol. Even when he’s seen a hundred abilities more impressive than a simple gun, seeing that Chuuya accurately shoot when he’s completely plastered gets a whistle.

“Don’t have hangovers if you just keep drinking,” the poet says. He isn’t wrong, but Chuuya wonders how long he can keep it up.

(Meanwhile, Chuuya has a drink now and then to celebrate, and almost immediately becomes useless. Sometimes he wakes up with his head in the other Chuuya’s lap and their hats sitting next to each other.)

He only sees Kashiwamura Chuuya (his name before he switched to Nakahara, he explains, though he was still a child then - and isn’t it strange that he remembers being a child) sober once, when Chuuya drops by the library without calling ahead of time. Kashiwamura hasn’t invited him over for drinks in a while, and Chuuya’s got one of his rare days off. It’s a cold day in October, with no modern excuse for why Kashiwamura’s been so fidgety - no reason for Kashiwamura to try to go cold turkey off his drink all of a sudden, at least not that Chuuya knows.

And yet, Chuuya finds him in his room clawing at his skin, muttering about bugs crawling all over him.

Chuuya’s never been this kind of drunk, and none of his subordinates have tried anything as stupid as going cold turkey off of alcohol. He could just turn around and leave. He really should just turn around and leave.

He sits next to Kashiwamura and catches his arm.

Kashiwamura jerks back - hadn’t noticed Chuuya walk in, he guesses - before more or less collapsing against Chuuya’s shoulder. Feverish and sweating, so it’s probably been two days, Chuuya notes absently.

“What’s the point of being a spirit if you still get human things like withdrawal?” Chuuya asks, because it’s easier than asking ‘why did you do this to yourself’.

Kashiwamura laughs, weak and breathless. “Can’t even heal it with ink, it’s the worst.”

“You want me to call a doctor or something…?”

“You think they wouldn’t flip out if they took a blood test and drew ink?”

No, Chuuya knows that they would, knows better than most what could happen to him if his nature was made public knowledge. It was just the only thing he could think to offer that would reduce Kashiwamura’s suffering.

“Just… stay right there. I promise I won’t vomit on you.” He closes his eyes. Not sleeping, not restful, but just trying to block out the world for a moment.

If Chuuya’s called to business, he’ll have to extricate himself. Until that happens, though, he supposes he doesn’t mind.

“…why’d you quit?” Obviously Kashiwamura was drinking too much for his own good, and that should be reason enough, but-

“Wanted to be sober for Fumiya’s birthday.” Kashiwamura hides his face against Chuuya’s shoulder. “Never forgive myself if I showed up to his birthday drunk, even if he isn’t…”

The name is unfamiliar, but the pain in his voice is simple enough to place. Chuuya rubs his counterpart’s shoulder and says, “I’m sorry.”

Tears fall on Chuuya’s jacket. It’s fine. He’s washed out worse.

(A week later, Kashiwamura shows up to their favorite bar, already drunk as he always is. He doesn’t meet Chuuya’s eyes this time. Chuuya doesn’t order him a drink.)