It was a long, arduous day when Chuuya left the building of the Port Mafia. Today was spent taking care of the docks, managing the gem trade as usual, and kicking ass whenever the boss requested. In fact, his body was practically aching with bone-deep exhaustion. He sighed, hands fidgeting with his keys to unlock the door to his penthouse. Chuuya rolled his eyes at the thought of the mackerel when his front door seemed to creak open. Huh, it was unlocked. Weird. “Dazai?” he called out, lips twitching up at the ends. He walked down the hallway and then frowned. Huh, usually the beanpole of a man would run towards him with as much excitement as a toddler. As the redhead walked down the eerily quiet hallway, he stopped at the bathroom door. It was open. Chuuya’s stomach curled anxiously. Oh god, he should’ve came so much earlier—There was so much blood and, and Dazai was laying in the center of the bathroom. His scarred arms were dyed a miserable red. Somehow, he was still awake despite how much blood pooled around his curled up form. “Dazai!”