Work Text:
Overcoming the past when you have endured so much is a perpetual battle. You get to a point where you think everything is better, that somehow you found the magic cure that seemingly erased the damage. But then lightning strikes, and you find that you're holding the world's largest umbrella. It was as though the memories were deliberately out to get you; to make you fall backwards into that familiar darkness and undo all of your progress. It makes you wonder if this is something anyone can really overcome—that maybe healing was a myth invented by hopeful hearts.
Atsushi was being worked like a dog.
Day after day, the boy was being sent on the most difficult and dreadful missions. It was as though each case were a glimpse into the disgraceful state of humanity; a peak at every inch of the blackest, most foul corners of Yokohama.
15 people committed suicide in a gymnasium, seemingly brought on by a mind-controlling ability. Most of the victims were high school students, and Atsushi barely made it in time to hunt down the perpetrator.
A child was abducted in broad daylight by his own father, and somehow the car wasn't caught on any traffic cameras. Atsushi was made to track the boy’s scent for over a week, yet still no luck.
Two ability users, a couple, had been forced to use their abilities against each other by some deranged mafia member with a grudge. Only one of them made it out alive, and only because Atsushi was able to shove him out of the way of his partner's attack.
All of this to say that Atsushi's energy and sanity was being spread thin. Every mission he was assigned was a solo mission now, it seemed. Kunikida had explained that the change was due to the fact that Atsushi showed ‘so much potential’.
He was grateful that he could be of use to the agency. Being of use to anyone, really, made him feel like he could live easier. It was as if he had been given permission to continue on just by carrying out these tasks. Each completed case brought along with it a surge of belonging that rooted itself deep within Atsushi’s base desires, spurring him on to keep going.
But there was only so much one boy could take.
The sound of the office's AC buzzing is the only thing the weretiger can focus on right now as he sits at his desk, fumbling his way through tedious paperwork. This was yet another thing that just never ended.
None of it ever ended.
"Dazai! Stop fooling around! Do you realize how behind schedule we are already?!"
"Awww.. But this is so much more fun!"
Atsushi's boggled out of his thoughts by Dazai and Kunikida's usually scheduled bickering. Apparently, Dazai had found that making paper airplanes out of the paperwork was much more enjoyable than actually doing the paperwork. Tuned into his heightened senses, Atsushi can’t help but follow the trajectory that the makeshift plane takes, watching as it misses the target trash can.
"Do I look like I care? For the love of.."
Suddenly, Kunikida is roughly grabbing the paperwork out of Dazai's hands and walking it over to Atsushi. All the boy can do is pray that the blonde isn’t actually going to set it down.
He almost cries out as more sheets are added to his seemingly perpetual pile.
"Sorry, kid. But someone's gotta do them, and I've got a case to go to. Everyone else is out as well. Just make sure you do them right!"
"Wait! I already have-"
It's too late. The door to the agency shuts, encasing behind it the two men and a heap of dreaded work.
And the buzzing of the AC.
A pointed glare is sent Dazai's direction, but only for a split second. Firstly, Atsushi couldn't find it in himself to ever truly be upset with the man who saved him, even if that first meeting of theirs had really been Atsushi saving Dazai. That was a different type of saving. What Dazai had done for him was more akin to setting someone on a new path— pulling them away from the doom that would have surely laid ahead for them if the other hadn’t guided them elsewhere.
Secondly, he simply had no energy.
It felt as if that odd feeling was creeping back again. The feeling he experienced when he woke up from nightmares, the feeling he felt when he was beyond the point of exhaustion, the same feeling that made him feel so..
Small.
It was a good thing that everyone else had gone home already, because feeling this haze in front of Kunikida and Dazai, and now only Dazai, was shameful enough. Though it was odd that Dazai was still here so late; usually the man would ditch work altogether, and it wasn’t like he'd done anything but play the office’s jester today. Come to think of it, why was Dazai still here?
The sound of Dazai’s grating voice cuts through Atsushi’s thoughts like a knife to butter.
"Atsushi, you don't really need to do the paperwork now that everyone's gone."
"Of course I do. It's my job, and I want to help out," the silver-haired boy replies with a wobbly smile. It was getting hard to keep it together.
But he couldn't burden anyone else. Not with something so ridiculous as this. So he pushes that feeling of haziness in his head down. The letters on the papers in front of him don't seem to suddenly make more sense due to his efforts, though. A long, exasperated sigh escapes Dazai. Atsushi raises an eyebrow in slight annoyance as the taller man lazily sprawls himself over the swivel chair, spinning slightly.
"But it's so boring! You're so responsible that it's almost sickening!"
"Uhm.. thank you?"
The office goes quiet again as Dazai continues to slightly twist on his chair, eyes closed like a baby being rocked to sleep, seemingly giving up on trying to talk Atsushi out of doing his paperwork. Resuming work to keep his mind occupied, the boy tries to tune out the slight squeaking of the chair as it yields to Dazai's movements. The letters on the page get more garbled despite his pained attempts at focusing.
Dazai is humming some ridiculous song about double suicide, the wind outside is beginning to make the trees hit the window, and the AC's buzzing has somehow grown imperceptibly louder. How he wishes he could turn off his tiger senses. Anymore of this and he was sure to crack. The words on the case file in front of him seem to become nonsense, and so does his writing. It looks like chicken scratch now. It all does. He tries to breathe deeply and slowly; it was a technique that he learned about from some movie Tanizaki showed him a while back. Within a few minutes, Atsushi was already starting to feel better.
That is, until a loud bang suddenly sounds from outside.
There was no more fighting against this disorientating feeling welling up inside the boy’s mind. His body was in fight or flight mode now, a switch put in place by the encircling shadow of his past. All of the hairs on his arm stand on end as another resounding shot echoes from the other block. But to Atsushi, it sounded like it was in the same room. The pen falls from his hands in favor of covering his ears. Purple hued eyes screw shut in panic.
He had faced worse than this. Hell, he had grown up experiencing worse than this. A few gunshots in a mafia-run city was usually nothing. But for some reason, today, it felt absolutely terrifying.
Another bang.
Atsushi audibley winces.
Before he can even sense Dazai coming over, the man's hands are tugging softly at his wrists. Immediately, he can feel the soothing effects of No longer Human. And while it does bring his senses out of overdrive, it doesn’t do much to quell the natural fear that had been instilled in him as a child.
"Atsushi. Calm down and look at me. You've gotta breathe."
"N-no, don't do it, please, I—"
Wait, why was he begging like this? Rationally, Atsushi understood that the taller man in front of him was no threat. But God, he still dreaded the impact of his fist. And he had hit him before when this happened, hadn't he? Instinctively, Atsushi blocks with his arms. Even though Dazai’s voice now sounds like it’s been trained to deal with an anxious toddler, it doesn’t stop Atsushi's trembling.
"Shh.. Look at me, Atsushi."
"P-please, I'm sorry, I won't—"
Dazai gently pushes the boy's arms down before placing a hand on his chin and tilting his tear-streaked face upwards.
..When had he even started to cry?
Shaky eyes meet perfectly still ones. A beat passes, and the weretiger is filled with crippling trepidation. All he can think about is the past; tainted memories force their way into his head, reminding him that he was never met with gentleness in the past.
Then, a hand is raised.
Atsushi flinches.
Of course he does; an abused animal would do the same. But there is no impact. It's unbelievable. Instead of bringing about pain, Dazai is petting Atsushi's head. Purple eyes widen, staring up at the bandaged man as if he had just pulled off some newfangled magic trick. When was he ever awarded with such care? Was he really allowed to accept this?
"You're gonna pass out if you keep breathing like that. Watch me."
He hadn't even realized how ragged his own breathing had become. Either way, Atsushi tries his best to mimic Dazai's methodical breathing. It was difficult, but the soothing hand in his hair and the comfort of No Longer Human was certainly helping. And instinctively, the anxiety-ridden boy wanted nothing more than to follow Dazai’s orders. Just in case.
When Dazai retracts his hand from silver locks and stands up straight, Atsushi lets out a small whimper. Just as he had felt his senses become dimmed by No Longer Human the moment Dazai made contact with him, he now feels those senses become heightened yet again upon the loss of that contact. He wants to reach out, to bring back that serene feeling. But he can’t will himself to.
At least his breathing was less labored now, though. He watches cautiously as Dazai smiles, almost as if he were proud of such a simple accomplishment.
"There ya go. That wasn't too hard. Now then.."
Dazai steps away, causing Atsushi to wilt. Had he done wrong? Really, the boy tried so hard to keep all of this under control. If that gunshot hadn’t gone off, maybe everything would have been okay. Maybe Atsushi would have still been able to disguise his growing turmoil.
Only the weretiger remains in the room now. He's about to get up and search for Dazai, to search for that feeling of tranquility, but then he notices something. Or, rather, the lack of something.
The AC stopped buzzing.
A door opens, and suddenly there's two of them in the room yet again. How had he known? Curious eyes follow Dazai as the man comes back over to where Atsushi is sitting, holding out his hand. He just stares at it, confused.
"Come on, now. You can certainly take my hand, can't you? Or perhaps you're already too out of it for that?"
Atsushi looks up at Dazai, then down back at his hand.
Oh..
That should have been obvious, shouldn't it of? His brain wasn't working properly yet again. This always happens. But to have it happen in front of Dazai is a whole new level of embarrassing. He wipes his damp face with the back of his hand, the tears having subsided now.
Internally, Atsushi decides that he needs to try his best to act normal. For Dazai's sake. So he takes his outstretched hand, standing up. That familiar feeling of calmness washes over him like running water, causing the boy to let out a sigh of genuine relief. It's warm. Or maybe Atsushi was just too cold. That's another reason to be grateful for the AC being off. He wordlessly lets Dazai lead him out of the office, down the stairwell, and out to the street.
It's only as they start walking away from the Agency that Atsushi decides he needs to speak up.
"B-but—Work?"
His voice sounded so different; it was as if a toddler had hijacked his vocal chords. Atsushi clears his throat. Next time, he'd try to sound extra grown-up.
"Oh, you're much too dazed for that. Plus, most of that was my work."
A frown creeps its way onto the weretiger’s face upon hearing the brunette’s words. Dazai had noticed the boy’s odd behavior, and that fact alone made him feel a deep pit of shame in his stomach. That feeling swirls around, encompassing and mocking as they walk. Each step adds fuel to the fire, reminding Atsushi that Dazai is going out of his way to try and console him.
He tries to not dwell on it. Instead, Atsushi looks around them, noticing a few people staring. Then he looks down at their intertwined hands. It should feel nerve wracking doing such a thing out in public, but—
He thinks back to all those times he had watched little kids hold their parent's hands.
Was this what those types of things felt like?
Pushing that question away, Atsushi turns his dwindling attention back to the matter at hand. Even if Dazai was saying it was alright to not work, that didn't say anything about where they were going. He clears his throat again, determined to sound as if he were in control.
"Where-"
"My apartment."
"..Oh."
They reach a crosswalk. It was only a little bit more walking now, if that's where they were going. Maybe Atsushi should pull away; going to Dazai's place like this was a surefire way of making a fool of himself even further. But he can't bring himself to wretch his hand away from the only example of comfort he's ever experienced.
"Hold on tight, okay?"
There was that tone again; his words would sound condescending if it weren’t for the soft lilt that caused the silver-haired boy to feel as though he were melting. Mindlessly, Atsushi nods, a barely noticeable smile forming on his face despite his desire to keep his haziness hidden. He was supposed to be acting normal, but this was anything but, wasn't it?
Soon enough, they reach Dazai's apartment.
It takes a bit for the brunette to fish for his keys in his pocket and turn the lock with just one hand, but he manages. Looking around, Atsushi takes note of the lack of decor and bottles of booze strewn about. The smell makes his nose wrinkle and his stomach twist. But he feels even worse when Dazai drops his hand, causing that scent to become ten times stronger.
"Home sweet home! It's a cozy thing, wouldn't you agree?"
"Nuh-uh.."
Dazai gives him a bored, exaggerated look, which just makes Atsushi giggle a bit, in turn causing Dazai to smile. The man didn’t seem to be put off by Atsushi’s sudden and childlike behavior, oddly enough. If anything, it was almost as if the brunette was enjoying it.
"Now, my little cub, you may be thinking—'Why would Dazai take me to his apartment if I'm not feeling the best'?"
Atsushi nods in favor of speaking, trying his best to ignore how much fuzzier his head feels from that pet name. Dazai was always able to read his mind, and honestly, it was impressive every time.
"Because—"
Dazai smiles down at him with that same air of cockiness he usually had. Atsushi just cocks his head. But then his hand is being held again, and his racing heart begins to return to a steady rhythm. Now lidded eyes stare up at the taller man, who is still smiling.
His gaze seems to be filled with fondness, and it makes Atsushi feel as though he were sitting beneath a kotatsu in the dead of winter.
“—this helps, doesn’t it? You need me right now, isn’t that right?”
Was he really going to make him admit to something like that? Behaving this way in front of Dazai was already humiliating enough. However, that usual hint of taunting was nowhere to be found when Dazai spoke. Instead, it sounded so affectionate that Atsushi wondered if Dazai hadn’t become possessed. He doesn’t respond. Instead, his gaze falls to the floor, suddenly feeling very out of place in Dazai’s apartment.
For once, Dazai doesn’t push it. He just lets out a soft hum, as if he were understanding something, then starts leading Atsushi by his hand to the couch.
“Plus, Kyoka is at your apartment. I’m sure she won’t be able to deal with what’s going to happen.”
The way he’s speaking, it almost seemed as if the brunette were talking to himself, because the hidden meaning behind the man’s words are completely lost on Atsushi. What did he mean by ‘what’s going to happen’? It made no sense, but Atsushi lets himself be settled onto the couch regardless of his lack of understanding. When Dazai lets go of his hand again, he gives him a disheartened look. Why did he keep letting go? No, the better question was why was Atsushi feeling so clingy towards him? It was the first time Atsushi was experiencing this dazed feeling in front of someone else. Maybe that was why?
“Oh, don’t give me that look..You look like a kicked puppy,” Dazai says with a soft laugh, but he doesn’t make any move to bring the solace of No Longer Human back to the weretiger. He can already feel his nose scrunching up again at the engulfing smell of crappy liquor in the apartment. Instead, Dazai walks away from the couch, causing Atsushi to immediately start following him. He barely makes it off the couch before Dazai turns around with an amused look, gently guiding him back down by his shoulders.
“Trying to follow me? That’s adorable. But I’ve gotta do something real quick, okay? You’ll be even happier once I come back.”
Atsushi’s mouth opens to try and say something, but he knows well enough that his voice is going to betray his current far-away mindset. So he closes his mouth, just giving Dazai that same saddened look. Even after employing the use of watery eyes and quirked-downwards lips, Dazai still walks away. It’s a little while before the man comes back, and Atsushi is getting fidgety. He looks around, taking in the small apartment while the sounds of pots clanging and water running can be heard from the adjoining kitchen.
When Dazai comes back, he brings tea and rice with him, setting it down in front of the boy along with some chopsticks. Atsushi gives him an incredulous look.
“For me..?” Atsushi questions the offer as if Dazai’s kindness was some unheard of phenomenon.
“Mhm. For you.”
“Oh— t’ank you.”
As soon as Atsushi’s soft, childish tone reaches Dazai’s ears, the brunette’s eyes widen whilst an adoring smile creeps its way onto his face. He comes up to Atsushi, ruffling his hair and bringing the boy some momentary bliss. It’s gone in just a second. It was odd; his heart felt like a stone mass, hardened and cold, whenever Dazai so much as stepped away now.
“You’re welcome. Now eat up, tiger cub. Bedtime has to be early tonight.”
The care and tenderness that Dazai was showing to Atsushi was making his head feel as though it’d been stuffed with cotton. Picking up the chopsticks, he gets to work on the food, not even noticing Dazai’s prognostic wording. It’s surprisingly edible, and he lets out a hum of contentment. Dazai seems to be satisfied with that reaction, because a fond chuckle escapes him. It sounds more genuine than ever before. The bandaged man sits beside him on the couch, a bowl of food in his lap as well.
But Atsushi does pick up on the implication of having to stay the night. He turns his gaze to Dazai, talking with his mouth full.
“Waif—‘M stayinf th’ nighf..?”
“Of course you are," Dazai quickly responds as if Atsushi were speaking clear as day, "doesn’t a sleepover sound fun?”
The brunette reaches up to wipe away some stray rice on the boy’s mouth. Everything about the way Dazai was behaving was so gentle, as if he were dealing with an abused animal. The comparison wasn’t too far from the truth, though. Atsushi lets out an annoyed grumble at the feeling; he didn’t want to be coddled. He was supposed to be a fearless ability users. Shame hurries to make a home in his chest yet again, turning his cheeks crimson from its presence.
Despite the harrowing embarrassment regarding this entire situation, a sleepover did sound like fun..
Atsushi glances away, indulging in the food yet again once Dazai pulls back. Despite the lack of admission, Dazai seems to be able to tell that Atsushi is keen on the idea. A silent agreement is established.
They both finish their food in comfortable silence; it was rare for any moment with Dazai to be silent. Brown eyes drift to the window, seemingly lost in thought.
The setting sun casts Dazai’s bedroom in a dreary shadow as soft specks of golden light begin to retreat through the parted blinds, leaving behind an atmosphere that seemed as though it were always meant to be present. It’s gotten late— the clock on the end table reads 7:02pm. It’s not even the time that they were supposed to leave work yet. Dazai’s phone had only rang once, but Atsushi is certain it was Kunikida, pre-loaded with a loud lecture.
Sitting on Dazai’s half-made bed, Atsushi isn’t too sure of what to do with himself. After eating, the brunette insisted that Atsushi borrow some of his clothes for the night. Despite the attempts to reject the offer, it ended up like this.
Clad in a much-too-large, cat-patterned sleep shirt and shorts that took quite a while to change into due to how dazed he felt, the weretiger waits on the bed for Dazai to finish changing as well. Really, Dazai had been much too convincing.
”C’mon,” Dazai drawls out purposefully, “It’s not a proper sleepover if you aren’t wearing pajamas!”
”But they won’t fit,” Atsushi mumbles, his eyes drifting to the pair of clothes in the man’s hands. Even when folded, it was obvious they would drown him in fabric.
”Hmm.. That’s fine though, isn’t it? It’ll make you look even tinier than you already are.”
Atsushi felt like he’d been doused in syrup upon hearing those words.
For some reason, the idea of looking smaller was very much appealing to Atsushi. Dazai must have known that, somehow. It seemed as though he knew more about what Atsushi was feeling than Atsushi himself did. Then again, Dazai usually knew more about most things than anyone else did. Raising his hands, Atsushi watches as the sleeves go past his hands, truly making him look and even feel younger. The drawstring shorts were also too large, sliding off his waist just a tad since he couldn't properly tie the strings himself.
As soon as the door to the bedroom opens, Atsushi’s head picks up. Just the act of Dazai entering a room had always been enough to make him more alert, but for some reason, it was as if that feeling was ten times stronger tonight. Dazai is wearing pajamas now, too. Unlike Atsushi’s patterned pajamas that look like they were straight out of the child’s section, Dazai is wearing a simple T-shirt and sweats. Dazai must’ve done that on purpose..
“Wow. You stayed in the same spot. I’m impressed!”
That usual teasing lilt was still present in his voice, but still, the praise makes Atsushi’s eyes gloss over just a bit more. Purple-hued eyes drift downwards, noticing something new; a cloth bag is in the taller man’s hand now.
“What’s that?”
“Ah, I guess cats are naturally curious.”
A soft glare is thrown Dazai’s way, but it holds no genuine malice.
“You dodged the qu-question,” Atsushi mumbles out, feeling the bigger words begin to catch on his tongue.
The new addition of slurred speech onto Atsushi’s growing list of odd behavior doesn’t seem to phase Dazai at all. Meanwhile, Atsushi is debating keeping his mouth shut for the rest of the night due to the embarrassment.
“Answering it will spoil the surprise,” Dazai drags out, giving a fake pout. And through all of this cotton stuffed in Atsushi’s head, he yields rather quickly.
If there was a ‘surprise’, he didn’t want to ruin it. He lets out a soft oh, though his eyes stay glued to the bag, trying to decipher what could possibly be in there based on the shape of it. It’s no use, of course. He watches as Dazai glances at the clock, then to the window, then back to him.
“It’s bed time now, Atsushi. Scoot over.”
Apparently the confusion is evident on the weretiger’s expression, because Dazai lets out an amused laugh. He doesn’t even have a second to process the fact that Dazai is implying that they will be sharing a bed before the taller man is pushing him by his shoulders to try and make him move.
“What, you thought I was evil enough to make you sleep on the couch?”
Giving way to the push, Atsushi settles down onto the bed properly, feeling more dazed than ever. His brain is trying to find any reason as to why Dazai was doing this. Laying on his side, he studies Dazai’s expression for any hints.
“What—Can’t you just—Why don’t you sleep on the couch?”
Faux offense shows on Dazai’s face, but it just makes Atsushi further furrow his eyebrows.
“Oh, you’re so clueless it’s almost cute,” the brunette coos out, shifting onto the bed and laying down beside Atsushi and lazily placing his hands behind his head as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
Meanwhile, Atsushi has no clue what he means by ‘clueless’. What was there to be clueless about? His gaze shifts again to the bag, still in Dazai’s hand, and he wonders if that had anything to do with what Dazai was hinting at.
But then the mysterious cloth bag gets placed behind Dazai, out of Atsushi’s grasp. How infuriating.
Even more infuriating was the fact that Dazai hadn’t made skin contact with him since he left to go change. Every beep of a car, sound of the building settling, or barking of some stray dog was making Atsushi feel as though his ears were being lit ablaze—not to mention the overwhelming stench of alcohol in Dazai’s room. It’s concerning and incredibly irritating to his sensitive nose. The boy curls in on himself and screws his eyes shut, but the brunette had noticed his discomfort even before that.
A thoughtful hum comes from the man laying beside him, and the rustling of the comforter can be heard. He feels the sheet being tugged at, but it doesn’t budge since he’s laying atop of it.
“You can get under the covers, y’know.”
“Oh—No, tha’s okay..”
Apparently the response is disagreeable, because Dazai turns onto his side, propping his head up with his hand to look at Atsushi with knitted brows. He raises just one of them, and the weretiger knows that he’s about to get an earful of dramatics.
“I get it, you just hate me,” he says with a somber sigh, his eyes closing as he lets himself flop back down to the pillow dramatically.
“N-no, I—”
Another loud sigh cuts the boy off.
“That’s fine, totally fine,” the bandaged man continued, his tone well-prepared for an acting class, “I mean, I only allowed you in my apartment, fed you, and comforted you. And yet you can’t even give me some peace of mind by settling down properly.”
As Dazai drapes his arm over his eyes to add to his act, emitting yet another loud sigh that sounds as loud as a fire alarm to Atsushi at the moment, the boy caves.
With a resigned huff, the boy clambers under the covers, keeping a reasonable distance from the warmth beside him. His senses are still being assaulted by every little sound and smell, and now his skin feels as though it’s been placed on pins. Maybe it has been—Atsushi feels too out of it to tell the difference between softness and pain right now. The duvet is the definition of overwhelming as the fibers press against Atsushi’s skin in a way that feels deliberate. Despite how soft the sheets look, it doesn’t make a difference. Allowing comfort has never been Atsushi’s forte. Never will be, probably.
He drags his gaze to Dazai, who is seemingly very pleased with having been able to convince the boy to lie down properly. Dazai shuffles to get under the covers as well, and for some reason, it doesn't make Atsushi any more nervous. He’s grinning ear to ear with a knowing glint in his eyes, like there’s some sort of joke that Atsushi isn’t in on.
“You cave easy.”
“‘Cuz you’re annoyin’ me.”
Atsushi says it like a scoff, but there’s no real bite behind it.
“I think it’s because you’re good at listening,” Dazai says much too honestly, his smile no longer laced with hidden meaning. “But I think a lot of people have been taking advantage of that.”
The sudden honesty fills the air with an impermeable thickness that makes it hard to breathe. He tracks Dazai’s gaze, which falls to the window, unaffected by the boy’s incredulous look. Atsushi wants to retort; prove him wrong by listing those few times where he didn’t listen. He wants to tell Dazai that he could care less if people take advantage of his lack of a backbone— that he wants people to do so in order to give his life purpose. He even opens his mouth to do it—
BANG!
Atsushi’s hands fly to his ears like they may fall off, his eyes wide and filled with terror. He tries to say something—Dazai’s name can’t even get past his lips before the noise comes again.
Thunder.
A storm.
The rain is pelting the roof and it sounds nothing like how movies make it sound. It’s not peaceful or aesthetic. It’s a cacophony that digs around the crevices of the boy’s head and tears from them little bits and pieces of horrific memories. His senses play that mean trick on him where they make everything smell like blood, everything sound like a slap, everything taste like starvation, everything feel like electrocution.
It hurts.
It isn’t real, but it hurts.
The pain is so real that tears bleed themselves from Atsushi’s screwed-shut eyes. It feels like he’s sobbing, but all he can hear is the sound of that lever being pulled. Somehow, that sound is louder than lightning. It feels as though he’s back there again, and all Atsushi can think is What if the director hears me crying? What if he starves me? What if he hits me again—
There’s hands on his own in an instant, pulling in an all-too calm manner considering the situation at hand, and revealing his eardrums to the offending sounds. Atsushi can’t help but cry harder. Then, his panicked thoughts are interrupted by a deafening silence.
Slowly, unsure, Atsushi opens his eyes.
Dazai looks almost concerned. Usually the man hides his emotions well. Maybe he couldn’t care to hide them right now.
Atsushi’s hands have found their way into Dazai’s, and he feels No Longer Human comforting him yet again. It’s a wonderful feeling that lulls his nerves to sleep. Maybe he’s died and gone to heaven. Then he realizes what’s stopped the noise. Headphones. That was what was in that little bag. There’s still more in there; Atsushi can see a faint outline of something. Dazai must notice his drifting gaze, because he pulls that something out, revealing..
A little stuffed tiger plush.
And it’s being offered out to him, shaken just enough to make the fluffy tail wave in the air. It’s enticing.
Atsushi stands no chance. There’s no way to stave off this feeling anymore—It was a useless fight from the start. His hands reach out, cautious and gentle, and he’s rewarded with the feeling of warmth.
It isn’t just the stuffed animal that’s soothing. Dazai had wrapped his arms around him and pulled Atsushi to his chest as if the boy were the only stuffed animal here. The actual stuffed tiger gets squished between them, which is slightly uncomfortable, but Atsushi couldn’t move even if he wanted to. His wet face is surely staining Dazai’s sleep shirt, but the man doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Now that Atsushi doesn’t feel as though he was in a battle zone, he notices how Dazai’s hand has traveled into his hair again, petting in an attempt to console.
There is such a stark contrast here. Even with his brain fogging over, Atsushi can still make that mental connection. This isn’t at all like the last time he had a panic attack in front of Dazai; it’s as though the brunette had suddenly been given a guide on how to deal with these situations.
But the realization passes, and instead the weretiger’s thoughts are replaced with static as he succumbs to the comfort of his friend’s hold on him. It’s almost too tight—Dazai is holding him as though he’ll slip away and never return. Atsushi watches, with limited cognitive understanding, as Dazai momentarily lifts his hand from his back and checks it over. If the boy didn’t have the headphones on, he would have most certainly heard Dazai sigh in relief.
The headphones don’t drown out everything; he can still hear an inkling of the thunder. And with Dazai this close, he can also hear the man speaking. It’s a wonder if Dazai knows the headphones aren’t fully soundproof.
“It’s okay, Atsushi,” Dazai soothes, but it sounds more like he's trying to convince himself rather than the trembling figure in his arms.
Atsushi doesn’t respond right away. It’s hard to get himself to even attempt to open his mouth right now, let alone actually speak. It seems Dazai doesn’t care if Atsushi responds or not, because he continues.
“It’s some scary thunder, hm? But I’m here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Dazai’s arms squeeze him harder, reassuring and almost parental, just for a second. He feels Dazai bury his face into his hair. Everything about this was making Atsushi slip further and further into his hazy mental state. It felt like he was floating.
“Really. I won’t hurt—I won’t let anything hurt you. I’m—”
Atsushi can tell that Dazai is struggling right now. And while he may also be struggling, that didn’t negate the fact that the man needed comfort right now, too. So Atsushi wraps his arms around Dazai’s torso, nuzzling into his chest a little more and causing the plushie between them to jostle. He can feel Dazai’s heart hammering against the palm placed on his back. Dazai isn’t even bothering to control it right now.
The feeling of Dazai’s proof of living against his warm hand acts as a lullaby, causing Atsushi’s eyes to finally close and a content sigh to be pushed into the air between them.
A while passes before the warmth against him speaks again. The thunder still rages outside. It felt as though nature herself was encouraging them to find comfort in each other. And then, soft enough to cause the storm to quiet down just so the words could be heard, Dazai breaks.
“...Atsushi, I’m so sorry for what I did.”
Only the space around them is graced with the confession, because Atsushi has fallen fast asleep against Dazai's heaving chest, his arms having gone lax around Dazai and his contrasting rhythmic breathing replacing the thunder.