Work Text:
Atsushi was no stranger to nightmares or flashbacks related to his traumatic upbringing. Lately, he hadn’t had too many nightmares, or at least had ones that weren’t too distressing. He knew that if he was feeling more stressed, the nightmares got worse.
After his encounter with the Port Mafia’s “Q,” Atsushi was undeniably more stressed than he had been in months. The familiar feelings of worthlessness and shame clawed through his dreams, and it seemed like it was getting worse and worse.
One evening in particular, the fear reached its peak.
Atsushi woke, crying out into the dark of his dorm. His heart was racing, he could feel the veins in his neck twitching with each pulse. He was sweaty, or maybe crying, or both. He sat up quickly, reaching for a lamp. Too dark, too dark.
The light blinded him for a moment after the bulb lit up. The blankets of his futon were a tangled mess, evidence of his thrashing. His breaths kept coming in and out too fast, and his head felt fuzzy. Atsushi felt his stomach twist, and he scrambled on his hands and knees to the bathroom. With a gagging sob, he vomited the evidence of dinner into the toilet. When he finished, he pulled the handle with a shaking hand to flush, and slumped down, pressing his face into the cold, hard surface of the tub.
Atsushi was still crying, sobbed breaths sucking in erratically. I need to calm down, calm down, calm down, he thought to himself. He reached for the tub knobs, and cranked the cold water on. As the shower water began to rain down, he stripped out of his clothes and stepped under the stream. The cold water felt sharp against his hot skin. It was unpleasant, but Dazai had told him once that a cold shower can help during a panic attack.
Ah, Dazai…
Closing his eyes as water rolled down his face, Atsushi imagined Dazai, cracking jokes and smiling at him gently. He remembered Dazai’s words from that day, “Do not pity yourself. If you do, your life will be an endless nightmare.” Atsushi knew Dazai was right, he thought as a fresh tear ran down his cheek, but pulling himself out of the pit of despair seemed impossible. He crumpled down onto the cold floor of the shower, hugging himself tightly.
After a while, Atsushi finally felt his breaths slow, and eventually the water didn’t feel quite as icy. His body felt numb as he stood and turned the shower off. He dried off and dressed himself in fresh sleep clothes and returned to his futon. As he laid and settled under the covers, he looked at his phone to check the time.
“Three AM?” Atsushi groaned to himself, dropping the phone back down by his pillow. His body was exhausted, but when he closed his eyes, the fear came creeping back. The fear of losing control and hurting the people he cared about, the fear of becoming a monster.
By the time sunlight started to spill into his window, Atsushi had not slept, despite his best efforts. Even so, he got out of bed and brushed his teeth to get rid of the lingering taste of vomit. He ran his fingers through his hair to neaten it, watching his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, and he had developed shadows under his eyes. He hoped no one would notice.
Atsushi got dressed, and made his way to the armed detective agency headquarters. The day felt as if it dragged on, but thankfully, no one seemed to think anything was wrong with him. Dazai did cast a few inspecting glances in Atsushi’s direction, but didn’t say anything.
At the end of the work day, Atsushi excused himself and went straight home. He felt, truly, like he was dying. Exhaustion made all of his limbs feel heavy, and his head was starting to ache. He managed to eat dinner before collapsing into his futon. He didn’t bother to change into pajamas, opting to simply kick off his pants and toss his accessories to the side. Atsushi curled over himself in only his work shirt and underwear, praying for sleep.
He would have no such luck.
Atsushi managed to drift unconscious for moments, but jolted awake whenever he felt himself starting to dream. He cried a bit, feeling pathetic, and so, so tired. He almost wished someone would come and knock him out with physical force.
Again, the sun rose and Atsushi got out of bed. He pulled his black pants on again, not bothering to change his shirt, despite it now being well-wrinkled. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, grimacing at his reflection. His eyes were puffy from crying, and the shadows underneath had darkened. Even so, Atsushi went on to work, pretending to be fine.
Atsushi thought he was doing a good job of acting normal, that is, until Dazai approached him with the report he’d just submitted. “Atsushi?” Dazai’s voice broke through Atsushi’s haze, jolting his attention to the man.
“Y-yes?” Atsushi looked up at his mentor.
Dazai frowned. Atsushi looked absolutely dreadful, pitiful even. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine!” Atsushi answered quickly. “Um, why do you ask?”
Dazai looked down at the paperwork in his hand. “Your reports are usually well done. This looks like a drunk man wrote it.” Atsushi took the pages, flipping through it. Sure enough, the sentences, if they could be called such, were erratic and missing words, or just plain making no sense.
Atsushi sank in his chair. “I’m sorry, Dazai…”
“You haven’t been sleeping.” Dazai’s voice was even, not accusing or questioning, just stating the facts.
Atsushi felt his eyes moisten, “N-no… I-,” His words were stopped by one of Dazai’s fingers pressing to his lips. Dazai pulled him up by the shoulder, walking toward the exit.
“Kunikida~ I’m taking Atsushi home. He’s not feeling well.” Dazai announced to the man across the office. Before Kunikida could start shouting about slacking off, the two of them slipped out of the headquarters. Dazai walked with Atsushi to his dorm, holding him around the shoulder. He was too tired to feel embarrassed, and beyond that, Dazai’s touch was comforting.
Things were a blur as the two entered Atsushi’s dorm. Dazai undressed Atsushi and dressed him in pajamas, and all Atsushi could do was squeak in resistance or mortification. Atsushi was steered to his futon, and he instinctively sat down and pulled the blanket over his lap.
Dazai sat beside him, reaching out a bandaged arm to cup one of Atsushi’s cheeks. The gentleness of it made Atsushi want to cry. “Atsushi,” Dazai started, “you need to sleep.”
“I… I can’t.” Atsushi clutched the blanket over his lap. “Every time I even start to fall asleep, the nightmares are there and, and it’s so bad.” His voice cracked, and tears found his eyes again. “I don’t know what to do.”
Dazai brushed a tear with his thumb, “I’ll watch over you.” Atsushi’s lip quivered, he wanted to accept Dazai’s help, but he was worried it wouldn’t be effective.
“Okay.” Atsushi agreed, taking a deep breath and blinking away tears. He laid down, and Dazai humorously tucked the futon underneath him, almost like swaddling a baby. The other man sat on the floor beside the futon, pulling his book out of his pocket.
“Sleep, Atsushi.” Dazai coaxed, and Atsushi let his eyes slide closed. Fatigue washed over him.
Atsushi managed to fall asleep. His slumber was dreamless at first, but suddenly, he was the tiger. He stood in front of Naomi, growling and baring his teeth. His mind screamed for it to stop as the tiger lunged forward.
Blood filled his vision, and he screamed.
Atsushi shot up, ears deaf to his own cries. He was breathing fast, and choked on a gasp when two strong arms grabbed him. He let himself be pulled into Dazai’s lap, head being cradled into Dazai’s chest. He sobbed, finding handfuls of Dazai’s coat.
A hand caressed the top of his hair. “It’s okay, Atsushi.” Dazai’s voice became an anchor to reality. “You were just dreaming.”
“D-Dazai…” Atsushi whimpered. “Sorry.”
Dazai hummed softly. “You slept for an hour, you still need more.”
Atsushi looked up, meeting Dazai’s eyes. “B-but…”
With a huff, Dazai pushed Atsushi down back to lay down. “At~su~shi~ Dying from a lack of sleep is a terrible way to kill yourself. I don’t recommend it.” He fixed the blanket back, tucking the fabric under Atsushi’s body once more. This time, Dazai laid on his side beside him on top of the blanket, propping himself up with an arm. “Listen to your superior, and sleep.” Dazai’s voice carried the familiar playful lilt, and Atsushi found himself unable to protest.
He’d blame that on the exhaustion, not at Dazai’s close proximity.
Dazai rested his free hand on Atsushi’s chest. The weight of it was comfortable, and Atsushi let his eyes close again. He could smell Dazai from this close, catching a memory of coffee beneath the general scent of his skin and bandages. Atsushi fell asleep wondering about how long it takes Dazai to wrap himself up like that every day.
Atsushi’s dream began again, him as the tiger. He was truly ferocious like this, sharp teeth and claws aching with blood lust. He turned for prey, and found Dazai, arms outstretched. Atsushi leapt at him, going for the kill. Instead of bloodshed, when the two men collided, Atsushi became himself once more, folding into Dazai’s chest. Somehow, the scene felt nostalgic. Dream Dazai held him gently, and the scenery changed. They were in a field then, warm sunlight bathing both of them. Atsushi clutched Dazai’s hand, fingers laced together.
It was a nice dream.
When Atsushi woke again, he felt substantially better. The position of the sun had changed, so he must have been asleep for a few hours at least. Sleepily, he rolled onto his side, seeking out the warm body beside him. Dazai had dozed off as well, and didn’t stir when Atsushi nuzzled his face into his chest.
With a content sigh, Atsushi felt himself drift to sleep again, this time with no worry of nightmares.