Chapter Text
Nights at the orphanage are always eerily quiet. The building is surrounded by nothing but a thick forest that prevents any sounds from reaching its walls. Atsushi curls in on himself under a thin blanket, careful to keep his feet away from the streak of moonlight coming from the window.
He's always felt restless during the full moon. He doesn't know why.
It started years ago, in his first year in this place. At first, it was just a mild uneasiness, a strange feeling in his stomach. Atsushi thought he had eaten something bad—it wouldn't be the first time the food in the orphanage made someone feel sick—but then came the itchiness of his skin growing stronger each month, later joined by a rumble in his head, sometimes almost a roar.
It's strange. Dazai-san has theories about it, but Dazai-san has theories about everything, and each new one sounds weirder than the ones before, so it doesn't really help. Atsushi would rather not dwell on it, but it's hard not to think about it when the experience repeats every month.
Tonight there's an energy under his skin, buzzing like a swarm of bees, making Atsushi want to jump from the bed, open the window, and scream into the night like a wild animal. He scratches the itching skin on his hands, on his legs, hard enough to draw blood, when he hears a rustle on the other side of the room, the side where Dazai sleeps. In the dark, Atsushi can make out the silhouette of the other boy on his bed. He knows Dazai is not asleep; he's usually up, thinking about everything and nothing, as he once explained it to Atsushi.
Quietly, Atsushi slips from under the blanket and shivers when his bare feet touch the cold ground. He takes his steps carefully, trying not to make any sound that could alert the orphanage staff or the other kids, and walks towards Dazai's side of the room.
He reaches with his hand and grasps the bandaged forearm of the other boy.
"The moon's out," Atsushi whispers. "I need you."
Wordlessly, Dazai motions for him to climb into the bed and covers them both with his blanket, hiding them from the moonlight.
Somehow only this helps. It's another thing Atsushi doesn't understand, why the touch of Dazai's skin makes the buzz in his head go away, why on those strange nights of the full moon nothing brings him the clarity of mind except for Dazai's hand in his.
His grip gets tighter.
"What's happening to me," Atsushi whispers, fighting back the urge to cry.
"I don't know," Dazai whispers back. "But we'll figure it out, I promise."