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“I’m a burden to you.”
Osamu’s hand slipped and he almost cut his finger on the knife he was washing.
He didn’t dare face Atsushi yet, choosing instead to watch their reflections in the window above the sink. Atsushi’s head was hanging and his fists were balled at his side.
“What makes you say that?” Osamu said evenly. He casually dropped the knife in the sink to be dealt with when his hands weren’t shaking too badly to continue.
“I… I can’t do anything right. I failed another test at school. And I know the business is struggling and you’re having to feed both of us. I saw that you didn’t take a lunch with you yesterday or today because you’re trying to—”
“Atsushi, enough.”
What did the universe have against this kid? As if the orphan Osamu had taken in on a whim was anything but an angel who couldn’t see his own damn self-worth? Osamu never once regretted it—not when Atsushi told him about the girl he’d picked wildflowers with at recess. Or when he came home from school late because he was helping an old lady cross the street. Or when Atsushi sat patiently through Kunikida—Osamu’s business partner’s—three hour lecture on the importance of proper organization. Actually, Atsushi may have fallen asleep during that. Osamu still wasn’t sure.
And yes, they struggled. What single parent didn’t? Private eyes by nature didn’t exactly have a steady sourse of income. Osamu still worked late nights and grueling days, but now he had his little pile of moonlight to come home to, asleep on the couch with silver hair twisted into bedhead because he’d tried to wait up for him.
Osamu bridged the gap between them and put his hands on Atsushi’s shoulders. The kid still refused to meet his eyes.
“Nice try, kid. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
That got him to look up at least. He stared at Osamu in confusion. “What?”
“I know. I know. My socks stink and you want this place all to yourself. Kunikida says I’m insufferable, but I stick to him like a leech.”
The kid was sharp. Osamu wouldn’t have bothered with him if he wasn’t. He cottoned on to what Osamu was doing, but it just made him avert his gaze again.
“Dazai-san, you’re going to get tired of me eventually. You don’t have to be nice about it.”
Ah. Osamu didn’t know much about Atsushi’s past, but they were tiptoeing around it, occasionally brushing up against it. Something dark that he’d tried hard to bury roiled inside of him as he had the urge to inflict whatever pain this kid had endured tenfold. He’d been here… six months? He hadn’t expected to make it that long. Time to make the message clearer then. Osamu wrapped an arm around Atsushi’s back and pulled him close.
“Atsushi, I chose to bring you into my life. You’re wanted. I’m so much happier with you here.”
It took a small eternity for Atsushi to wrap his arms around Osamu in turn. Osamu rubbed soothing circles into his shaking shoulders and ignored the wet spots he could feel forming on the front of his shirt.
“What you said about me getting tired of you? That sounded like a challenge.” He felt Atsushi tense and hugged him a little tighter. “You’d be surprised how long I can tolerate people. I’ll tell you when I’m tired, okay?” Atsushi nodded.
They both knew he never would.