Work Text:
He waits patiently, counts the time in his head, tapping the desk with each second that passes: One. Two. Three. And now —
“Is there something on my face, Dazai-san?”
Dazai’s smile turns smaller, a bit more sincere and a whole lot fonder. It is like an instinct at this point, elicited out of him as a natural response to Atsushi’s voice. The way the boy says his name so gently, like he is cradling something precious on his tongue, it makes Dazai burn. It makes him greedy. It makes him want to hear his name again and again from that sweet mouth.
“No,” he answers, humming, continuing to tap the desk in a pleasant rhythm.
Atsushi frowns and pauses his work to look at him directly before asking, “Then why have you been staring at me for the past half an hour?”
“It’s actually been more than an hour, Atsushi-kun!” he corrects, cheerily. “We need to work on improving your observation and instinctual senses more and not depend entirely on the tiger for the same.”
“Right,” Atsushi nods, easily diverted in the direction Dazai wanted him to. He takes out his pocket-sized notepad, containing all the advice and information he receives from his superiors regarding his ability and his job, not leaving a single stone unturned to keep improving.
A rush of affection surges within Dazai, a strong tide which threatens to dismantle all his bones and muscles. Even though it makes him breathless and overwhelmed at the same time, a fearful experience which leaves him shaking, Dazai keeps coming to the shore to watch the moon rise high, see the ocean move as per that white hole’s will.
It is an enchanting scene, much like Atsushi’s whole being. Dazai finds himself unable to stray his eyes away. This unwarranted compulsion should make him feel powerless, defenceless and helpless but all it has done till now is make Dazai softer, lighter and dare he admit, happier.
Atsushi doesn’t seem to notice, just like he doesn’t notice Dazai watching him. But it isn’t his fault. Dazai rarely allows others to see him when he doesn’t want to and honestly, he is a bit surprised that Atsushi sensed his gaze even if not entirely from the beginning. He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind anything much when it comes to this boy.
“See,” Atsushi says, pointing a finger at him, “you are doing it again, Dazai-san!”
He leans his head against his palm, tilts it ever so slightly and Dazai is aware that his eyes are half-lidded when he rasps out low, “Doing what?” nearly purring as he feigns innocence.
Atsushi’s own eyes widen at his tone, the sunset in them is bright and alluring when they look at Dazai. Pink blooms on Atsushi’s cheeks as his lips part to take an audible breath in. The rough strands of white flutter over his face. He takes a moment to tuck them behind his ear and gather himself.
Atsushi is audibly flustered when he says, “Staring at me,” so quiet, it would have been impossible to hear lest Dazai has not been sitting this close to him.
“Well, it is a pretty view,” he maintains the huskiness in his voice, purposefully drawling his words, leaning in towards Atsushi who sputters and stutters something incomprehensible.
Cute. “Mind repeating that again?” He leans in further, careful to observe every line in the other’s body for any note of uncomfortable twist, ready to back away immediately if he does.
But Atsushi doesn’t look any sort of uncomfortable or uneasy. He is just shy, boyishly charming. One moment he looks at Dazai and in another he looks away, again and again, like he doesn’t quite know if he is allowed to have Dazai this near to him. Such a silly boy.
As if the light still shining on Dazai’s eclipsed planet doesn’t entirely belong to Atsushi.
“Hm?” He prompts. “I am waiting, Atsushi-kun.”
“...Close,” Atsushi croaks slowly like his throat has been sucked dry. “You are too close, Dazai-san.”
“Want me to step back?”
Atsushi stills, holds his eyes, his breath and all of Dazai’s heart in his battle-hardened hands. He can crush Dazai now if he so wishes by just a single word, a single shake of his head and even if it would be cruel, Dazai will die smiling.
But Atsushi is kind.
And there isn’t a weapon as sharp as kindness to render Dazai immobile. He knows Atsushi will soften the blow. It is going to ache when the boy will affirm and request Dazai to move back, to quell down his affection for they will remain unreciprocated but it won’t hurt, not really, as all his pain and remedy will ultimately have Atsushi’s name.
Dazai smiles and he doesn’t hide this time. He is a broken mirror and he lets the cracks show.
Ah, he must paint quite a haunting sight, Dazai assumes seeing Atsushi gulp and skip a breath.
Just as he begins to accept the unsaid rejection, putting the cloak back onto the shattered glass, Atsushi stretches a trembling hand towards his face and asks, when he is just a hair’s breadth away from touching the skin on Dazai’s cheek, “Can I?”
Dazai nods easily. He is only Atsushi’s, whether to break or to love.
He leaves the choice in Atsushi’s hand at last. His fingers graze Dazai’s skin cautiously at first, barely touching him like he is afraid that the blisters on his skin will give Dazai new scars, adding to the ones already littered under the bandages and deeper within his soul.
It would be an honour to Dazai nonetheless, after all, who wouldn’t want to bleed under the moonlight.
Atsushi, though, has a penchant for surprising Dazai at times and moments unforeseen by him.
Like right now.
Dazai is taken aback when instead of taking his hand back after having his strange curiosity fulfilled, Atsushi rips apart the hinges and boldly cups his cheeks, holding Dazai’s face in both of his hands.
His eyes widen, so does his heart as a stranger enters his permits, a rare hope rooting in his chest.
“Atsushi-kun.”
“Dazai-san,” a whisper, a melody, a lifeline; Atsushi’s existence begins and ends with this name.
“What is it?” He asks softly, not setting the hope free until he acquires what he’s been longing for so long.
Atsushi doesn’t make him wait, he gives it easily when he says, “Stay,” offering Dazai a smile. It is small, an uncanny reflection of Dazai’s own, Atsushi’s own cracks and pieces glinting sharp and sad.
To Dazai, none of it matters. Broken priorly or not, Atsushi is beautiful and brighter than any sky.
Atsushi is his, to adore and to love.
Putting a final stamp to the envelope, Atsushi too affirms, “You can stay, Dazai-san.”
“This close?” He asks, teasing and grinning cheekily. Hope flying happily above as relief takes its place.
“Yes.”
“What if I want to get even closer?” He asks as he follows his words and indeed gets even closer.
As expected, Atsushi flushes bright red and loses his voice, managing only a low, “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”