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It was a quiet, unassuming afternoon.
Too quiet, in fact.
Partly out of boredom and partly out of craving, Atsushi had decided to make tea, getting up and setting a kettle of water on the stove to boil. He hums absentmindedly, grabbing a teabag from the cabinet. His fingers tap against the counter. His girlfriend, Lucy, was still at work.
He was glad they’d moved.
The city really was gorgeous, even if it was noisy. Their new place wasn’t too far from the agency, and the train station was a ten minute walk away. There was also a somewhat obscured view of the ocean, roiling waves always visible from his bedroom.
It was very nice no longer having to sleep in his (Kyouka’s?) closet. The dark always unsettled him, and Kyouka slept super quietly so he could never really tell where he was. The walls almost felt like they were closing in on him. Thankfully, Kyouka had picked up on it even if Atsushi didn’t speak up and bought a small string of fairy lights for him to hang up so he could see if he needed to. He didn’t use them anymore, but they still sat in the back of his storage for sentimental reasons.
The kettle loudly announces that it was at boiling temperature with a screeching whistle, making Atsushi jump. In his haste to take it off the heat and stop the noise, he knocks into the countertop, getting scalding hot water across the back of his hand. He pulls away quickly, taking the kettle off the stove.
All noise ceases except for the harsh breaths practically echoing in the kitchen. The almost-silence of the atmosphere is stifling; deafening and entirely suffocating. Atsushi half-expected someone to jump out from behind a piece of furniture and start yelling at him for messing up. The clock didn’t tick. The sink didn’t drip. There was nothing.
And that felt wrong.
It did not feel correct. Someone should be shouting at him and dragging him off by an arm; he should be much shorter and there should be observant little eyes watching there should be murmuring and whispering and muttering, and there should be something instead of nothing because he had done something wrong.
It was suffocating.
Of course he had done something wrong.
Of course.
His hands were shaking awfully hard for an injury that barely even hurt anymore. He was overreacting, as he does for just any old situation. He should be over this, patch himself up and make his tea and be done. The water was surely cold by now but there was nothing he could do about that other than put it back on the stove but he just felt stuck.
There’s a clicking sound of a key sliding into a lock and the door opening and he thinks that his heart might just jump out of his chest.
“Atsushi? I’m home!”
Atsushi’s a little lost, he doesn’t respond and he doesn’t know how to. He hears Lucy mumble something about him probably being in the bathroom. She’s setting her stuff down and toeing her shoes off, the rustle of a plastic container indicating some sort of pastry having been brought home. Lucy finds him quickly, the kitchen not having any sort of door or anything. He’s aware of how stupid he must look, a gradually fading burn spread across his hand and he’s just standing there, stock-still.
“Tabby cat?”
Lucy was behind him, so she couldn’t really see what was going on. She pauses.
“You alright?”
After a while of not getting a response, Lucy starts to step around him, eventually spotting the burn. It was currently blistered, Atsushi’s regeneration impeded by the heat lingering in his skin and flesh.
Tentatively, Lucy takes one of his hands, leading him to the sink and turning on the water. He lets himself be moved. She brings the injured hand up to the stream, letting cool water splash on it. Atsushi flinches at the first contact of it against his skin, but the tension slowly winds out of him with each passing minute.
It takes Atsushi about fifteen minutes to realize that he’s crying. There’s still tap water running over his hand, and the burn was slowly starting to go away because of his ability. He sniffles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
Atsushi opens his mouth to explain, but comes up with nothing. What does he even say? Sorry for being stupid? Sorry for messing up? He doesn’t quite know what to say, so he gives up. Lucy simply hums in acknowledgement, accepting it. He watches as her eyes flick back to the clock, the water shutting off as she went to grab something for him to wipe his hands on. She returns quickly, handing him a towel from the bathroom. He dries his hands. It stings a bit, but that was to be expected.
Atsushi fidgets, the silence awkward. He starts to explain what had happened, how he was going to make tea but the kettle sound startled him and he bumped into the counter and the hot water splashed on him. He ends off his explanation with another apology. Lucy simply said that it was fine, then puts the kettle back on the stove to warm again.
They sit on the couch, a safe distance from the boiling water this time. Atsushi’s leaned into Lucy’s side, silently worried that he was being too clingy until she pulled him closer. This time, when the high-pitched whistle comes from the kitchen, Lucy goes to get it instead and there’s soon two mugs of steeping tea resting on the table. When it’s done, Atsushi goes to grab them.
They take their first sips together, snuggled into each other on the couch again. Eventually, the tea is finished off, both of them falling asleep as it began to rain outside.