Work Text:
Atsushi's not sure what to do with himself.
The Headmaster — his father? — is dead. Dead and gone. He's never coming back.
Atsushi's not sure what to do with himself. Surely there's something he's supposed to do.
Byakko tells him he shouldn't grieve. Her words aren't exactly distinct, but Atsushi knows what she means. Byakko tells him that the Headmaster was the worst man in his life, and that he doesn't deserve Atsushi's grief.
But still, Dazai's words echo in his head— most people tend to cry when their father dies.
Right now, Atsushi is sitting in the closet of his and Kyouka's room, blankets pulled tight around him. He's just... sitting there, in bed, staring blankly at the wall.
What is he to do?
Today's a work day. Kyouka already left without him — usually, she'd wait for him, but he convinced her that he'd only be a minute, and he didn't want to make her late. In truth, Atsushi hasn't made a single move since then.
He should get out of bed. Atsushi knows that. He should get up, and get dressed, and have something to eat, and then go straight to the office. He should, and Byakko is stirring within him, telling him he has to, but...
It's like he's frozen. Paralyzed. Some sort of fatigue has chained him to his bed, and he can't get himself to do anything but sit and stare.
Distantly, Atsushi can hear soft sounds coming from the rest of the room — the light ticking of the clock, and the low hum of the refrigerator.
His ear flicks, swiveling to listen more intently. Maybe if he just... focuses on that, he can ground himself. Come back to himself, and live again, and get to work like he's been needing to.
Tick, tock, tick, tock...
...
He blinks. It takes more effort than usual. His eyes feel heavy, and his head is faint. That— That didn't work, not at all.
In fact, Atsushi feels like he's only fallen further into this... daze, for lack of a better word.
He feels distant. Detached. Far, far away— his mind is growing foggy, hard to discern one thing from another.
He almost... feels like a little kid again.
The more he thinks about it, the more Atsushi realizes it's like he's stuck in the cage once more.
This foreign fatigue— it's chaining him just the same way he was chained all those years ago. And the closet is similarly dark, only soft rays of light coming in from the cracks around the door.
Atsushi is trapped, and he's not sure he'll ever get out.
The Headmaster's voice echoes around in his mind, loud and overwhelming to the point where he can't even discern the words— all he knows is that it's overpowering. So much so, to the point where he doesn't hear the door to his dorm creaking open, nor does he hear footsteps getting closer, nor the voice calling for his name.
His cheeks are warm and wet. Is he crying?
Atsushi presses his palms into his eyes, trying to will away the tears he hadn't realized were about to fall. It doesn't work.
He thinks he sobs, maybe— but he can hardly hear it over the Headmaster's barks.
A warm light paints his vision just slightly, peeking through the tiny slivers of sight his palms don't quite cover. Did someone open the cage? Is he free? He can't be, he's still chained— it must be a punishment, then, it must be—
“Hey, Atsushi," comes a voice, familiar and yet still so scary. A whine rips its way out of his throat, and his mind screams at him to pull away, to run, to hide— but where could he go? He's trapped, Atsushi reminds himself.
He curls into an even tighter ball instead, hoping that maybe if he just makes himself small enough, the strange man will leave him alone.
...He doesn't, though. Atsushi can't see him, but he knows that he's still there.
Eventually, he speaks up again. "Can I touch you, kiddo?"
He freezes.
...Can he?
The strange man, he— he's not the Headmaster, Atsushi knows that much. He must work for the orphanage, because that's where they are right now, aren't they? But not all the orphanage workers were bad to him. Well— most of them were, but not all of them. Maybe... Maybe Atsushi is lucky, and this one's one of the good ones.
And even if he was one of the bad ones, well... maybe Atsushi deserves it. He's a bad kid, isn't he? Whatever punishment this man has come to give him, he's sure it's for good reason.
Atsushi's scared, terrified, even, but he nods.
But instead of the rough, harsh hands he's expecting, Atsushi receives a light pressure on his back. And slowly, gently, the man starts to rub in circles, up and down.
"You're safe," he says. Atsushi's breath hitches— how many times has he been told that, and how many more times has it been a lie? "I mean it."
The strange man falls silent, continuing to rub Atsushi's back for what feels like hours. He keeps up the same amount of pressure, and Atsushi finds himself slowly relaxing, unfurling from the tight ball he'd curled himself into.
His hands fall from where they'd been pressing into his eyes, and he sniffles as he slowly opens his eyes.
Atsushi isn't in the cage. He's in his closet, and the man rubbing his back is Dazai.
Dazai.
He goes to speak, but all that comes out is a weak, “Da.”
His face burns.
“I’m here,” says Dazai, “We’re in your closet. It’s about lunchtime, okay? You didn’t show up to the agency, so I came to check on you. Everything’s okay.”
His mind feels blank, if only for a moment, as Atsushi comes to recognize what’s going on. Dazai’s worried about him. Worried to the point of coming to check on him; worried to the point of making the effort to try and pull him out of a spiral.
Atsushi turns, grasping at Dazai’s clothes. His movements are sluggish, weak— it’s like he’s moving through water.
“Why?” he asks, his voice a frail whisper.
Dazai’s brow furrows. “Why, what?”
Atsushi only whimpers in response, pressing his face into his mentor’s shoulder.
It’s silent, for a moment. The only sounds Atsushi hears are his own sniffles, and Dazai’s deep breaths.
Then, Dazai sighs.
He tenses, expecting the worst— but all that comes is a simple, “Because I love you, Atsushi.”
He stills.
It’s quiet again. The words seep into his skin, slowly, soothingly, wrapping around him like a soft blanket.
Because I love you, Atsushi.
Atsushi wails, wrapping his arms around Dazai and clinging tight. Endless cries spill out from his lips, loud and hopeless and desperate.
“Shh, kid, I know,” Dazai murmurs, his voice low, “I know.”