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It was dark, thick and all-consuming, indiscriminate in Its destruction. Atsushi often pictured It as a black sludge that worked Its way through his veins and to his heart, leaving a chill in every nerve and cell as It passed, drowning him from the inside. It would never truly leave, lying dormant before striking again at Its own discretion.
The fact that he didn’t deserve to live.
While having lunch with Kenji, filing reports for Kunikida, running errands for Dr. Yosano - It crept its way up his spine and through his limbs, cold as ice, rendering him even more useless.
It was especially active around Dazai.
Standing next to his superior, It curled tightly up his legs, urging him to run, run, run. Whenever Atsushi was alone, vulnerable, It filled his lungs, rising up his throat and out of his mouth as a sob. He could see the blackness spilling from his eyes, his nose, his lips.
But Dazai could see it, too.
With a gentle, bandaged hand on his shoulder, fingers threading through his hair and nails lightly grazing over his scalp, slightly chapped lips pressed to his eyes, his nose, his lips - the sludge quickly retreated, slinking away in defeat.
Dazai’s touch, warm and steadfast, kept It at bay. Atsushi often pictured it as a white light that burned its way through the blackness in his veins, leaving sparks in every nerve and cell as it passed, making Atsushi lightheaded and breathless. It would never truly leave, lying dormant until it was needed again.
The idea that he was loved.