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The last time he saw Atsushi was on that godforsaken night, an hour past midnight. Atsushi didn't have any missions, yet he still went to Dazai's office, seeking companionship and attention.
Dazai, however, wasn't as ardent as Atsushi was. He didn't pay attention to the younger man. Dazai's hands worked through his paperwork with ignorance equivalent to one's having to a piece of furniture. Nevertheless, Atsushi stayed, fidgeting restlessly with his gilt-violet doe eyes fixed on the older.
The intensity of the two shining orbs had Dazai quite unsettled. He was used to having eyes on him all the time, being the mafia boss and all, but the look Atsushi was giving him was different, tender, emotive, full of something Dazai didn't want to name.
Unable to deal with the raw emotions of Atsushi, Dazai sends him home, a surly command and cold tone leaves no place for objections. The weretiger's pensive expression broke into a sad one, but he obeyed nonetheless.
However, before he left, Atsushi trotted shyly to the grand desk where Dazai was sitting. He stood awkwardly in front of the centerpiece, shifting his weight from foot to another, waiting for his boss's attention. The brunette took great relish in seeing his tiger like this, although he didn't have much of a look at him.
A while later, Atsushi stepped closer, the tips of his ears a burning red, his fingers fumbled on the edge of the desk while opening and closing his mouth when no words came out. Dazai knew what Atsushi wanted. He wasn't in the mood to indulge with Atsushi in his abrupt whims, there was a time for everything.
The brunette heaved a sigh, to his ears the sigh sounded quite fond rather than annoyed, as it should be. Whatever Atsushi might do, it'd always be endearing to Dazai. However, Atsushi was naive with a plethora of emotions, it was Dazai's duty to keep him in check.
And so Dazai dismisses Atsushi without much of a second glance.
The last time Dazai saw Atsushi, the younger wanted a goodbye kiss, but Dazai had denied him this simple want.
✦
The rescue team returned empty-handed, their dark faces a foreboding of their failure and proof of their incapacity. At the harbor, Atsushi's last known whereabouts, they found hair, blood, severed limbs, and even some organs.
The tests clarify that two people were at the scene, Atsushi, and some unknown individual. They weren't registered in the mafia database, perhaps an outsider, then.
Dazai felt his well-honed restraint draining every time someone—whether it was the rescue team's leaders or the executives—tell him that Atsushi was probably dead.
It can't be right. Atsushi can't be dead. He always wanted to live, fought for a right to live. Atsushi had gone through worse and won, walked out with nothing but a scratch.
It's not fair for both of them, for Atsushi to die and Dazai to live.
It should have been Atsushi crying over Dazai's dead body, before moving on to find a life he would be happy and proud of.
Attending Atsushi's funeral with an empty grave wasn't supposed to happen in the living days of Dazai.
It was an error, a flaw in the fabric of destiny, an ill joke made by the universe.
The nightmare people call life felt more unbearable without Atsushi, the grim faces of his subordinates and the negative reports were a striking reminder that this nightmare was very real, and he wouldn't be waking up to an alive and healthy Atsushi by his side.
Dazai thought that nothing could rattle him, that he was invulnerable against all kinds of mundane feelings, but losing Atsushi—the vagueness of Atsushi's physical and spiritual condition—has stirred the feelings within Dazai. His obedient heart had disobeyed him for the first time, his pulse ascending to his throat at the mere mention of Atsushi, and descending into his isolation, accompanied by Atsushi's file, where the only photo of Atsushi exits.
In the span of the few days of Atsushi's disappearance, Dazai had experienced a set of varying emotions, but the worse was the guilt gnawing him. He hadn't ever thought he would have a taste of that embittered emotion.
What was wrong with him? Would it have hurt him if he gave in and allowed Atsushi a mere kiss? To let Atsushi stay for the night? Atsushi was strong, more than capable to take care of himself, but the feeling of rejection might have weakened him, a gap the attacker had used well.
And now, Atsushi's no longer here, just Dazai, the guilt, and the galling feeling of loss.
Dazai's fingers track the edge of the file, pondering over the photo within. In the photo, the person staring back hardly looks like Atsushi, empty eyes, rigid features, extremely different than Atsushi's lovesick eyes and timid smile. The photo was old. Dazai never felt the need to take a new one. He hadn't realized how much Atsushi changed until he lost him…
A rapid, respectful knock pulled him out of his thoughts.
He calls for the newcomer to enter after returning the photo and placing the file aside.
The individual entered confidently, bowing just as much before standing like he rather own the place. For the whole week, no one has set foot in this office with confidence as Hirotsu just did.
"Boss, you have a visitor,"
Dazai frowned. It wasn't Hirotsu job to arrange meeting for him, but he respects Hirotsu and his ways, although the old mafioso always tells him beforehand when he does something off the schedule.
"Why haven't I heard about this so-called visitor?"
"It was a surprise to me just as much…" Hirotsu replied, lips stretching into a thin grin, Dazai genuinely wondering what's the story behind it.
"A surprise you say…" the brunette began, his sole visible eye trailing to the file sitting innocently on his desk. Dazai had no idea what the nature of Atsushi's relationships with everybody else. He never asked, never cared. Was anyone else worried about Atsushi's disappearance or did Dazai pull him too close, insulating him from the rest of the world? A knot of dark feelings grew in his chest. "I don't want to see anyone, right now."
He tried waving off the older man, but the look upon Hirotsu was of a man dead set on finishing what he came for. "You won't take no as an answer, would you?"
"My apologies…" Hirotsu regrets, although he doesn't seem or sound sorry at all.
Dazai hummed, shifting his head to the side. His gaze met the view outside, colors overlapping in the sky, indigo fading into hot purple, and anurous orange emerging from behind the horizon, preparing for a new sunrise. All the work and meetings should've been finished by now. Dazai himself wouldn't have stayed this long if not for Atsushi's disappearance. He couldn't bring himself to go to his flat, it was his home, but only if Atsushi was within.
"Alright, let them in." Dazai sighed. He got nothing else to do.
✦
It wasn't hard for Dazai to know who attacked Atsushi that night. In the end, Fitzgerald had sent his men after Atsushi a couple of times before. Perhaps he finally decided to take it up to his hands.
On the morning of Atsushi's disappearance, Dazai didn't wait for the test results to bid a visit to the guild leader. Of course, the slug didn't let him go alone, insisting it might be a trap.
However, when they arrived, Fitzgerald was equally missing. The moment the guild members saw them, they started blaming and cussing in a foreign language. Soon after, both sides were barking and throwing insults back and forth. Dazai took the chance to slip away between the shadows. If Fitzgerald was alone, it would be rude if he took an army of men with him.
In the slums, Dazai found Fitzgerald. He was injured, nursing a broken rib and a missing arm. The gauze around what remained of his arm was red and dirty, just like the rest of him. Yet, all that wasn't enough to shatter his pride.
"Your tiger has given me a run for my money, quite literally." The blond man chuckled while shaking his severed arm before stopping once it becomes too painful.
Unlike him, Dazai doesn't have time to waste chatting with a man on the verge of dying. "Where's Atsushi?"
Fitzgerald didn't answer, instead a disgustingly wide grin stretched upon his face, "Guess I'm not the only one went lucking his wounds in some shady alley, though he's probably not missing any limbs like I do…"
Dazai took one step forward, his face unreadable, his hand going to his gun at his hip.
"But if you were asking whether he was alive or not…"
Dazai stopped in his tracks. Fitzgerald wasn't even looking at the younger man, his crystal-blue eyes fixed on the space before him. "The weretiger was alive when our fight came to an end. He was so disturbed, most of his wounds were made of his own…"
Fitzgerald paused, heaved a breath before getting onto his feet. A hiss broke through the silence as he adjusted his stance. "When he departed, he was unstable, looked seconds away from stumbling into the ocean or dropping before a truck,"
With that, he walked away, waving his hand in dismissal, "Now, if you excuse me, I have a deal to make if I want my arm back…"
Fitzgerald wasn't of any help, that much is obvious.
✦
Dazai doesn't want to let go. The body in his embrace—Atsushi's very alive and very whole body—felt too real, but he feared the second he let go, Atsushi might disappear once again.
He stuck his face in Atsushi's hair, he reeked of brackish water and grass, like a wild animal, and that's what he was, Dazai's wild kitty.
Suddenly, two hands firmly grasp his shoulders, forcing him away. Atsushi stumbled as he put a space between them, a scowl twisted in his usual soft face, "Dazai-san, I…" he stopped, voice heavy with hesitation. "I came to say goodbye…"
Dazai stared unblinkingly, something changed about Atsushi beside his clothes and smell, something within his eyes, within his very soul, but he refused to acknowledge it.
"Come'n Atsushi-kun, you must be tired—" Dazai outstretched his hand, but Atsushi, for the first time, didn't reach back, "Atsushi-kun…?"
"I'm sorry…" the younger steps away, "I do not wish to stay here any longer…"
Atsushi could've stabbed Dazai, it would've been much easier.
The brunette remains silent, giving Atsushi space to explain himself. The gap between them grows with time. "I wanted to remain dead and never return…"
Atsushi trailed off, biting his bottom lip, his eyes flickering between Dazai and the ground, "but I can not lie to you."
Atsushi face seemed genuine, he sounded genuine, nothing was hinting at a lie, and that was the worst part. Atsushi wanted to leave.
Dazai fell back, perching on the nearest seat, his eye was on Atsushi in front of him, but his muses pondered through and past the weretiger. What could've led to this? Why and when did Atsushi decide such?
Despite all the questions storming within his mind, he thought better than to ask. Answers wouldn't change the truth, so instead he asked, "Are you planning to go to the agency? Where have you sent Kyouka-chan before?"
Surprise flickered through the pained expression of Atsushi, waning a second too late, enough for Dazai to see, "No, I'll go somewhere else, to the north…"
"And why have you returned?" Dazai clenched his fist, nails digging into the tender skin, "what if I didn't let you go?" this wasn't a question, but something he was a hair away from doing.
The younger stride closer before placing a hand gently upon Dazai's taut fist. Atsushi's fingers caressed the back of his hand fondly before cupping Dazai's hand between his palms, "then I'll stay."
Atsushi was being unfair, his loyalty, his adoration, and the way his fingers fumbled over the brunette palm. Dazai felt something dark growing within him, possessive and unyielding, but before it could take root, he ripped his hand off Atsushi's hold, "then go…"
Atsushi looked unfazed, if a little disturbed, he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves. "why don't you come with me?" he pecked up, eyes dimly lit with hope.
"I'll wait for you, as long as it takes!" he pleaded for one more time. Atsushi begging pathetically was tenfold more infuriating to Dazai than Atsushi's wish to leave.
"I did not stay because I wanted, but because I have to," Dazai answered, voice intense with restraint. "the only way for me out of this organization is inside a casket."
Dazai stood up, leaving his bigger frame and presence towering over Atsushi, "I am no mere pawn to leave whenever I desire."
Nor does Atsushi can. Dazai could force him to stay using the mafia's rules, but he knows better than anyone that there's a chance for Atsushi, albeit low.
The younger stared unblinkingly, his bottom lip trembling, and aside from that, he looked well put together, "Right, I'm sorry for my naivety…" he took a breath. "thank you for the permission,"
The weretiger look up at Dazai, not a hint of anger or resentment could be seen, as he should, "I'll miss you."
I'll miss you too.
He wanted to say it back, he had to, yet words didn't leave his mouth and his tongue felt heavy.
Dazai would miss him, miss his obedience and insurgency, his strength and debility, his voice, eyes, and every precious feature of his. He would miss Atsushi so damn much.
But in lieu of voicing it, he stayed still, watching as Atsushi stepped away, turned around and started his way outside the office, to leave for good.
He couldn't believe himself, letting Atsushi slip between his hands so easily.
"Atsushi-kun…" Dazai called the younger once he was by the door, separated by enough distance for either of them to cut the conversation short, "is there anything you want?"
Atsushi stopped before looking over his shoulder at Dazai, eyes shiny with tears and raw emotions, "I would've said kiss, but…"
The objection at the end has drained all hope the first part brought. Dolefully, Atsushi broke eye contact, looking before him as he held the door knob. The latch clack was loud against the silence. Atsushi took one step through the door before resuming, "perhaps you don't love me as much as I do."
With that, Atsushi scurried out.
Alone with his thoughts, Dazai bumped his hands on the desk, time flew by, a wet drop rolling down his cheek nudged him out of his absence.
A finger wiped it off, "Wish we were teardrops, it'll be easier to forget each other like that."