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Atsushi could barely sleep his first night with the Armed Detective Agency.
That was a lie. He had slept with ease his first night. It wasn’t a surprise. He had gone from starvation and convincing himself there was no way he would live past the end of the week to a meal and the realization that he was the beast that chased him all his life. It was the second night, his first night without exhaustion gripping onto his form, that he had barely been able to sleep.
The overwhelming comfort of a warm home and a futon had made it difficult for him to stay calm, his skin itching as he felt he had to be on edge, worrying about being discovered as he slept in alleyways or under unlit bridges. The truth of the matter was that he was safe and in a place he was allowed to call home. Eventually, that anxiety had washed away, sleep coming easily as he would throw himself onto his futon and calm as his exhaustion overtook his form.
Months later he found himself on edge again, fear digging its fingers into his chest hard enough to bruise.
Atsushi had been lucky. He couldn’t ignore the trauma he endured during his time at the orphanage. It was impossible, the way the headmaster’s voice haunted his daily life, the way he still struggled to allow his feelings and actions to be his own, the way he still felt like he needed to help others just to earn his place in the world. But he was lucky. Because he had people at his side that, whether they knew it or not, helped him heal. The way Naomi would greet him with a glowing smile in the morning. The way Kunikida would rest a hand on his head, gently ruffling his hair when he noticed too strong of tension in his shoulders as he pored over his work. The way Ranpo could sense when he was having a bad day and his anxiety was peaking, not saying anything as he would walk past his desk and drop some kind of snack or candy beside his laptop. He had people that could notice the shifts in his mentality and would try to silently help.
They couldn’t help when the headmaster died, leaving a gaping hole in his chest that he just couldn’t understand why existed.
Dazai had been there as he struggled with the situation, gently but firmly making him realize that while he had every right to feel confused, be angry, to not forgive the man that made his life a living hell, the man had still been a father, albeit a terrible, abusive one. He had thought he could handle it from there, force himself through his emotions and return to work the next day without an issue.
He couldn’t even get out of bed the next morning.
The thought of having to get changed and walk to the office while his head spun and his chest was so tight he couldn’t breathe made him feel nauseous. Kyouka had tried her best to coax him out of bed, crouching beside him and gently petting his head as he curled into himself. Despite her best efforts, Atsushi hadn’t even rolled off of his side. With a soft sigh, she kissed the top of his head, reminding him of the leftover ochazuke and salmon that sat in the fridge and promising to let Kunikida know he wouldn’t be in for the day, before getting changed and leaving for work.
Despite the reminder and knowing he should eat, Atsushi didn’t move from his position for he wasn’t sure how long. It wasn’t until he heard a click and the door open, simultaneously thankful for and cursing his heightened hearing, that he shifted in his spot, his gaze flicking back and out of the closet. Had it been long enough that Kyouka would already be home? No, the footsteps weren’t light enough. They were-
“Atsushi-kun? It’s Dazai.”
Dazai’s.
His voice was softer than he was used to, lacking the hint of mischief that made him worry that the older man was going to drag him into some kind of scheme to mess with Kunikida. He normally would have found the gentle tone worrying but he couldn’t help the way he found comfort in it.
“Kyouka-chan came in earlier and told us you weren’t coming in. I managed to slip away and come see you. She gave me a key,” Dazai continued, his voice growing louder until he was standing in front of the closet. When his gaze landed on the teen, he couldn’t help the way his chest tightened. “Oh kid,” he mumbled, kneeling beside him.
Atsushi pushed back tears as he felt a gentle but rough hand settle into his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. The softness of his touch and the almost uncharacteristic care in Dazai’s demeanor quickly became overwhelming, the tightness in his chest increasing as the sob building in his throat broke through, his body shaking as the dam seemed to break. Dazai didn’t say anything, instead gently pulling him up from his laying position and out of the closet, wrapping his arms around him as he collapsed into his chest. The room was silent other than Atsushi’s loud sobs, his hands weakly gripping into Dazai’s coat as bandaged arms held him tighter, pulled him closer.
Neither was sure how long it was until Atsushi’s sobs diminished into shaky breaths and hiccups, his head falling against the brunet’s chest as a hand found its way back into his hair.
“I’m sorry. You came to check on me and I didn’t even say anything and got your shirt all wet-“
Dazai let out a soft sigh at the apology, shaking his head. Of course, the first thing that Atsushi would do after a breakdown is apologize.
“Atsushi. Look at me.”
He fell silent at the firmness of Dazai’s voice and the lack of honorifics, his grip on his coat loosening as he slowly looked up at him.
“You don’t need to apologize. I came to check on you. I know that yesterday was difficult and it’s not going to be easy to just bounce back from that,” Dazai gently explained, his hand slipping from Atsushi’s hair to his cheek, a comforting action he had been shown once. “I didn’t come expecting you to be okay.” He lifted his hand to rub away the tears that still lingered on the younger’s cheeks, his gaze softening as he pushed into his palm. “Don’t apologize.”
Atsushi opened his mouth but was quick to shut it, making it clear he was going to give another apology, most likely for the fact he was apologizing in the first place. Instead, he offered a small nod. That was enough for Dazai.
“Good. Now, have you eaten?” When he didn’t receive a response other than Atsushi’s gaze shifting, he let out a short huff. “Alright. We’re getting you food. Come on, Tiger. Can’t have you passing out from hunger on me.” Despite both of them knowing he was more than used to a lack of food, neither mentioned it as Atsushi was gently helped to his feet.
As he was led to the kitchen, the teen couldn’t help the calmness that began to wash over him. He knew that he wasn’t going to heal immediately. It was something he was beginning to realize about the entirety of his healing journey. The beginning was hard and he would always end up taking two steps back. But with people he cared about at his side, with Dazai at his side, he realized it would be okay.