Chapter Text
Real life is not a fairytale. Nobody knows that quite as well as Atsushi does - nobody but those unfortunate to have suffered a life even worse than his. When you've been beaten within an inch of your life, black and blue and bloodied, that glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel is snatched away, leaving only darkness and the knowledge that you are well and truly alone.
The ADA had brought that glimmer back. They had taken him in, protected him, loved him as their own. The first people to care. They're the closest thing he has to a family. And now some members of the Port Mafia have joined that list. Nakahara, Kouyou, Tachihara, Gin. Once-and-future enemies. But, now that he's talked to them, laughed with them, fought with them, he likes to think of them as friends. Another glimmer.
The world is more peaceful now. There's a lull in the endless conflict; for a couple weeks now, Atsushi has been able to properly relax. Everyone seems happier. Lighter. Yosano laughs more. Kenji sings more. Ranpo eats more. The shadows in Kyouka's and Dazai's eyes have lessened ever so slightly, and Kunikida's yelling has gotten less panicked. Naomi and Tanizaki are even more affectionate, which is debatably not quite as good - but, nonetheless, the peace seems to be doing his friends a world of good.
And yet, for some cruel reason, Atsushi is drowning. Drowning in memories, in misery, in fatigue. He needs help - desperately - keeps reaching out his hands for salvation - but each lighter step his friends take is a crushing weight. Wrong, it whispers. There's something wrong with you. You're defective.
He can't breathe.
It all piles up. Under the cheerful grins and hummed melodies it builds and builds and builds. Until, one day, the weight is so heavy that Atsushi finds he simply does not have the willpower to crawl out of bed. His lungs are empty and his eyes are heavy and he's so tired.
Somewhere through the haze of nothing-and-everything he vaguely registers a faint knocking noise, urgent and insistent. Opening his eyes is a herculean task, but for the sake of life he manages - barely. The world is suddenly too real, too there, despite the darkness cloaking everything. He cannot move.
The kettle is whistling in the kitchen, shrill and piercing. He can hear the bustling of the city outside, the whirring of the fan, the barking of a distant dog. And, of course, the gentle knocking on the door.
"Atsushi-kun?" comes Kyouka's voice, soft and sweet. "Are you awake?"
A tear slips down his cheek. The world exists too loud, too bright, too much - and here he is, the inhuman stain, the wicked beast, casting a shadow on such a pure land. He's too selfish. Too scared. He loves life so much. But the glimmer is gone. The tunnel is dark again, and it will remain dark until the end of time. The darkness is crushing him, swirling around him, inky black coils tightening and tightening and-
And suddenly he's sobbing, big wet gulps, and the knocking stops. Hesitates. "Atsushi-kun?" it asks again. Kyouka.
He needs her, needs her like he needs air, but how can he taint her like that? How can he so much as brush against her without shattering the already shattered girl into pieces? How can he live with himself when she's near?
"I'm coming in," she says. It's everything he wants and doesn't want, but all he can do is cry harder. The closet door slides open.
"May I..." She trails off, but Atsushi is already nodding, trying to reach out towards her with frozen arms.
She climbs into the closet with him, holding him like he's made of porcelain. His limbs thaw and melt, and he wraps himself around her tight, sobbing into her shoulder. There he goes, ruining her with his existence, but he can't bear to let go. She is warm, and she is safety. A hand runs through his hair. He cries into her shoulder for what feels like forever, undoubtedly damaging the fabric, but she stays. She stays.
Kyouka is the first person to stay.
After an eternity, the tears begin to dry out. And then - finally - he can breathe. (He's unsure whether that's because he's calmer now or because he doesn't have any water left in him to cry, but if there's one thing he learns from his childhood it was to never take anything for granted. He can breathe. That's enough.)
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, still calmly stroking his hair. He huffs a wet laugh against her neck, squeezing her even tighter.
"Neither of us are very good at emotional conversations," he reminds her.
"We can still try," she says. "If you want to."
He smiles softly, pulling back to look at her properly despite the darkness. "No, I'm okay." At her raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "I mean - I'm okay not having the conversation - I don't need-"
"Okay," she says simply. The hand threading through his hair retreats. "Do you insist on going to work or will you let me spoil you for a day?"
"There's lots of people to save."
"I think Dazai-san can handle doing his own work for once."
Atsushi grins weakly. It's hard, but it feels good. "I think Kunikida-san might collapse from shock."
"It'll build character," she says solemnly, but her eyes are glittering with mischief. "So, are you staying home today?"
He hesitates but nods in agreement, fingers twisting whirlpools into his blankets. Kyouka smiles, satisfied, and climbs out of the closet.
"I'll be in the kitchen," she says. "If you want - or need - anything, I'll be more than happy to help. I just need you to let me know. Try sleeping?"
Despite the nagging thought that she's lying, pitying him, laughing at the broken boy with tears staining his cheeks and snot smeared under his nose, he nods again. He is so very tired. Maybe sleep will help smooth over his cracks. (It won't, but he has to believe in something.)
"Sweet dreams," Kyouka says softly and closes the closet door. The weight on his shoulders feels lessened, somehow - still there, still crushing him beneath the rubble, but lighter. He closes his eyes, wipes his nose with the back of his hand, and lets himself be sucked into oblivion.
A day later, Atsushi is back in his usual position at work. He's still feeling heavy, crushed, broken, but he can function, and too many people are dying to do nothing. If he can walk he can fight, and if he can fight he can work.
As soon as he got back to his desk, he (metaphorically) threw himself into the leaning pile of his and Dazai's paperwork. (There was less than usual. Maybe Dazai had decided to be merciful.) And now, halfway through the stack, Atsushi is all too aware of Ranpo's eyes boring into him from across the office. His detective eyes.
"Is your headache bothering you much, Atsushi-kun?" Ranpo asks mildly.
Ah. Yes. Kyouka's excuse for the both of them missing work. Apparently, Atsushi had gotten blackout drunk early in the morning - and then, for some reason, again at noght. Maybe he should have, despite being too young to buy alcohol. It would have made him a whole lot less pathetic.
He makes sure to grimace as if Kunikida was lecturing him in the correct way to format reports. "Yeah," he lies.
"I'm kinda impressed," Yosano says as she carries boxes past his desk. "What did you even drink, anyway?"
Atsushi has only had alcohol once before and, understandably, panics. "Er - tequila."
She whistles lowly and continues walking. Ranpo is still staring at him with slivers of emerald.
"It's so weird to think about Atsushi-kun drinking alcohol," Tanizaki says, grinning.
"I think it's wonderful that you're following your passions, Atsushi-kun!" Kenji exclaims.
"It's not really my passion-"
"Well, I think it's irresponsible!" Kunikida huffs, typing away at lightning speed. "We're detectives. We need to follow the law or we will be disrespecting the agency!"
"I love how that's your only reason," Yosano calls from the storage room.
"Why'd you get so drunk, though, man?" Tanizaki abandons his paperwork to lean forwards and inspect him. "You seem like the kind of guy who'd never drink alcohol.
Atsushi panics, swallows, and copies something he remembers Dazai saying to him once: "You're not at a high enough level of friendship to unlock my Tragic Backstory."
Tanizaki blinks - and then bursts into laughter, a smile lighting up his face. "Who taught you that, Atsushi-kun?"
"Dazai-kun, obviously," Kunikida growls. "Where is that bandage-wasting machine, anyway?"
"He's at the Port Mafia," Ranpo says absently, still eyeing Atsushi but, for some reason, not exposing him. "He's trying to manipulate Mr Fancy Hat into going out with him."
"Oh, that's lovely of him," Kenji says.
"I am going to strangle him!" Kunikida yells.
"Ohoho," Tanizaki crows. "I didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Kunikida-san!"
Kyouka, who has been silent the whole conversation, rests a hand on Atsushi's shoulder. "We need to work on your lying," she whispers, barely audible underneath Kunikida's embarrassed spluttering.
He sighs and tips his head so it's leaning on her arm. "I know."
Ranpo finally takes his eyes off of him, cramming his hand into a jar and tossing a lollipop to him. Atsushi catches it - and this time it's him staring, because the only person Ranpo ever shares his candy with is Poe.
"Thank you," he mouths sincerely.
Ranpo merely shakes his head. "Don't doubt yourself," he mouths back, before hopping to his feet to join the rest of the Agency in heckling Kunikida.