Work Text:
In the end, it’s very anti-climactic.
Chuuya drops him off Monday morning around the corner from the dorms at a little past five in the morning, and he walks the short distance to the dorm he shares with Kyouka.
The girl is, unsurprisingly, still asleep, so Atsushi tip toes around to gather his work clothes before changing in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and applying deodorant.
Chuuya had been kind enough to let him use his shower and any of his toiletries that Atsushi needed while he stayed at the other’s apartment over the weekend, but Atsushi is glad to have his familiarity back.
Even Chuuya’s toothpaste had tasted expensive.
He had showered the previous night, as was his habit. It was what was done in the orphanage – baths at night so you were ready to get straight to work after breakfast in the morning. Upon learning people showered in the morning rather than night by choice, Atsushi had been taken aback.
After preparing for the day, Atsushi slips back out of the dorm and wanders for a bit, buying himself a small crêpe for breakfast to pass the time until his usual arrival at work at seven thirty sharp.
He was a creature of habit, born out of getting the schedule of the orphanage beaten into him. He still goes to bed at nine at night, and wakes at five in the morning. He still deep cleans the bathroom on Saturdays and the kitchen on Sundays.
His schedule wasn’t exactly the same, considering he doesn’t live in the orphanage and has a job now, but he has morphed his schedule from the orphanage into something that works with his job and he thinks he has things down pretty well.
He sits on a bench in a park near where he bought his crêpe and slowly makes his way through his breakfast – usually he would devour such a small crêpe in a few bites, but today his stomach is churning with anxiety and he can’t bring himself to do more than nibble.
Seven o’clock comes and he disposes of the last of his crêpe – hating the fact he’s wasting food but unable to stomach any more – and makes his way to the building where he works. He takes the stairs rather than the elevator and reaches the door to the Agency as the clock hits seven thirty.
Atsushi walks through the door like a prisoner walking down death row and Kunikida, who always arrives at seven, immediately zeroes in on him.
Before he can start berating Atsushi about his failed mission on Friday and radio silence over the weekend, the younger locks eyes with Ranpo. The man isn’t usually there so early, but his green eyes are wide open and inspecting as he cuts off any words from Kunikida by simply saying, “President’s in his office.”
Atsushi nods and turns to go to the President’s office, still feeling like a man walking to the injection room, leaving a spluttering Kunikida behind.
Thankfully, no one else ever shows up before at least eight o’clock.
Straightening his tie anxiously, Atsushi makes his way to the President’s office, and is surprised to see the door open.
“Fukuzawa-sama?” Atsushi calls quietly, knocking lightly on the doorframe as he peeks into the room.
Fukuzawa sits behind his desk, and offers Atsushi a welcoming smile when he sees the young man.
“Ranpo tells me there’s something you need to speak to me about,” Fukuzawa says, waving Atsushi into the room. He offers a chair, but doesn’t push when Atsushi opts to stand, “I can’t say I know what it is, exactly, but I’m guessing it has something to do with why you abandoned your mission on Friday then disappeared all weekend.”
“I- yes,” Atsushi admits quietly, “Something… unexpected happened during the mission. After it was over, I wasn’t in the state of mind to be able to handle… well, anything, really.”
“What happened during the mission?” Fukuzawa asks easily, eyes still calm and kind.
“There was an unexpected Ability user,” Atsushi informs him, “I’m not entirely sure what the Ability was, but it was… awful. It drained all my will to live. The user would have killed me.”
“Why didn’t they?” Fukuzawa asks, not accusing, simply curious, but Atsushi flinches anyway.
“I killed them,” Atsushi admits quietly, and Fukuzawa raises his eyebrows, “Or the tiger did, really. I lost control and… and then next thing I knew there was a body in front of me, not moving.”
“Ah, so that’s what I felt,” Fukuzawa says contemplatively, “The tiger broke free of my Ability’s hold in order to protect you.”
“Fukuzawa-sama?” Atsushi’s voice is a whisper, and the President looks at him encouragingly, “Are you going to turn me in?”
“For what?” Fukuzawa asks, a small smile playing on his lips, “You just told me a story. There’s no body that was found. No Ability users reported missing. Some cameras in part of the city lost Friday’s midday footage. I know of no crime, just a tale spun by my subordinate.”
“Thank you,” Atsushi bows, finally able to breathe and he doesn’t know who he’s thanking more – the President or Chuuya, whose crew dealt with the clean up and cameras.
“Is there anything else you need?” Fukuzawa asks kindly, “You are not required to stay in the office today, or do any work. You’re welcome to, of course, but I do encourage you to rest.”
“I’ll stay,” Atsushi blurts out a little too quickly, “I… don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”
Fukuzawa nods, and that’s it.
Anti-climactic.
When Atsushi steps back into the main office, everyone but Dazai has arrived. The air is thick and a glance at Ranpo makes him acutely aware that they all know.
Atsushi feels his heartrate spike – he wants to run, he wants to get out of this place, he wants to escape their judgement, their disappointment, their—
Tanizaki’s voice cuts through his panicked thoughts.
“You’re one of us, Atsushi,” The other boy says, voice firm, and for a brief moment, Atsushi wonders if that’s his way of saying he knows Atsushi spent the last three nights in a Port Mafia Executive’s bed, but then Tanizaki continues, “There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you. We’re here for you, through anything.”
“Thank you,” Atsushi whispers hoarsely, and Tanizaki nods at him with a smile before going off to do… something.
The rest of the day goes something like this – no one else says anything or mentions what happened beyond Tanizaki’s words.
But they’re all especially kind to him that day.
Kunikida calls him ‘kid’ more than ‘brat’ and keeps his voice at a more neutral level than usual, even when scolding Dazai – when the other man eventually decides to saunter in, that is, never one to arrive at a reasonable time.
Yosano brings him a purple tie that she says matches his eyes, citing his need for a more diverse wardrobe. She doesn’t say anything about what happened, but she does quietly stare him down for a minute before softly telling him that her door is always open if he wants to talk.
Ranpo, surprisingly, drops a lollipop on Atsushi’s desk on his way out to a case. Picking it up, Atsushi sees that it’s the older man’s least favourite flavour, but he unwraps it and pops it in his mouth with a smile, anyway. It’s the thought that counts.
Kenji acts the same as always, happy and taking care of his plants, but when he returns from his lunch break, he plops a beef bowl on Atsushi’s desk. He doesn’t say anything, and when Atsushi looks up at him in surprise, he simply grins and skips off.
Kyouka and Dazai are the hard ones.
Kyouka ambushes him in the stairwell on his way to the café for his break.
Before he can say anything to her, to apologize or beg for forgiveness – he isn’t sure yet – she’s latched onto him like a koala.
“You didn’t have to go,” Kyouka whispers into his chest, and Atsushi’s heart breaks as he realizes he abandoned the teen alone in their shared dorm for three nights without a word. She must have been worried, with no idea what happened to him, even though she never texted or called.
“I’m sorry,” Atsushi tells her honestly, “I panicked. And I didn’t want you to think differently of me.”
“I’ve killed 35 people,” Kyouka says, voice quiet, pained, “I didn’t have a choice – not when the Port Mafia controlled Demon Snow. But you saved me anyway. You didn’t have a choice in what happened on Friday, either. I hope, wherever you were, you were with someone as kind as yourself.”
Atsushi pauses for a moment, listens carefully with tiger-like senses for anyone nearby, then makes a choice.
“I was with Chuuya-san,” Atsushi tells her quietly, and she blinks up at him with wide eyes, “He helped me clean up and get myself back together. He took care of me over the weekend.”
“…Chuuya is a kind person,” Kyouka says, voice just as quiet as Atsushi’s, “I’m glad he could help you.”
“He mentioned you,” Atsushi can’t stop from blurting out, still keeping his voice down, “He misses you.”
“If you see him again, tell him I’m happy,” Kyouka says slowly, “But that I miss him, too. He was always good to me.”
“I’ll tell him,” Atsushi promises, and Kyouka smiles at him.
There’s no distrust in her eyes, no disgust, no disappointment. She doesn’t blame him. She’s just glad he’s alright.
“Would you buy me a hot chocolate?” Kyouka asks, voice returning to normal volume as she finally lets go of her hold on him.
Atsushi feels lighter knowing everything is alright with Kyouka, that she still cares for him.
The only one left was Dazai.
The office was almost empty, everyone out on jobs or breaks except Atsushi, Dazai, and Ranpo.
The latter seemed to be dozing at his desk, sweets wrappers everywhere as always.
Atsushi knows he will have to be the one to breach the subject, as loathe as he is to do so.
He’s afraid of what his mentor will think of him – his mentor who left the Port Mafia and killing behind.
Dazai stretches at his desk and then, despite only being at work for four hours – yet somehow already having known the news when he arrived – says, “Well, I think that’s it for the day for me.”
The man then gets to his feet, and begins to walk towards the door, but Atsushi shoots up and cuts him off before he can get there.
“Dazai-san,” Atsushi speaks, “Please say something. Do something. Anything… I know you’re disappointed, please just let it out.”
“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai says, looking surprised, “I’m not disappointed. I know what happened wasn’t your choice – and even if it was, I’m glad it was your life spared over theirs.”
Atsushi blinks at Dazai, suddenly feeling his eyes well up.
“Are you crying?” Dazai asks, sounding panicked, but not out of concern, “Why are you crying? I don’t do crying.”
Atsushi sniffles quietly, eyes and cheeks wet with a trickle of tears.
“I’m just… really grateful I have you all,” Atsushi tells the older man quietly, “That you all support me.”
There’s silence for a moment as Dazai stares at Atsushi, and then—
“I’m going to allow you one hug,” Dazai tells Atsushi, emphasizing his point by holding up one finger, “Make it count.”
Atsushi practically launches himself at his mentor, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly, his face pressed into his jacket.
He doesn’t expect Dazai to do anything in return – Dazai isn’t a hugger and Atsushi knows that.
Which is why he’s surprised when arms snake around him, their hold protective, making Atsushi feel safe.
It makes Atsushi realize Dazai really does worry about him and want to protect him.
It only lasts a few seconds before Dazai is shoving him away – gently, much more gently than he usually would have done if he wanted more personal space.
“Okay, enough now,” Dazai says breezily, already on the move to exit the Agency.
“Thank you,” Atsushi tells the other man quietly.
Dazai doesn’t say anything to acknowledge Atsushi’s words, but his steps stutter for half a second, and Atsushi knows he heard him.
That just leaves Atsushi and Ranpo in the office – and Fukuzawa, but he’s still holed up in his own office.
Ranpo looks slightly intrigued but overall uninterested in what just transpired with Dazai – intrigued, likely, simply because Dazai doesn’t do hugs, and uninterested because the older man probably saw it coming anyway.
The others will be returning from their respective missions, paperwork runs, and breaks soon, though, so Atsushi wipes the wetness from his face and gets back to work.
Dazai’s paperwork won’t do itself, after all.