Hey guys, I'm sorry I forgot about this for so long. To be honest I update my ao3 file more often (same story and name) just cause I'm on that site more, but enjoy the two chapter!
"I'm so sorry!" The man nearly shouts. Atsushi flinches back. Naomi stays practically in her brothers lap and nods empathetically.
"I didn't want to do it but they said I had to and-"
"There's no need to apologize Tanizaki-san. You did exactly as you were told and finished the job". Kunikida-san says as he walks up to the booth.
"It was still pretty terrible of me". Tanizaki-san muttered.
And Atsushi wants to be angry with him, but Tanizaki-san had really apologized and he'd been kind, and Atsushi, he remembered what it was like to be under someone and to do things he didn't want to.
"Neh, Kunikida you're being too serious. If it drove Atsushi to quit maybe he should apologize", Dazai-san calls as he walks in to the corner cafe, voice heedlessly loud and drawing a few stares. He smells like iron, and the hot tang of gunpowder.
Kunikida-san stiffens and purses his lips, Atsushi gets the sense he's missing something but not really what. There's something sharp in the curl of Dazai-san's smile and only his three coworkers seem to understand just what. He shifts slightly, ducking his head and he doesn't see Dazai glance over before nudging Kunikida.
"Kid", He says.
Atsushi looks up through his eyelashes.
"I'm not going to ask you again and you won't get another chance. Join the agency."
Dazai-San raises an eyebrow at Kunikida-San.
"How about this" Dazai-san says.
"We have paid for your apartment for the month, if you had joined the agency the money to keep it would have been taken from your paycheck automatically, since you haven't you have till the end of the month to either find a new job or we convince you to stay on with us."
Atsushi almost wants to snort, it hadn't escaped his notice that Dazai-san carefully hadn't mentioned his desire to leave the city, or even framed it as an option.
"If you want I'll even help you manage the tiger."
That… the tiger roared to life in the back of his mind. No, it growls, and Atsushi's vision is narrowed to the painting to the left of Dazai-san's head. His hearing going hazy as he tries desperately to keep his trembling under control. Ok, he silently whispers. Pain shivers along his nerves as He retreats.
"-ushi-kun, Atsushi-kun." Dazai-san calls.
Atsushi looks up to three concerned faces. He tucks his trembling hands away and avoids their gaze.
"I would like some time, to- to think it over," he pauses, "please," he whispers.
"Of course." Dazai-san immediately agrees. "I'll walk you to your apartment."
Atsushi wonders if this is just another way of assuring he doesn't escape but nods anyway.
. . . . .
That night Atsushi dreams of bombs.
He wakes up with a scream trapped between his teeth and quietly, so quietly ( like always, because he remembers that girl, the one with ears like a fucking birds and an eyesight to match who could always hear them, no matter how quiet they were, who they could sometimes hide from and run from but could never outrun) because the bombs were still falling behind his eyes, ringing in his head as they hurtled towards-
He reaches the bathroom doorway on his knees and crawls inside to hang his head over the edge of the tub and heave. He can't find the coordination to take off his clothes so he doesn't bother. Tripping into the shower as Kazimir laughs in his ear he slaps the overhead on and watches the water wash the bile down the drain.
Panting, he curls in on himself, clenching his hair between his fingers and pressing his fists against the sides of his head, his forehead against the porcelain bottom of the tub. He's shaking, flying apart and he's certain he can hear screams over the sheets of water. Layered over his vision Natasha croons lullabies to a freshly legless little girl.
The Tiger rises in his head and his hearing sharpens until every drop of water feels like a drumbeat and every breath a gale, every rasp of his clothes a shriek. The noise gathers in his head until he can't think of anything else and his ears ring painfully and the bile pooling in his throat is only from the pain.
He doesn't know how long he stays there, he thinks he looked at a clock but he can't remember the numbers. The sky is still dark when he stumbles and he can't find Natasha or Kazimir anywhere, his heart palpitates painfully in his chest with emotions he can't name or know and a distance springs up between him and the world.
He watches his hand reach towards his phone, press a half remembered sequence.
He's calling Dazai.
"Hello?"
Atsushi holds his breath, the world rushing back in and suddenly aware of what a mistake this is. He doesn't even know what he wanted from this, thinks he might be able to explain if only he could articulate the words.
"...Atsushi-san?"
There is some nameless feeling inside him, pulsing tight in his gut and hot in his throat. He thinks it's fear.
"... I- I'm sorry."
Those are the only words he knows to say.
There is a soft exhale over the phone. Regret? Irritation? Anger? He can't know what the older man is feeling unless he's in front of him, but the thought of seeing Dazai-san like this, this vulnerable, this scared, this utterly fucked up, threatens to make him sick again.
"About what, Atsushi?" Dazai-san says.
"I don't want to do this, let me go." The words are a breathless rush.
There is a crackle over the line as the older man moves. A long moment where the only sound is soft footsteps, Atsushi briefly entertains the image of the man picking up a belt before the delicate chink of china banishes it.
"Is running really something you can afford to do?" Dazai-san finally responds.
That nameless something flares brighter, stronger. He looks at his trembling fingers and thinks, oh, not fear, anger
"I saved your life".
For all his anger it is a plee, a last shot at making him leave it alone, from pushing too hard. Even as he says it he know it won't matter, that it never mattered to the people who want something and would matter even less to someone who threw it away in the first place. There is a soft chuckle and he knows Dazai recognizes this, he wonders how many people have tried to save and use it against him. It makes him feel guilty but he won't back down, not in this.
"What do you want from me?" Atsushi asks.
"It's less what I want from you then what I want from myself" Dazai says.
"...What?"
There is more soft laughter over the phone and Atsushi's fingers unclench around the casing, he thinks he could get used to the gentle sound. Could come to not except some kind of pain to follow.
"A long time ago someone made me promise to be good, this is me, trying."
Atsushi feels the hot curl of anger quiet inside him, and something that has the potential to be a deep sadness take its place.
"You're trying to manipulate me" he says, needing something lighter than the weight of this conversation.
"I am, just a little. Was I not being obvious enough?"
Atsushi huffs, at least the man was honest. It counted for something, it had to count for something.
There is a knock on the door and he startles, nearly dropping the phone. Pulling it back to his ear he whispers for Dazai-san to hold on as he peers through the peephole only to find Dazai-san in front of his door. The man is holding a gently steaming cup of tea, chamomile from the scent drifting through the bottom of the door, and a faded paper back that he waves back and forth in silent greeting. Atsushi scrambles to unlock and open the door and Dazai-san breezes through, pressing the tea into his hands. The moonlight glows against the man's skin, turns black coffee eyes a warm brown as he settles into one of the two armchairs beside the living room windows. Unsure and confused about what to do he sits with his back against the wall, and, wrapping his hands around the cup, watches the passage of the night through the movement of moonlight on his floor. Occasionally flicking glances up at the odd, impossible man reading in his home.