nightmares

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Atsushi jolts awake gasping for air and he's all pain in the chest and uncooperative lungs and nails that scratch his arms so hard he fears they've become claws during his sleep. He looks around, winces at the darkness clinging to his limbs and scrambles to grab his phone and light up the screen.

Only when the tremulous light reaches the corners of the room, making it clear that there is nobody that shouldn't be there, no actual person shouting the words he carries engraved in his heart, Atsushi is able to breathe in without feeling the air is poison for his lungs; the phone falls from his hand as he hugs his legs and rests his head on his knees, silent sobs shaking his entire form as his pulse slows down.

When it's not Rashomon piercing his body, it's any of the many bad memories the orphanage gave him. Lately they seem to merge to knock the air out of Atsushi's lungs.

And the worst part is he should be used to this. He should have accepted the nightmares long ago, should have learnt to stop letting them affect him this way. They have been here for so long that even as he dreams Atsushi can predict what will happen.

But knowing doesn't make his dreams less terrifying.

Atsushi only notices Kyouka's presence next to him when her little hand lands cautiously on his shoulder. He swallows down, tries to be silent, because there are many things Kyouka already worries about to be another nuisance.

"I have them too," she whispers, though.

Atsushi bites on his lower lip, but he can't supress a whimper. "It's alright. I'm just less tired than usual." Since he started working at the Agency Atsushi has come to realise that usually the more he exhausts himself, the better he sleeps. Empty dreams are better than nightmares. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

Kyouka's fingers dig into his shoulder when she grabs it tighter. "I wasn't sleeping." Atsushi wishes the knowledge didn't make him feel a bit better, but it does. "I don't want to go back to sleep now."

Atsushi swallows the lump in his throat.

"We could make some tea, then," he weakly suggests.

Kyouka's hand quickly vanishes, leaving Atsushi alone with almost silent steps. The protest gets stuck in his throat when he realises it's Kyouka's subtle way of letting him some space so he can get a hold on himself; Atsushi extends his legs and wipes at his eyes to get rid of the remnants of tears.

The nightmares won't stop; he knows that much. But sometimes he doesn't have to deal with them alone.