Work Text:
Atsushi knew something was wrong from the moment Kunikida approached him and asked, “Do you know where Dazai is?”
Though the cause for concern wasn’t the words itself—Kunikida asked about Dazai’s whereabouts often enough, considering how addicted the man was to disappearing without a word. What alarmed him was Kunikida’s tone: exhausted, yes, but somber. The cadence of his voice lowering into a bottomless pit, something empty and resigned. Atsushi looked around in hopes of finding a clue as to what was going on, but his coworkers seemed as lost as he felt.
Slowly, Atsushi shook his head. “No, I haven’t.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “Did something happen?”
For a moment, Kunikida seemed to ponder if he should answer or not. Then, he sighed and crossed his arms.
“Do me a favor and call him,” Kunikida said. In a quieter voice, he added, “He might pick up if it’s you.”
Although he opened his mouth to protest, Atsushi decided it wasn’t the time for creating silly arguments. He fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled down to Dazai’s name in his contact list. For no discernible reason, his heart sped up with each dial tone—only to freeze completely when the call connected. Atsushi glanced towards Kunikida, but quickly averted his eyes to the floor.
There was faint static crackling from Dazai’s side, a slight interference from the blowing wind. Atsushi waited a bit, but no other sound surfaced.
“Dazai-san?” Atsushi said.
A deep breath blew into the speaker. Atsushi didn’t have it in him to wince, his anxiety too great to allow for a reaction other than a tense gasp.
“Tell Kunikida-kun I’m okay,” Dazai whispered.
It took Atsushi a moment to fully understand what he said.
“Wh—”
Toot, toot, toot… Atsushi moved the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen, where it showed the meager few seconds the call had lasted.
“So?” Kunikida prompted.
“He asked me to tell you he’s okay…”
It was a marvel in and of itself that Dazai already knew why Atsushi had called, but the chill that seeped into his bones froze his emotions as well. He turned uncertain eyes up at Kunikida, and realized he looked just as defeated as Atsushi felt—maybe even more so.
“Of course he did,” Kunikida grumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, more disheveled than Atsushi had seen him in a while. “Atsushi.”
The authoritative tone made Atsushi square his shoulders on instinct. Maybe this had something to do with a mission, after all. Maybe Atsushi would be sent out as backup for Dazai. He fidgeted under Kunikida’s stare.
“Y-Yes!”
Kunikida jumped a little when Atsushi talked, and he seemed put-off by his response. Bit by bit, Kunikida relaxed his facial muscles, until the scowl melted into something neutral.
“Listen, this isn’t an order,” he said, each word enunciated slowly. “If you have the time, go visit him.”
‘Visit’? If it wasn’t a work-related situation, he supposed the wording made sense. But still, why would Kunikida urge Atsushi to—
“I’m sure you remember the graveyard from last time?”
“Oh,” Atsushi breathed out, thoughts coming to a halt. “Yes, I do.”
“Good.” Kunikida laid a hand atop his head and said, quietly so only the two of them could hear, “I’m counting on you.”
*
This place was the same as Atsushi remembered it, quiet and peaceful, with only the seagulls for company. There was a particular hush that settled around the graveyard that was almost calming—Atsushi wasn’t sure if every cemetery felt the same, or if the atmosphere was exclusive to this place. He wrapped both hands around the can of soda he had brought for Dazai and looked over to the sea. The sunlight shone on the water surface, drawing his eyes to it even as he descended the steps to find the gravestone set apart from the others.
The S. Oda engraved in the stone was the same he remembered from his last and only visit, but that was the only familiar thing here. There was no head of brown hair resting nearby. Atsushi stepped closer and realized the patch of grass near the tombstone was worn down. Atsushi could imagine Dazai sleeping in that spot all too clearly. He blew a sigh, pushed the image away, and joined his palms for a small prayer.
Once he was done, Atsushi blinked his eyes open and looked around again, but the graveyard was unperturbed by anything other than the sound of the ocean. Dazai was still nowhere to be found.
Discomfort grew in his gut, like he was breaching Dazai’s privacy. Like he wasn’t allowed to be here. Atsushi shuffled on his feet and stared at the gravestone as if it might give him the answers he needed.
“I guess you don’t know where Dazai-san is either, huh?” He mused, but felt silly almost immediately as the silence stretched. Atsushi set a nervous hand on the back of his head. “You wouldn’t be able to tell me if you did anyways.”
His words caught up to him a second later, mortification burning bright on his cheeks. Atsushi bowed and squeaked out, “I mean! Sorry…”
Moisture gathered on his palm, and Atsushi finally remembered he was still carrying a can of rapidly cooling soda. He looked from the can to the gravestone, at a loss for what to do.
“Kunikida-san seemed sure Dazai-san would be here,” he mumbled to himself. “I guess I’ll just…”
He crouched and set the can on the grass by the gravestone. Atsushi stared at it for a minute and frowned.
“This somehow feels wrong,” he admitted. He lowered his head in apology. “Next time, I’ll bring you one as well, Oda-san.”
Somewhat satisfied with that arrangement, Atsushi left.
Later in the night, his phone buzzed just as Atsushi had begun to fall asleep. He shot up in surprise, and banged his head right into the closet shelf. Atsushi hissed as he patted the futon in search of his phone. He grabbed the device and blearily peered at the screen.
There were two messages, both from Dazai.
This soda is warm, Atsushi-kun.
I think I swallowed an ant.
It was a miracle Atsushi managed to cover his mouth just in time to muffle his involuntary snort. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, a billion words thrown around inside his head but never coherent enough to form a proper response. The most Atsushi could muster up was I hope you're okay, something too sincere. Something Dazai was bound to reject.
Still, Atsushi couldn’t bring himself to put the phone down, even if the light burned his tired eyes. Part of him waited for—no, wanted Dazai to text him again. In the low light of his phone and with Dazai’s name engraved in his retina, Atsushi fell asleep.
*
At Ranpo's suggestion (who somehow knew of Atsushi's gesture of taking a drink to Dazai), Atsushi carried two bottles of Ramune in his hands. He wasn't too sure about the flavor, so he grabbed the drinks at blind and hoped for the best.
There was no disappointment to be felt when he entered the graveyard to find it empty. In a way, Atsushi expected as much. It would be too lucky to just run into Dazai without any clues of what hours he came by to visit—if he even had a schedule for it at all.
It didn't stop the ache in his chest, however. A sort of emptiness that he realized came from feeling his mentor's absence.
Atsushi sighed as he placed the bottles down and did his prayers. He lowered his hands slowly, and didn't open his eyes immediately. Although the feeling that he was intruding wasn't completely gone, Atsushi felt strangely welcomed here. He looked down at Oda's gravestone.
"I think I understand why Dazai-san comes here so often," he said quietly. "It's always so peaceful, it feels like the rest of the world is paused."
Again, his eyes were attracted to the ocean view. He wondered if Dazai had been the one to pick this place as his friend's resting ground. Something told him that there was a story behind that choice. He swayed slightly in the ocean breeze.
That ache grew, and with it came the realization that as beautiful as the view from the graveyard was, it was still proof of Oda's death. Atsushi clenched his hands behind his back.
"Maybe that's a little disrespectful to both of you. There's no way he would come here just because it's a nice place, right?" He laughed awkwardly. "To be honest, I don't know how Dazai-san feels."
But that was nothing new, really. Sometimes it felt as if the two of them were worlds apart. If Atsushi were to desperately grab for him, keep him rooted to the earth, would Dazai feel warm in his hands? Would he feel real?
"There's no one in my past to miss," Atsushi admitted. He looked down at the ground, and refrained from scratching at his scars. "If I think about it like that, it's a little lonely."
It brought memories of flower bouquets and a man dead by the road. He thought of the sunset burning the horizon, infinite and beautiful; of Dazai by his side, smiling with that soft countenance that was so characteristic to him.
"It's a lot better now, really. I don't know what I'd do if I lost someone from the Agency." And that was why he would never, could never stop reaching for them. "Caring about someone is a little terrifying, isn't it?"
"You must've been really important to Dazai-san," he mused, voice distant.
What an obvious realization, but Atsushi didn't really understand the depth of Dazai's loss until now. Only after he had seen Kunikida's brace the desk for support in pure relief once Atsushi told him Dazai had texted him. Only after he was made to face the gaping hole that was left in his life when Dazai stepped out of it.
"I miss having him around, but I get why he's been absent." Atsushi took a deep breath and bowed his head. "Could you take care of him for now? Thank you, Oda-san."
Atsushi squared his shoulders and recomposed himself, pushing away the tears he hadn't noticed had sprang to his eyes.
"Sorry to disturb your rest again," Atsushi said as he waved. "I'll be back, if that's okay."
The text came not much later after he left. Atsushi was chewing on his dinner when his phone pinged with a new notification.
How many bottles of warm soda do you think I could possibly drink?
He stared at the message in hesitation. Kyouka met his eyes from across the table, her head tilted. Atsushi shook his head to reassure her and typed back a quick response.
The other bottle is for Oda-san.
His phone went quiet after that. Although Atsushi kept the device glued to his hands, no new messages appeared.
Instead, he heard his ringtone in the middle of his sleep. Too tired to open his eyes, Atsushi accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear. Not a single word was spoken, but he heard the wind and knew exactly who it was. Atsushi fell back into unconsciousness to the sound of static and ocean waves.
In the morning, he woke up to a single message:
Bring snacks instead.
*
With the Agency depending on him to keep in contact with Dazai, it was easy for Atsushi to make a habit out of visiting the graveyard once a day. If he stepped out in the middle of work, no one questioned it—though it didn’t stop the Agency members, especially the seniors, from anxiously watching him depart. Atsushi was grateful for the routine of looking for something for Dazai (and Oda), as the thoughts of what was safe to leave in the open pushed away the lingering anxiety as the days passed by without a sign of Dazai’s return.
Today, however, instead of stopping by the store, Atsushi made a trip to his dorm room instead. After retrieving what he needed, he made the walk to the graveyard, its path now so familiar that Atsushi didn’t need to think where he was going.
Once he made it to his destination, Atsushi lowered himself onto a crouch, careful not to sprain his ankle. As he became stable in his new position, he looked over to the gravestone. There were no signs of food anywhere. Atsushi was relieved that at least Dazai was being careful not to leave a mess behind.
"I bet Dazai-san has been eating everything I bring to you," he accused lightly. "Even though it's supposed to be an offering. He's gonna end up getting cursed at this rate."
Then again, from the little Atsushi knew of Oda, he didn't sound like the kind of person to come back as a vengeful spirit. Much less over something like Dazai eating his offerings.
"Maybe you're too nice to do that, Oda-san…"
"You should call him Odasaku."
Atsushi had to brace himself with a hand on the ground as he whipped his head too fast and almost lost his balance. He looked at Dazai, a mixture of surprise and relief making his heart pound. In his bewilderment, he forgot to voice a response. Dazai tilted his head, taking his silence as confusion.
"That's what his friends called him," Dazai explained.
"Oh, I— Alright." Although he had been visiting Oda...saku's gravestone on the regular, being called a friend suddenly tied his throat in knots. At a loss, Atsushi added, "Thank you."
The oddness of the situation wasn't lost on Dazai. He chuckled, eyes trained on Atsushi.
"You're thanking me?" He teased.
Despite his words and his smile, the amusement was distant; like Dazai wasn't quite there to feel that emotion. Not only that, but as soon as he stopped talking, his face fell. His eyelids were lowered into slits, and Dazai took a long moment to speak up again.
"What do you have there?" He said and pointed at Atsushi's lap.
Atsushi looked down, reminded of the coat he had brought with him this time around. It was a hand-me-down from Tanizaki, though practically brand new. Atsushi ran a hand on the black fabric before offering it to Dazai.
"It's a thicker jacket," Atsushi explained. "It's been getting colder lately, so you might catch a cold."
Dazai stared at the jacket for a second too long. A sardonic smirk appeared on his face, though he was quick to school his expression back into neutrality.
"Give it here," Dazai murmured as he took the jacket and draped it over his shoulders. He didn't bother pulling his arms through the sleeves, and the jacket billowed behind him like a cape. Dazai smiled, secretive and impossible to decipher. "Does it suit me?"
Atsushi couldn't help but feel like he was missing some crucial context. The appearance of the jacket mattered very little to him, as far as he knew that it was warm and safely wrapped around Dazai.
"I don't know, it's just a jacket," he said slowly. "I guess so?"
Dazai held the jacket closed with a hand and nodded absentmindedly. "I see."
His shoulders were tensed up, Atsushi noticed; the lingering discomfort wasn't just his imagination. It reminded Atsushi that it wasn’t Dazai’s intention to meet him here. He never got permission to come—even if Dazai's texts had deluded him to believe he received an invitation. For all Atsushi knew, Dazai could be deliberately avoiding crossing paths with him.
"Do you want me to go?" Atsushi wrung the words out of his throat.
"No," Dazai replied without missing a beat. Ever so slightly, he shifted so they were closer to each other. His leg bumped against Atsushi’s shoulder. "Just give me a moment."
It was clear that the proximity was meant to comfort himself, but Atsushi felt something uncoil from below his diaphragm. He breathed out, lungs no longer constricted, but gaze never straying away from Dazai’s face.
Although it hurt him to see the vacant stare Dazai had, Atsushi couldn’t find the words to reassure him. Perhaps it was for the best to let Dazai have his silence, even if only for a moment. Atsushi rested his head against his forearms, and in the process pressed himself to Dazai.
The touch was unintentional, but it snapped Dazai out of his daze. His eyes strayed from the gravestone to Atsushi. In the shadow, his irises turned into all-consuming black holes.
"When we get out of here, could you help me with my bandages?" Dazai asked, his voice flat but heavy. From below, Atsushi could see clearly when Dazai’s nails dug painfully into the flesh of his palm. "I'd rather not look at my arms."
"Dazai-san," Atsushi called.
Dazai shifted a little to look at him. His eyes widened a little when he saw Atsushi hold up a hand to him.
"Whatever you need, I'll do it," Atsushi promised.
Dazai blinked, but he was quick to recover. He laughed, and though the stretch of his lips was a little painful, it was genuine. His touch was a little cold when their hands met, but Atsushi felt his pulse briefly when he squeezed a bit too hard in an attempt to warm up his palm.
Dazai was right here, beautiful and fragile in the way his fingers trembled in Atsushi's grasp.
"Thank you for looking out for me," Dazai whispered.
Ah, I guess that job is mine after all. Atsushi smiled to himself. I’ll do my best, Odasaku-san.