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Pushed to a corner, one ankle shackled in chains as his head was tucked between his knees, trying to muffle his painful sobs. What the hell did he do to deserve such a treacherous feat? He was a child, he didn't want advice or answers, he wanted to be comforted and held. That's all a child needs from their parental figure, but what if you have none? What if all your life all you've known was pain and suffering?
The Director dipped the metal in fire and pressed it against Atsushi's shackled leg, earning another pitiful scream.
"Stand up," the director demanded and Atsushi did as he was told. He held onto the wall to steady himself, feeling as though he was going to faint from all the pain. His legs trembling as he limped his way towards the director.
The director slapped him, leaving a bright red handprint across his face.
"You can't even stand up right," he said, as he slashed Atsushi's chains and dragged him by his hair to the boiler room. In there were a bunch of barrels filled with water, Atsushi was too used to this room; its moist scent and air so heavy that it was hard to breathe.
Atsushi was thrown in the room, the director following close behind with his hands behind his back, not an ounce of sympathy was visible on his face.
He grabbed Atsushi by the hair again and directed him towards one of the barrels.
"No, no, no, no, no. Please, no, no, NO—" the boys pleas were cut off by his head getting submerged in the barrel of water. His legs kicked and his arms held a firm grip against the rotting wood, like the dozens of times before this one, he stood no chance.
"Who the hell do you think you are, boy? You are nothing more than a waste of space, a burden to this orphanage. No one would care if you died in a ditch somewhere. Hell, no God or deity would take you in the afterlife. You are nothing, you are worth less than a sack of beans or an empty glass of rotten milk. You are filth. You're scum, you will never amount to anything."
All of this sounded muffled to the drowning boy, but, he could perfectly decipher what the director was saying. He was so used to his voice, his yelling, his screaming, all of it. Through the various and substantial amount of torture the Director had put him through, his voice would always linger in the back of his head. It was permanent, a symphony, no—an orchestra of echos playing on repeat.
Atsushi immediately sat up upon awakening, hyperventilating and grabbing at his shirt like it was burning him. His other hand grabbed at his hair and held a tight grip on it, pulling on it to feel something—some sort of self inflicted pain that would help him realize that he wasn't at the orphanage. His breathing was so fast that it woke up the mafioso sleeping next to him.
Akutagawa upon hearing Atsushi's panicky and unsteady breaths, sat up immediately, attempting to talk to the white haired boy.
"Atsushi, can you hear me?" The hyperventilating boy looked at him in response, his eyes shivering in horror; fear.
"Okay, good, can I touch you?" The mafioso asked. He wouldn't touch his boyfriend without his permission after he had a nightmare or a flashbacks of sorts, since he had his own issues similar to Atsushi's and prefers to be asked before being touched.
The Diablo placed a hand on Atsushi's back, rubbing gentle circles in the middle of it; hoping to calm down and coax the younger into steadying his breathing.
"Alright, Jinko," he inhaled and exhaled, "in... one, two, three, four, hold, one, two three four, and out, one two, three, four..." Atsushi followed Akutagawa's lead and that steadied his breathing, but his panic remained.
Atsushi turned himself to face Akutagawa, the older pulled him close and cradled him against his chest.
Akutagawa traced his fingers along Atsushi's spine, giving him something to focus on besides his own panic. The two sat there for a long while, at least, until Atsushi was calm enough to compose himself.
After a while of long, uneasy yet calm, silence, Atsushi spoke.
"S'rry..." he slurred around his thumb in his mouth.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, weretiger. I'm assuming it was a nightmare, correct?"
Atsushi nodded, "was mean, h-he... he—"
"You don't need to explain anything, Jinko. Focus on remaining calm, hmm?" Akutagawa always reminded that Atsushi did not need to explain his nightmares, more so, every single one of his behaviors. He did not need to have a reason or an excuse about every thing he's done, does, or did. That was a habit that Akutagawa was trying to help Atsushi to break.
Akutagawa knew that Atsushi had a tendency to involuntarily regress after having a nightmare, so, he never asked or mentioned it when it happened. It was natural, he didn't need to pry any further.
"Would you like to go the living room?" Akutagawa whispered into Atsushi's hair, getting a nod from the younger.
The older got off the bed, picking up the younger in his arms and carrying him. Atsushi's legs wrapped around his waist and his head was tucked between his neck and shoulders, his arms having a tight hold around the mafiosos shoulders as well.
Akutagawa passed the living room, though, earning a groan out of Atsushi.
"I know I said we'd go to the living room. My apologies, weretiger. However, I do think some food or a warm drink would help you."
The mafioso sat the white haired boy on a tall chair that was around the counter while he went to prepare a very late night snack for the two. (It was mostly for Atsushi since it was easier to get him back to sleep with something in his tummy.)
Akutagawa looked at what they had at their disposal. He could whip up a quick and easy sandwich with; white bread, ham, cheese, and tomato. And if he remembered correctly, regressed Atsushi loved that sandwich. He also prepared warm angel milk in a bottle, knowing that would get him to sleep immediately.
As the mafioso prepared this late night snack, Atsushi looked at the pretty vase that was on the counter top. It was empty since the flowers in it had wilted and had just gotten thrown away. The couple had found the vase by a dumpster and it seemed to be in perfect condition, so, they took it.
Atsushi pulled the vase towards him, tracing his finger along the purple swirls.
But it fell.
The vase fell off the countertop as Atsushi's tracing had pushed it off.
Atsushi fell off of the tall chair and started hyperventilating, his whole world shrunk then grew, his heartbeat was so fast that he could hear it thumping out of his ears. The air went cold and then it turned hot. His limbs were swirling in front of him whilst they were still intact. He felt himself leave his body and then return. He was the main character but also a spectator.
The director stood in front of him.
"You fucking brat, you were given the simple task to sit there and you went on and broke a fucking vase? You can't even sit right, that's how pathetic you are. You're worth nothing, your little boy toy is only with you out of sheer pity, do you understand? Because nothing, no one could ever love you."
"No, no, no, no, no." Atsushi backed himself into a wall, his hyperventilating growing faster with each passing millisecond. There was blood pooling out of the veins in his wrists and burns all across his forearms. Cuts and bruises were there as well as a constant reminder that his sole purpose was to be another persons puppet to cut and destroy as they please.
The director took the metal rod and smacked Atsushi's head with it, earning a high pitched yelp of pain. He dipped that same metal rod into a burning blue flame and pressed it against his wrist.
"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO-" His breathing got so fast, his chest heaving so intensely that it felt like his organs were going to rip themselves out of his chest.
He passed out.
Atsushi woke up cradled against Akutagawa's chest with gentle tapping on his lower back. His favorite pacifier was in his mouth to help him ground himself. His eyes remained half opened as he took in his surroundings.
"You're in my apartment, Jinko," Akutagawa reassured. "You scared me a little there."
A little was an understatement.
Atsushi scared the fuck out of Akutagawa. That whole thing happened in less than two minutes. He was turned around making the sandwich and warming up the milk when suddenly, there were two noises; glass shattering and Atsushi falling. Atsushi scurried himself over to the wall so quick and when Akutagawa went to touch his wrist, Atsushi started yelling "no" so frantically that he was practically screaming it. And then he fucking passed out due to how much he was hyperventilating. It was almost a fucking miracle that he did pass out—at least, passing out stopped his hyperventilating and from having a potential heart stroke.
Atsushi looked at the TV to see Kiki's Delivery Service playing and focused on that for the time being. Akutagawa was so thankful he had called Yosano for advice on what to do as a last resort since Jesus Christ did Atsushi scare the shit out it him.
"Kitty," Atsushi slurred around his pacifier and pointed at the black kitty on the screen, he sounded incredibly tired, despite just waking up from fainting.
"Jinko... Cub..." Akutagawa attempted to get Atsushi's attention. "Would you like to eat now or save it for later?" The older used the softest voice he could as to not send Atsushi into another spiral.
"Food!" The weretiger responded.
Akutagawa adjusted his position from the couch, adjusting Atsushi with him so he could eat his sandwich properly without choking. Atsushi has a large appetite, so, he finished the sandwiches in a few minutes, barely leaving any crumbs.
"Good cub," Akutagawa praised.
"Baba?" The younger asked, nuzzling his head towards Akutagawa's chest.
"It's right here, Jinko." Akutagawa let out a soft chuckle. Typically, Atsushi doesn't use nicknames for things, but, he regressed to a much younger headspace than Akutagawa realized. Not that he minded it was just new uncharted territory for them both.
Akutagawa laid Atsushi's head between his arms and gently pressed the nip of the bottle between his lips, Atsushi accepted it and began drinking the bottle whilst watching the movie.
Five minutes later, the bottle was halfway done but Atsushi was passed out in the olders arms.
'As one should've expected,' the mafioso thought as he tipped the nip of the bottle out and replaced it for a pacifier. He grabbed the remote and paused the movie so they could resume it in the morning.
Akutagawa slowly got up, carrying Atsushi bridal style with the help of Rashomon. They slowly made their way to the bedroom, he laid himself down first and settled Atsushi on top of him—when regressed, the younger did not like to be left alone or untouched. And since this headspace age was new to the both of them, the mafioso did not want to take any unnecessary risks.
He used Rashomon to turn off the light and pulled the covers over both of them, kissing Atsushi's forehead in the process.
"Goodnight, weretiger."