Chapter Text
Dreams have never been easy for Atsushi.
It's like the Headmaster lurks in his brain, looming in the darkness, ready to strike. Sometimes, Atsushi still sees him. Sees him in the corners of locked rooms, in hammers and nails, in the number 72. The tiger haunts him, too—but he's getting better at controlling it, with Kunikida's help. He's not as scared of it now. It'll be a while before Atsushi fully makes peace with the tiger, but he's getting there. Slowly.
He's been out of the orphanage for a year and a half, now, and it's the happiest Atsushi has ever been. Getting up at 7 in the morning sharp, making breakfast, checking on the cats while Kunikida ruffles his hair and calls him a brat in that fond, I-pretend-I-don't-care voice he always affects in those moments, and a soft smile on his lips as Atsushi looks up at him with a cat in his lap. Burning ember sunsets sinking into the horizon. Walks down the shore. Trips to Yokohama's thrift stores, when Atsushi begins growing. Weekends of watching trashy movies and laughing at the characters. Schedules on the walls, marking each and every day. Homecooked meals.
But in the early hours of the night—springing awake, clutching at his chest, sobbing into scarred arms that wrap around him, tight, as if the pressure will protect him from the man in the corner telling him, worthless brats like you don't deserve happiness, you'll be left behind in the end, just like you always are , clawing at his neck, he doesn't want to be trapped again —it still feels like he'd never left.
Kunikida doesn't know. At least, Atsushi never told him. He's sure the older knows in some capacity—he can see it in his face, the way Kunikida will fix his gaze on Atsushi, studying him. But he only has guesses. Patterns of behavior beaten into Atsushi after years and years under the Headmaster's care. Kunikida doesn't know, though, not the worst of it, and Atsushi never wants him to find out. Never wants that fond gaze to harden, those gray eyes to look at him and realize that he should have never taken Atsushi in.
So, when Atsushi wakes at midnight, trembling from a nightmare that leaves him breathless (like the chain around his neck that choked him; like the cuffs around his hands, his ankles; like the cage they crammed him into with its bars pressed against his back and it was so tiny, he just wanted to get out— ) he tries to muffle his cries as much as possible. It is still dark out, but the sky seems a little lighter, so he assumes that it's still night, maybe around 3 in the morning.
As long as you aren't too loud, it'll be fine. That was what Kunikida had told him when he first took Atsushi in. He can still picture the moment perfectly: standing in the door nervously, watching this teenager shove a futon into his closet, offering him a place to stay, for reasons he still doesn't understand. It's been a while since then, and while he knows that Kunikida won't kick him out if he accidentally wakes the older up, he still feels a stab of guilt, motivating him to curl up even tighter, to disguise his sniffles. He can't wake him up, can't throw all this away because he was too weak to handle his memories—
Children like you don't get to cry , the Headmaster whispers, and he's not sure if it's the Headmaster saying it or himself, he's not sure which is worse.
He is not in the Orphanage. He's not . He's free, now, he's gone , the Headmaster is gone, or at least far away from him, and Atsushi, curled up in the closet, the whirring of the fan sputtering in his ear, a reminder that he's not there anymore, doesn't know what to do.
Leaving had never been an option. Only the good children got adopted—And Atsushi, as he knew, was not a good child. Cruel smiles, cruel hands, cruel words shouted across cold stone floors taught him that. And then he'd been kicked out, and he'd found a alleyway of stray cats and a boy with determined gray eyes and tuna in his hand, and now…
A knock on the closet door.
"Atsushi? You in there?"
Kunikida.
Fuck. He didn't— he didn't mean to wake him, he didn't mean to, he tried to be quiet—
The panic, which had begun to ebb as the night went on, returned full force. Please, no. Please. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry.
This was it. He's done it. He's fucked up, and now, he's going to be kicked out, and he'll be on the streets, alone again, always alone . Alone with the ghost of a Headmaster on the walls and a tiger in his brain and chains around his neck.
"I'm coming in there. Just—hang on a second." Keys jingle, echoing in the empty room. "Are you hurt?"
Atsushi swallows. His arms and neck were scratched, but that wasn't a bad injury. He's fine. He has to be. "No," he croakes—and then immediately berates himself for the act. His voice soundes terrible. "No, i'm fine. Don't worry. You can go back to sleep now."
"I'm not an idiot , brat. Something's wrong. If you really don't want me in there, I can go. But—" A pause. Then, continuing: "Don't leave me out if you want help, alright?"
Should he open the door? Probably not. Kunikida shouldn't see him like this. Snotty and bloodied and every bit the unwanted child the Orphanage told him he was. A monster.
Tentatively—a stray cat poking its head out of a cardboard box, nervous and scared as it left the safety of its hideout—Atsushi reaches out a foot and nudges the door open.
Please, let this be the right decision. Don't hurt me.
Slowly, a head comes into view. Kunikida .
The teen looks concerned, if slightly awkward—his past experiences with comforting children don't amount to much. His hands are held up, as if surrendering. "Hey, it's okay. Everything's okay. Do you… want a hug?"
Atsushi blinks at him. The dim light probably makes it hard for Kunikida to see, but he can manage just fine, with his tiger eyes. Then, he nods.
That was all the encouragement Kunikida needed, apparently. He sweeps Atsushi into his arms, wrapping them around him.
It only takes a few seconds for Atsushi to break.
"I'm sorry, i'm sorry , I didn't mean to wake you up, please , i'll be better, please —"
(Kunikida, for once, doesn't know what to do. He's good at comforting cats, yes, but people? That was a whole other ballpark. One he has no experience with. But, he thinks, looking down at the sobbing child in his arms, now would be a good time to start learning.)
"It's alright, kid. You're fine. I'm not going to kick you out. That would be extremely rude. Children shouldn't be left on their own, on the streets. Besides," he continues, "you haven't messed up, or anything. Why would I kick you out?"
Atsushi's brain comes to a halt. Does he really not know? "I woke you up," he says. "I woke you up even though you told me to be quiet and I deserve to be kicked out, that's just how it works."
Strong arms tighten around him. It should feel suffocating, sitting in this closet with another person, but for some reason, he doesn't mind. Instead, it feels… nice. Like he's being protected. Cared for.
( Dirty orphans like you don't deserve care.)
A sigh from above him—strained, as if suppressing emotion. "No one deserves that. Least of all you. I don't know who told you that, but you deserve to be cared for, no matter what. I don't care if you broke that rule—especially not because of this . Whoever told you that was wrong. Okay?"
For a moment, it was completely silent.
I don't have to leave. It couldn't be. He doesn't deserve this—doesn't deserve hugs, doesn't deserve comfort, doesn't deserve home cooked meals or a place to stay or someone to take care of him.
The Headmaster had said to him, Children like you don't get to cry . That was what he had been told his entire life. What was whispered to him every night before he fell asleep, even now; what was screamed at him through nails and fists and hot pokers and nights spent sobbing into hard stone. But…
No one deserves that. Least of all you. You deserve to be cared for. Wrapped in Kunikida's arms, Atsushi realized that, since the older teen had knocked on his closet door earlier, he hadn't heard the headmaster once. And maybe, just maybe, in the silence of the night, like a blanket tucked around them both, Atsushi could try to believe what Kunikida had told him.