˚✮ Ghost in the Abyss ✮˚

Chapter 2: The Weretiger's Grief

Atsushi POV!!!

Trigger warning(s): Panic attack, me giving Atsushi more trama cuz he's one of my favorite characters. (Poor Atsushi)

                                                      °˖✧✮♡✮✧°˖

Atsushi couldn't breathe.

The Agency was quiet, painfully so, as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something—anything—to make this nightmare end. But nothing happened. No one moved. No one spoke.

And Dazai... Dazai still wasn't there.

Atsushi's hands gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles white from the force of it. His heart pounded too hard, too fast, like it was trying to leap out of his chest, and no matter how many breaths he tried to take, none of them felt deep enough.

It couldn't be real. It wasn't real. Any second now, Dazai would stroll through the door with that stupid grin on his face, acting like he hadn't just thrown the Agency into chaos. He'd laugh, teasing them for falling for another one of his tricks, and everything would be normal again.

Atsushi just had to wait. Just had to hold on a little longer.

"Are you okay?"

The words sounded distant, like they were being spoken underwater. Kunikida was standing next to him, his voice level but lacking its usual edge. There was something else there now—concern, maybe? Atsushi couldn't tell. It didn't matter.

He nodded, though his head felt like it was full of static. "I'm fine. I'm... fine."

But the words sounded wrong even as they left his mouth. His throat felt tight, his chest aching from the effort of keeping it together.

Fine? He wasn't fine. How could he be fine when—

No. He couldn't think about that. It wasn't true. Dazai wasn't...

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the rising panic back down, but the edges of his vision were already blurring, his mind spiraling into a thousand fragmented thoughts that he couldn't catch fast enough.

It's not true. It's not true. Dazai wouldn't—he wouldn't leave like this. He promised, didn't he? He always promised he'd take Atsushi out drinking one day, or they'd die together, or... something. Something like that. Dazai didn't die alone. He couldn't have. That wasn't—

"Atsushi?"

The voice—Kunikida's voice—snapped him back, sharp like a needle, and suddenly the world felt too loud, too close. His breaths were coming in shallow gasps now, the room tilting at a sickening angle.

No. No.

He wasn't here. He wasn't in this room. He was somewhere else. He had to be.

"I—" Atsushi's voice cracked, and he barely managed to get the words out, "I need to go."

Without waiting for Kunikida's response, Atsushi stood up too quickly, the room spinning around him. He pushed his chair back, the screeching sound it made scraping against his ears. His vision swam as he stumbled toward the door, his legs weak and shaking beneath him.

"Atsushi, wait—"

But he couldn't wait. He had to get out. He had to find Dazai. He had to see him—to hear his voice. If he could just hear Dazai, even just for a second, then everything would be okay. He could make everything okay.

The hallway outside felt too narrow, the walls closing in around him as he ran. His breathing was coming faster now, ragged and uneven, each inhales sharp like glass. He didn't know where he was going, didn't care. His feet moved on their own, carrying him further and further away from the suffocating stillness of the office.