“I don’t think you belong in the mafia, Dazai-san!"
The boy, no, the young man tells him. Earnest sheen in his eyes even as his arms press stiffly against his sides and nervousness threatening to bend his back and shake his bones.
"I think,” Atsushi licks his lips and glances down at the concrete in a sudden wave of bashfulness, “I think that - I’m so sorry if I’m selfish, I have no right to be but - I believe your place is here."
Atsushi takes a deep breath and Dazai do to. The sunset makes all the grey areas sparkle, and the yellow in Atsushi’s eyes as he looks up at him glows vigorously. "With us,” Atsushi finishes, attempting to stay calm.
And, deep in that lonely hole inside his soul, Dazai yearns for that to be true.