Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chuuya wakes up to a splitting headache. Body-ache, honestly; everything hurts, and he can’t quite wrap his head around why yet. Opening his eyes feels like a monumental task, so he doesn’t even try. Just stays lying down in the dirt—because this is definitely not his bed—while he tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

Okay. Everything hurts. What was he last doing? Mori wanted him on an overseas mission. He was flying in the private jet, and then…

He bolts upright, groaning when his aching body protests.

A broken plane, still smoking. A dead pilot. It’s either a miracle or a testament to his skill that Chuuya walked away from that with just a deep-seated ache in his bones.

“Shit.”

His clothes are covered in sand and some blood, but, despite how costly they were, he can’t be assed to care. Where is his cell phone? He needs to call and get Mori to send a new plane after him. Preferably one with a competent pilot. What kind of idiot dies and gets their passenger stranded?

He pats his pockets until his hand hits something hard, and he pulls his cell phone out of his jacket.

“Shit,” he curses again. No service. If it even still works at all.

Ignoring his aching bones, he gets to his feet and looks around. Well. It’s an island. Covered in sand and trees, and… Maybe there’s people around here somewhere. Chuuya thinks he saw that in a movie once. They got stranded for weeks, only to discover there was a whole resort just on the other side of the island. Idiots.

He uses his gravity manipulation to float up high, high enough to see the whole island from an aerial view. And…nothing. Aside from the beaches, which seem to house nothing, the whole island is densely packed with trees.

Triple shit.

Chuuya floats back down to the ground, landing a little harder than he means to.

What the hell is he supposed to do? Sit around and wait for Mori to realize he’s missing and hope they have enough clues to find him? Fat fucking chance.

He’s about to fly up again when the sound of a twig snapping catches his attention. He snaps his eyes toward the sound. A wild animal? He sees a pair of eyes, wild hair—he’s not even sure what he’s looking at at first. It’s decidedly not a wild animal, it’s…

A boy.

A very, very naked boy.

He doesn’t seem to have caught on to the fact that Chuuya has spotted him. He’s wary, clearly. Nervous. Why, Chuuya doesn’t know, and, frankly, doesn’t care. He needs to find out where he is so he can get the fuck home.

“Hey!” Chuuya calls, and the boy startles from where he’d been half-hiding behind a tree, stumbling back and falling flat on his ass. Chuuya resists the urge to snicker. “Where are we?”

The boy stares at him, and Chuuya sighs. Great. This is going splendidly. Exactly what he needs, some brat who won’t bother to answer his questions. What an ass. How is he supposed to get anywhere with someone like this?

“Seriously, kid, I don’t have the patience to play around right now. Where is everybody else? I didn’t see any houses or hotels around anywhere.”

No response. Jesus fucking Christ, fine. Fine. Chuuya will just have to force it out of him. He’s probably a pervert anyway, standing around naked like that; guy probably deserves it.

Chuuya takes a step forward, pausing when the boy squeaks and scrambles backward. Is he…afraid of Chuuya? Why? Don’t get him wrong, Chuuya knows he’s a terrifying son of a bitch, but usually that’s reserved for people who actually know of him. Why would this random teenager in the middle of literal nowhere know anything about him?

“Hey,” he says, gentling his voice and putting his hands in front of himself, palms forward in a placating manner. Apparently he’s already abandoned his pervert theory in the face of a frightened teenager. Damn his soft heart. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, alright?”

It doesn’t get him a response, but the boy also doesn’t try to scramble away anymore, so Chuuya takes it as a win. He takes another step forward, then another, until he’s close enough to the boy to kneel next to him. “What’s your name?”

The boy swallows as his eyes trail along Chuuya’s form, and Chuuya almost goes back to his pervert theory. Except the gaze doesn’t seem wanting, it seems…curious? Awed?

What the fuck is going on here?

The boy—Chuuya really needs a fucking name already—moves to sit up on his knees. With some hesitation that seems to fade when Chuuya makes no move to stop him, he takes Chuuya’s hand in both his own. What is going on? What is he doing? Chuuya watches with furrowed brows as the boy rubs his thumbs along his palm. Teasing. No, curious. But why? It’s almost like he’s never seen another person before, but that would be insane. He’s not Tarzan.

He moves his hands slowly up Chuuya’s forearm, leaving chills in their wake. His touch is gentle, almost strangely so, but his hands are rough and callused and filthy.

He pauses when he gets to the cuff of Chuuya’s sleeve, head tilting curiously. Without asking permission, his fingers slip under the fabric and tug, and Chuuya yanks his arm back with a sneer.

“Hey,” he hisses, and the boy blinks at him. Well, clearly he’s not scared of Chuuya anymore. He supposes that’s a win. Maybe. “Both of us don’t need to be fuckin’ naked, alright?”

The boy tilts his head curiously before shrugging and going back to his examinations. Chuuya sighs. Alright, fine. Maybe he’s overreacting. But he’s got a naked twink in front of him who seems like he’s never seen clothes in his life, and Chuuya has no fucking clue what’s going on.

Said twink tugs at Chuuya’s collar, seemingly still trying to pull the fabric off but clearly having no clue what a button is. His touch is still too gentle, and Chuuya shivers a little at the feather-light caresses that unintentionally hit his skin as he toys with apparently unfamiliar fabric.

Then he moves right to Chuuya’s crotch, and, okay, Chuuya’s had enough.

“Alright, stop!” he snaps, grabbing him by the wrists and pulling his hands away from delicate areas. “You… What the fuck? Don’t you have any decency?”

The boy looks at him with absolutely no recognition, and something belatedly clicks in Chuuya’s brain. The lack of communication. The way he doesn’t respond or even seem to register what Chuuya is saying. The way he’s clearly never seen a shirt in his damn life.

“Shit,” he breathes. “You can’t understand a word I’m saying, can you?”

The boy tilts his head to the other side. Fucking hell. He really is Tarzan. This is what Chuuya has to deal with now? A teenager who can’t understand him, can’t speak, can’t communicate? Is Chuuya expected to take care of him now?

No fucking way. Chuuya’s not that good a person. He is in no way ready or willing to be someone’s dad, especially not some twink who can’t be more than a handful of years younger than him. Not to mention that he’s a little busy being stuck on a fucking deserted island. He’s kind of got his hands full, here!

There’s a wounded sound and Chuuya’s eyes snap back to the boy, who’s taking Chuuya’s arm in hand and examining it with furrowed brows. It takes a moment for him to realize he’s examining the blood.

Is he worried about Chuuya? Jesus Christ, they literally just met. He did not meet some bleeding-heart twinky Tarzan after crashing on some deserted island, he didn’t. It would be ridiculous.

The boy tugs him up with him and starts pulling him…somewhere. Chuuya doesn’t protest nor ask where they’re going. Mostly because the kid can’t understand him anyway. What’s the point in trying? It’ll get him absolutely fucking nowhere.

After a few short minutes, they get to… Is that a treehouse?

Chuuya groans. This is not getting any better.

He lets go of Chuuya to start climbing the tree. There isn’t even a ladder. How did he even build this? The boy looks down to see if Chuuya is following, frowning when he sees he’s decidedly not.

Chuuya sighs. Great. This is what his life has come to. Following some filthy (in the not-fun way) twink up to his treehouse in the middle of a deserted island. This makes sense. This totally isn’t batshit fucking insane.

Fine. Be that way.

He uses his gravity manipulation to float up to the top. He sits himself down at the edge and gives the boy a smirk. “Slowpoke.”

The boy’s eyes are wide, and he quickly scrambles up the rest of the way until he can start poking at Chuuya’s…everything. His chest, his arm, his leg—Chuuya stops him when he tries to poke at his crotch. What is this kid and his obsession with that? He’s got his own junk to be curious over! Chuuya would know! He’s so very naked.

“Alright, alright, I’m real! Stop that.”

The boy pouts but stops. Thank god. The poking kind of hurt a little. Much less gentle than when he was examining him like a vet checking over an injured dalmatian.

He moves further into the treehouse—his home?—and grabs some…cream? How does he have cream? Did he make that from the plants around? How?

Chuuya doesn’t have enough time to question it before the boy is slathering some over his cuts and scrapes. His touch is gentle once more, careful, and Chuuya wonders how much experience he has doing this to himself to know. Wonders how often this kid gets injured to be this good at it.

Wonders if he really is all alone here, and has been.

This close, and with nothing else to focus on but the slathering of cream, Chuuya finally gets a good look at the boy. His hair is a striking shade of silver, so much so that Chuuya would assume it was dyed if not for how impossible that would be here.

And his eyes. Like a sunset at its peak.

Vaguely, Chuuya wonders who could ever abandon someone so beautiful in the wilderness.

He shakes his head to knock that thought loose. What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s been ten minutes and it’s like the forest already has its claws in him.

He is not fucking twinky Tarzan.

The boy finishes whatever nursely duties he’s decided to take on, nodding once like he’s pleased. Then he wraps a few long leaves around each of the spots—to protect them, Chuuya assumes. How sweet. Chuuya would swoon if he wasn’t about to barf.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly before standing up, letting the boy blink up after him.

Now… To figure out how to get the fuck out of here.

There is no fucking way to get out of here.

The plane is completely trashed, and the nearest island is so far away Chuuya can barely even spot it in the distance. Way too far for Chuuya to even attempt to fly to. And he doesn’t have the tools or know-how to build a boat that won’t tip over the second a harsh wave comes by.

Leaving him to his only option: scouring the wreckage for some kind of radio. There has to be one on the plane, right? How else do pilots get in touch with the ground?

He does find something. Miraculously. It doesn’t really work anymore, but it’s better than his useless cell phone, if he can get it fixed up. He doesn’t really have the know-how for this, either, but he’s sure he can figure it out. All he really needs is a little elbow grease.

And for the kid to stop following him like a lost puppy.

“This is dangerous, alright?” Chuuya says, shooing him away. It doesn’t work, so Chuuya moves to plan B: grabbing the boy by the arm and dragging him away from the wreckage. It works way better.

Even if he does pout.

“Alright, Tarzan, first thing we’re doing is getting this radio to work so I can get the fuck out of here.”

The boy doesn’t understand a word, but he seems to grasp something in Chuuya’s tone, because he grins and hops up and down excitedly.

Which makes his dick flop around right in Chuuya’s poor face.

“…Okay, first we’re getting you some goddamned clothes.”

Making a very serious gesture for the boy to stay put, Chuuya heads back to the wreckage and does the only thing he can think of: he desecrates a dead body.

Namely, he yanks the clothes off the pilot and brings them to the boy. “Put these on,” he says, holding them out to him.

The boy tilts his head. So much tilting; soon Chuuya will be worried for his neck muscles.

Chuuya coaxes him to take the clothes until the boy gingerly takes the shirt off the top of the small pile. “Good, good. Now put it on.”

Finally. Now he can think in peace without some twink’s penis flopping around. How is this his life?

But at least the boy is finally getting dressed.

He puts the shirt on his head and puffs out his cheeks before falling into a fit of giggles.

Chuuya pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Okay, plan B.

This is going great.

Chuuya drops the pants into the sand and tugs the shirt off the boy’s head, ignoring the way he puffs his cheeks out in a pout. “Come on.” He takes the boy’s arm and sticks it in its respective sleeve, then the other. Only bothering to do two of the buttons, he moves onto the pants.

These are far more difficult. Trying to get the fabric on his legs proves to be a nearly insurmountable task, because the boy is adamant against it, for some reason.

“Come on,” Chuuya sighs, catching the boy’s ankle when he aims another kick in his direction. “I’m just trying to stop your dick from blinding me. Please?”

He hisses. Hisses. Like some cat on the defensive. What the fuck?

“Okay, fine. Fine. You wanna be naked, stay naked. See if I care.”

He drops the ankle into the sand and stands.

The boy smirks.

Oh, fuck no. He does not get to be smug right now. Chuuya sneers and tackles him, ignoring the squeal he lets out, moreso when it turns into a giggle. The brat. “You are wearing these pants whether you like it or not!”

It’s a struggle getting them on. The boy keeps kicking him, like Chuuya can’t catch each one effortlessly. But just because he can doesn’t mean he wants to. Eventually, he turns the boy’s legs heavy enough that the strength it would take to kick him again proves too much, and he decidedly does not feel guilty when the boy seems to panic a little at the sudden change in gravity on his limbs.

With far too much effort, he gets the pants on. Finally. Chuuya realizes belatedly that the clothes are swimming on him, but that’s fine. There’s a belt. As long as his dick is finally covered, that’s all Chuuya cares about.

The boy is pouting, but Chuuya resolutely ignores it. He needed to get dressed, okay? It’s ridiculous to walk around with your dick out. He’s not a literal animal, he just might have been raised by them.

God, this is ridiculous; what is Chuuya even doing here, getting a teenager dressed in clothes that don’t even fit him?

“Don’t pee in them,” he says.

This is going to be a long stranding.

There’s nothing to keep Chuuya occupied. He doesn’t know how the boy hasn’t gone insane with it after years of living here all alone. He feels like his brain is melting out of his skull with boredom. He’s not exactly an extrovert, but he’s not so introverted that being alone on a deserted island is his dream vacation. He needs companionship. He needs conversation.

He needs wine.

“Hey,” he calls to the boy, who seems to recognize the word enough to know Chuuya is trying to gain his attention. Or maybe he’s just drawn to noises. Drawn to the only other human he’s likely seen in who knows how many years. Either way, his eyes are on Chuuya, who asks, “Is there any water around here?”

The boy tilts his head to the side. Right. He still doesn’t understand a fucking word Chuuya is saying. Great.

Chuuya mimes drinking from a cup. “Glug glug? Anything?”

He tilts his head to the other side.

Chuuya sighs. Alright, new plan.

Looking around for something, he realizes he’s right by the ocean. He knows damn well he shouldn’t drink saltwater in any hydrating quantities, but maybe it can still be of use to him. He cups his hands and gathers up some water in them, then moves to lick it.

Well. To mime licking it.

The boy doesn’t seem to know the difference, though, as he screeches and bats the water out of Chuuya’s hands before running off.

Uh… Okay…?

Chuuya wonders where the fuck he’s run off to—did he frighten him that badly that he just straight up ran away? It can’t be that awful to drink some saltwater, can it?—only for a moment before the boy is back, holding something brown and fuzzy.

Oh. There’s coconuts here. Well, that works out well for him.

The boy doesn’t bother to hand him one of the coconuts. Chuuya would be offended, except for the fact that he frankly has no clue how to open one. He’s sure he could figure it out. But why even bother, when he’s got a lovely little monkey man to do it for him? Chuuya can just sit back and relax.

There’s a loud sound as the boy bashes the coconut against a sharp rock.

Is…is that really it? Chuuya could have done that. Hell, Chuuya could use gravity to do it even better.

The bashing continues until there’s a long crack along the surface of the coconut, which the boy uses seemingly all his strength to tug at until it opens, and he makes a pleased sound. He hands Chuuya the half with water in it.

“Thanks,” Chuuya murmurs, taking a large gulp without any hesitation. He doesn’t know how he feels about the taste, but it’s water, so he’s not complaining. At least now he won’t die of dehydration.

Once Chuuya’s drank the whole thing (plus two more) and is satiated, he realizes the boy is staring at him very intensely.

Oh, what now?

“Spit it out,” he sighs.

The boy keeps staring at him, frowning, a divot between his eyebrows. Then, he takes his finger and points aggressively at Chuuya, then at the ocean water. Still staring at Chuuya, he slowly shakes his head.

Chuuya would spit out his water if he was still drinking.

That’s fucking adorable.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t drink the saltwater.”

The boy seems pleased with himself, nodding once and taking a sip of coconut water.

A storm hits that night. Because of-fucking-course it does. Why would Chuuya have even a single ounce of luck? No, he’s got to get stuck in a fucking storm in the middle of nowhere with some teenager—cute as he may be—who can’t speak a lick of human language and is, apparently, terrified of storms.

Chuuya sighs heavily. Is this what his life is now? Having to take care of some feral child until he gets off this godforsaken island?

And what then? What of when he manages to fix the radio and get saved? He can’t bring the kid with him, but he can’t just leave him here. Alone. Chuuya is a lot of things, including a murderer, but he is not heartless.

With another sigh, Chuuya lies down next to where the boy is curled up at the far edge of his treehouse, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. The boy seems surprised at first, but he quickly finds his way, shivering, into Chuuya’s embrace. Buries his face into Chuuya’s chest like he’s the only one who can watch out for him. Save him from the storm.

“It’s okay,” Chuuya says softly. “I’ll protect you.”

And, with a start, Chuuya realizes he means it.

…Ah, fuck.

“You should really learn some Japanese,” Chuuya says after a few days. “Even just a few words.”

The boy doesn’t understand it. Obviously. But Chuuya still tries, because what else is he supposed to do? Die of boredom? No way. He will make conversation if it kills him.

He snaps in front of the boy’s face to get his attention. Once he has it, he points to himself.

“Chuuya.”

The boy tilts his head curiously.

“That’s my name. Chuuya. Can you say that?”

He tilts his head to the other side.

Chuuya sighs. This is going well. Okay, take two; how does he get him to understand what he’s trying to get him to say?

He takes the boy’s hand in his own and presses it to his chest. “Chuu. Ya. Say it.”

He blinks, uncomprehending.

“Chuuya. Chuu. Ya. Chuu. Say it, Chuu.”

Something like realization lights up in the boy’s eyes, and Chuuya has a moment to think he’s finally gotten through to him. Finally! This is the start of it all. Soon enough they’ll be able to have conversations.

…Only for the boy to pull off his belt and hand it to Chuuya with a beaming smile.

Chuuya sighs and pats the boy’s head, smiling a little when he purrs. He really is just a big cat, isn’t he? “Alright, fine, maybe I expected too much of you. Do you even have a name?”

There’s no answer, of course. Chuuya no longer expects one.

Still. It was a nice thought while it lasted.

That night, Chuuya finds clothes.

They’re not his own clothes or the clothes of the pilot. They’re rags, blue and clearly belonging to a child. Some kind of uniform, but too much like pajamas to be for a school. Chuuya would wonder if they were a prison uniform, if not for the size and color.

There’s one thing that catches his eye, though. Sewn into the breast is some kanji. A name.

A name.

“Atsushi?” Chuuya says aloud, and the boy snaps his head to him, eyes wide.

Huh. Interesting.

“Atsushi?” he repeats. “Is that your name?”

The boy—Atsushi, Atsushi—crawls over to him and take the rags in his hand. Chuuya thinks they must be something precious. The only piece of his past he likely has.

How wrong he is.

Atsushi takes the clothes and throws them away with force over the edge of the treehouse, as far away as he can manage. Then, he curls up in a corner and shakes.

Chuuya feels like he’s fucked up, but he has no idea how.

But it’s a start, and Chuuya will use it however he can.

“Atsushi,” Chuuya says, smiling when the boy perks up and pays attention to him.

He points to Atsushi. “Atsushi.”

Points to himself. “Chuuya.”

Atsushi blinks. Should he go slower? Chuuya’s not sure he can at this point. What else is he supposed to do?

He points to him again. “Atsushi.”

Atsushi points to himself. “A…shi…”

“Good!” Chuuya grins. “That’s very close!”

He points to Chuuya. “Ashi.”

Chuuya sighs. “No. You’re Ashi. I mean, you’re Atsushi.” He points (perhaps a little aggressively) at Atsushi. “Atsushi.” Points to himself. “Chuuya.”

Atsushi furrows his brows. “Ashi… Ch… Cho…”

Oh, god. Is it happening? Is he finally going to hear his name off someone else’s lips for the first time in days? Is he one step closer to conversation? Chuuya’s nerves are thrumming just thinking about it.

“Chuuya,” he says again. “Come on, you can do it. Chuu-ya.”

“…Choo…uh…”

“Good! Very good.” Chuuya can’t help but grin at him, and he runs his fingers through Atsushi’s knotted hair. “Man, I’ve gotta get some shampoo and conditioner for you. Your hair would be gorgeous with some proper hair care.”

Not that Chuuya does too much of it himself. Shampoo and conditioner is his limit, and even that’s only because Kouyou taught him well. But nothing past that stuck. Doesn’t mean he can’t help out the cute little thing.

…Cute?

Ah, fuck.

“Hey,” Chuuya says, trying to find his footing again. He is not fucking twinky Tarzan. That has been well established.

(Except he might want to fuck twinky Tarzan.

Fuck.)

“How about I braid your hair?” he offers quickly.

Atsushi doesn’t respond, but Chuuya doesn’t let that deter him. He taps his shoulder and gets him to turn around until his back is to Chuuya. His hair is long, more than long enough for Chuuya to throw it into a braid. He probably won’t even need a ponytail. Which is good, considering that Chuuya doesn’t own one.

Yes, he knows people think he wears a ponytail. Yes, he knows his hairstyle is objectively stupid. No, he doesn’t care.

He sections the silver hair off into three equal parts. It’s not easy with all the knots, but after running his fingers through it a few times, he manages. After that, braiding it is a fairly simply task. Relaxing, even. Twist, grab, fold over—Chuuya appreciates the calming motions, the silence.

He takes a deep breath.

“I wonder how you got abandoned here,” he says after a minute or two of nothing. “Seems like you were just a kid. Wasn’t anyone looking for you?”

Atsushi hums an unfamiliar tune, uncomprehending of Chuuya’s words. That’s okay; he wasn’t really asking.

He has a terrible feeling he already knows the answer.

Finishing the braid, Chuuya lets his forehead fall onto Atsushi’s shoulder. They may not be able to communicate, but even Chuuya can see how kind he is. It practically radiates from the boy. From how he dressed his wounds to how upset he was when Chuuya tried to drink seawater, he just…is. So why…

Chuuya sighs. No point dwelling on it.

He’ll get out of here. And he’ll bring Atsushi with him.

“Fuck!” Chuuya shouts, tossing the broken radio onto the floor of the treehouse. “Stupid, useless piece of shit!”

Startling from his spot at the loud sounds, Atsushi carefully crawls over to Chuuya, taking his hands in his own with an inquisitive sound. It’s sweet. It melts Chuuya a little bit, if he’s honest. Who created this creature? So kind and pure and all fucking alone?

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, running his fingers through Atsushi’s still knotted hair. He does the best he can, but there’s only so much he can do with only his fingers to use. He really needs to get an actual brush in that hair. But Atsushi melts under the touch regardless, purring softly. “Just frustrated. I want to get us out of here, but I can’t if I can’t figure out how to fix this stupid radio.”

Atsushi tilts his head before taking the radio in hand. He looks at it curiously before sticking it between his teeth and trying to bite down. When it doesn’t do anything, he frowns. Chuuya snorts.

“It’s not food, Atsushi.”

“Ashi!” Atsushi says excitedly. “Choo-uh!”

Chuuya’s smile is warm and he tugs Atsushi onto his lap, continuing to run his fingers through long, silver locks. “Yeah, bun,” he murmurs. “That’s us.”

Atsushi adjusts himself in Chuuya’s embrace until he’s settled between Chuuya’s legs on the floor, Chuuya carding his fingers through his hair while Atsushi toys with the buttons on the radio.

“I’ll get us out of here,” he whispers into his hair. “I promise.”

Atsushi doesn’t understand it. They’ll get there. He’s illiterate, but he’s smart; Chuuya knows it. He’ll learn soon enough.

Either bored with playing with it or trying to be encouraging—or, knowing him, both—Atsushi hands the radio back to Chuuya. When Chuuya doesn’t take it right away, he shakes it, puffing his cheeks out in a pout. “Choo-uh,” he whines.

Chuuya snorts. “Alright, alright.” He takes the radio and sighs. What is he even supposed to do with it? He has no fucking clue how to fix a radio, what is he even thinking? He’s gonna have to find another way out of here.

Maybe he should just wait for Mori to find him.

Ha. Good one. He may be an executive in the Mafia, but that doesn’t mean he’s not replaceable. Sure, they’ll look. Probably devote a lot of manpower to finding him. But they won’t, and that’ll be the end of that. They’re not going to go as far as they’ll need to to find him way out here.

He’s alone.

Except, he’s not, is he?

He noses behind Atsushi’s ear, wrapping his arms around his chest and squeezing him close. Atsushi giggles and turns to rub his cheek against Chuuya’s face. It brings his lips unreasonably close to his own, and Chuuya’s breath catches in his throat.

He’s so close.

Too close.

Would it be taking advantage, to kiss him right now? Would Atsushi even know what a kiss is?

Worst of all, would he reject him?

No, worse—would he accept it?

Atsushi is blinking at him, confused at Chuuya’s sudden tenseness and silence. His head is tilted to the side like it always does. It’s adorable, Chuuya decided days ago, Everything about him is adorable. Chuuya can’t say he’s fallen in love, not this soon, but he’s fallen in something, and that scares him a little bit.

Then, Atsushi seems to come to some kind of decision.

…and kisses Chuuya.

If Chuuya thought his breath was catching before, it’s nothing compared to now. He inhales sharply through his nose, heart thundering in his chest, butterflies fluttering nausea in his stomach.

Is this wrong? Should he stop it? He’s practically an animal, Chuuya should— He should—

Except.

Atsushi’s not an animal. He’s painfully human, lonely and abandoned, uneducated but smart, and so, so unconditionally kind.

Chuuya won’t be another person who hurts him.

Hand coming up to his cheek, fingers splaying across the side of his neck, Chuuya takes control of the kiss. Atsushi’s attempt was cute, but he’s clearly never kissed anyone before, and Chuuya certainly knows what he’s doing. It only makes sense to take the lead, to hold Atsushi close by the hip as he teases his tongue along the seam of his lips, not yet trying to access but teasing, letting Atsushi taste him.

“Atsushi,” he breathes, fingers gripping his hip harder when Atsushi tries to mimic him, tracing his tongue along Chuuya’s lips. He’s a fast learner, he notes. Chuuya could get used to this too, too easily.

Atsushi doesn’t say anything back, but that’s okay. His breaths come in soft pants, like Chuuya is affecting him just with this, just with this one extended kiss.

It’s heady, and Chuuya never wants to let him go.

Careful not to hurt him, Chuuya gently pushes back until Atsushi is on his back on the floor, Chuuya hovering over him. Atsushi’s eyes are wide, his breath panting, the flush on his face running all the way underneath his collar.

Chuuya presses another kiss to his lips, then to his cheek, until he’s mouthing at his neck, head spinning at the way Atsushi whimpers at the sensation. Chuuya groans.

“How can someone like you be so fucking sensual? It’s like you’re tryna kill me.”

“Chuu…ya…”

Chuuya pauses, eyes widening. He releases Atsushi’s neck to look down at him in surprise. “…What did you say?”

Atsushi squirms under his intense gaze. “Ch…Chuu…ya…”

Chuuya captures his lips again, fingers digging a bruising grip into slim hips as he groans. It’s just his name, but coming off those lips it sounds like a prayer. It sounds…

It sounds fucking hot.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Chuuya groans, moving back to Atsushi’s neck and sucking a hickey into the spot. “So smart. So good.”

Atsushi may not understand the praise, but it feels right to lavish him with it anyway. Something tells him that if he could, he would have a praise kink a mile wide. And Chuuya is more than happy to oblige.

It feels like they kiss for hours, until their lips are red and dry, until Atsushi is squirming underneath him, clearly ready for more. But Chuuya is content like this, is happy just kissing the living daylights out of his—

His what? He’s not his boyfriend. He’s just…his.

And isn’t that a nice thought? Atsushi belonging to Chuuya and Chuuya alone. He could get used to that.

Maybe he will. Once they get out of here.

And they will. He made a promise, after all. And Chuuya keeps his promises.

Chuuya wakes up that night wrapped around a white tiger.

It’s somehow not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him.

He takes a moment to wonder what’s going on, to wonder where the hell Atsushi is, before it clicks. All the purring. The hissing. Maybe it’s too big a leap, but Atsushi is nowhere to be seen, and there’s a tiger exactly where the boy was just a few hours, so it doesn’t seem that insane.

He just never would have guessed Atsushi was an ability user before now. Chuuya feels kind of stupid about it now. How else would a little kid have survived, alone on a deserted island, if he wasn’t?

Chuuya runs his fingers through the soft fur, sighs pleasantly, and falls back asleep.

The tiger turns out to be very useful very quickly.

“Hey! Don’t run off!” Chuuya calls as Atsushi playfully runs ahead into the thick underbrush. He just wanted to find some more food, and maybe letting Atsushi go ahead is the smart thing considering he’s survived as long as he has, but, screw it, he doesn’t want the little thing to get hurt. He’s pretty sure Atsushi has no control over his powers, if he even knows he’s a tiger at all. And Chuuya has no way to tell him if he doesn’t.

Atsushi turns around and walks backward, hands clasped behind his back as he gives Chuuya a beaming smile. “Chuuuuuuyaaaaaa~” he purrs, and Chuuya wipes his hand down his face with a sigh. Great. He’s learned how to tease. Just what Chuuya needs.

“Just be careful,” he grumbles, just as Atsushi trips over a tree root. “Hey!” Chuuya catches him before he can fall on his ass with a sigh. Atsushi gives him a shy smile like he knows he messed up but also knows he’s too cute to get yelled at. Who knew he had such an ego? Maybe it’s Chuuya’s fault; he’s hardly hidden his feelings till now. “Idiot. You’re gonna get hurt. Let’s just find some food.”

Maybe Chuuya should just try to fish. It’s not like he needs to be able to properly catch them. All he’s gotta do is graze one and he can use his powers to pull it out of the water. Then, dinner. He’s never been much of a fish fan, but, desperate times.

But he lets Atsushi lead the way, and Atsushi takes them into the forest. Presumably to find some fruit. Well. At least it’ll be something.

Atsushi pauses by a tree before climbing it. God damn it. Chuuya is seriously worried for the safety of this kid’s head. At least if he falls, Chuuya will be here to catch him. It’ll still be a pain, though. Chuuya’s powerful, but he’s not known for his upper body strength. He could do it, but he won’t want to.

He will if he has to, though. For Atsushi.

He’d do anything for him, he’s coming to realize. And isn’t that a terrifying thought?

A coconut falls into the dirt by Chuuya’s feet, and he sighs in relief. Oh, thank god. He’s parched ever since they ran out of water last night. He bends down to grab it—

Only to stop when he hears a low growl nearby.

Shit.

The last time he thought there was a wild animal nearby, it turned out to be just a boy. But Chuuya’s fairly certain this isn’t just a boy this time. The growl is too real, too animalistic to be anything but a wild beast. And Atsushi is right there with him.

Slowly, careful not to anger the thing, he turns to see a leopard baring its fangs at him.

“Atsushi!” he calls, fingers still hovering above the coconut, not willing to make a real move yet. “Stay up there!”

Fine. He can do this. This is no fucking problem. The only problem is if Atsushi comes down, distracting him. The kid better stay put, for both their sakes.

Chuuya bares his teeth right back at the wild animal, growling low in his throat to match. “Come on. Come at me. See how well that goes for you.”

Oh, this is going to be good. Chuuya hasn’t had a chance to fight anything in a while. This might be just what the doctor ordered.

The leopard lunges at him as Chuuya is surrounded by red, grinning manically as he readies himself.

A blur of white and black tackles the leopard to the ground mid-lunge, and Chuuya blinks at the mess in front of him. The tiger.

Atsushi.

Does he have control after all? Was he just hiding it from Chuuya all this time? Chuuya probably shouldn’t feel hurt by that thought. Probably. Definitely. This is not the time.

He watches with wide eyes as the two beasts claw and bite at each other, but it’s obvious from the start who’s more powerful. Atsushi takes the leopard down in a way that looks almost easy. Despite being bitten and clawed at, there isn’t even any blood.

Is that part of his power? Invulnerability?

Good. That’s good. That means Chuuya doesn’t need to worry about him after all. (Not that it’ll stop him.)

Fight won almost embarrassingly quickly, the tiger steps over to Chuuya and rubs his snout along Chuuya’s upper legs, seemingly checking for any injuries. Chuuya huffs. “I’m fine. Thanks, Atsushi.”

As if that was all he needed, the tiger gets surrounded by blue light before turning back into his Atsushi, still somehow fully clothed and falling to the ground. Chuuya catches him with a grunt and looks down at his sleeping form with a small smile.

“Rest,” he murmurs. “You did well.”

He didn’t get his bloodlust out, but that’s okay. Atsushi is safe; that’s all that really matters to him.

Chuuya tinkers with the radio again. It’s his only hope, he knows, so, with another look at Atsushi’s open, precious face, he decides he will fix it, if it’s the last thing he ever does.

“Kiss,” Atsushi whines, pursing his lips and making smooching noises as if it will entice Chuuya. It does, a little, but he’s damned if he’ll admit it.

Oh, yeah. And Atsushi’s learned a few words. Namely, their names, home, and, because God hates him, kiss. Atsushi is relentless in trying to get kisses again. And Chuuya mostly indulges him, because indulging Atsushi is indulging himself, and Chuuya is nothing if not greedy.

But he’s busy. He needs to fix this stupid radio to get them off this godforsaken island; he can’t be getting distracted by Atsushi’s lips, no matter how full or red or tasty they may be.

So, so tasty…

Before he knows it, the radio is forgotten on the floor, Atsushi’s fingers twisted in Chuuya’s hair and Chuuya’s hands gripping his waist as they kiss, tongues caressing, teeth nibbling, whatever they can manage.

It’s heady, and Chuuya never wants it to end.

“No,” he growls, breaking away, leaving a dazed Atsushi behind as he falls back against the wall of the treehouse and fists his hair. “Atsushi, I have to do this, okay? Don’t you want to get out of here? Don’t you want to go home?”

Atsushi perks up then, nodding quickly. “Home!” he says, tackling Chuuya and rubbing his face against his chest happily. Right. To Atsushi, the treehouse is home. He thinks that…

Chuuya sighs, letting his head thump back against the wall even as his fingers card through Atsushi’s hair like a lover.

How is he supposed to get this through to him?

“Atsushi…” he tries, pushing his head back so he can look up at Chuuya, right into his eyes. Atsushi blinks. “Atsushi, this isn’t home.”

“Home,” Atsushi repeats with a smile.

Chuuya shakes his head. “No. Not home. Home is…” Well, he doesn’t exactly know where home is for Atsushi. So he’ll just have to bring him to his own. “Home is Yokohama. Can you say that? Yo-ko-ha-ma.”

Atsushi frowns in concentration or confusion, Chuuya can’t be sure. “Yo…ko…ha…ma…”

Chuuya’s smile is sad but wide, forced, as he pushes Atsushi’s face back into his chest and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah, baby,” he says softly. “Just like that. I’ll bring you home. I promise.”

“Home…” Atsushi murmurs. “Yokohama…”

Chuuya doesn’t know why that breaks his heart, but it does. Maybe it’s because Atsushi sounds so confused, like he doesn’t understand why home and safety is being connected to something other than their little treehouse. Something other than the little life they’ve built for themselves here, in the jungle.

But this is good. It’s better this way. He’ll take Atsushi back to the city, and they won’t have to fight to survive anymore.

It’s better.

It has to be.

Chuuya goes back to tinkering with the radio not long after that. He waits until Atsushi is safely napping before he does, not wanting to get distracted once again by Atsushi’s lips—err, his whining.

He can’t find anything else to do with the insides with his limited knowledge, so he tunes the frequency as much as he can, desperately trying to get a signal, babbling nonsense as he does so that someone will hear him if he does get through. If he can just get one signal, one station that works, one goddamned person to talk to and get them out of here…

“Hello?” a voice comes crackling through. “This is Black Eagle, are you there? Over.”

Chuuya bolts upright, eyes widening. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Is this real? Is this it? Is that really a person on the other end? Did he actually do it?

“Hey!” Chuuya says, probably a little too loudly. “Hey, I’m here!”

“Is everything alright? Over.”

“We’re stranded,” Chuuya says quickly. “Please, you have to tell the coast guard, or-or someone.” Belatedly, he adds, “Over.”

Atsushi stirs from where he’s been lying down with his head on Chuuya’s legs, snuffling as he buries his face in Chuuya’s stomach. Chuuya runs his free hand through silver hair.

“Do you know where you are? Over.”

“No,” Chuuya says, resisting the urge to disentangle his hand and scrub it across his face like a tired, middle-aged father figure. “I was on my way from Yokohama to Europe when my plane crashed, so probably somewhere in between the two.”

“Okay, I’ll tell the coast guard. Hang tight. Over.”

Chuuya drops the radio with a disbelieving laugh. Is this it? Are they finally getting found? Will he finally get to go home?

“Chuuya…?” Atsushi murmurs, rubbing his eyes with the back of his fist as he looks up at him.

“Hey,” Chuuya breathes. He puts on hand on either side of Atsushi’s face to pull him up into a messy kiss, which Atsushi melts into effortlessly. “It’s finally time, bun. We’re gonna go home.”

Atsushi furrows his brows. Points at the ground. “Home.”

Chuuya shakes his head. “Yokohama. Home.”

This doesn’t seem to please Atsushi. His lips turn down into a frown and he repeats, “Home,” pointing more firmly toward the floor of the treehouse.

Sighing, Chuuya takes Atsushi’s hands in his own, pulling them to his lips to give them a soft kiss. “Baby, no. This was survival. Now we’re going home. For real.”

“Sur…vi…”

“Survival. We were just trying to live. Now, I’ll take you home, and you’ll get to thrive.”

Chuuya presses his forehead to Atsushi’s and closes his eyes. “I don’t want you to have to fight for your life anymore. Never again. I’ll take you home, and I’ll take care of you for-fucking-ever, alright? You’ll never have to go hungry again. You’ll never have to fight a wild beast to protect me again. Never have to freeze again.

“Never… Do you hear me, Atsushi? I am going to protect you.”

Atsushi whimpers before tackling Chuuya, wrapping his arms around his torso and squeezing tight, burying his face in his chest as his body shakes with sobs. Chuuya sighs.

It’s fine. He’ll see soon enough. Chuuya will take him home, and he’ll see how much better it is.

They just need to finally get out of here first

“They’re looking for you,” the voice crackles over the radio. “Give them some time, but they’ll find you.”

Chuuya scrambles to pick the radio back up. “Thank you,” he breathes. “Seriously, thank you. What’s your name?”

“That’s not how this works,” he chuckles.

“Come on. I’m very powerful, as soon as I get home I’ll reward you for this. Heavily.”

“…How heavily?”

“How’s one million yen sound?”

There’s a silence for longer than Chuuya would like, until he’s finally speaking again, giving off a name Chuuya would never recognize in a million years. But he’ll remember it. He keeps his promises, after all.

“Thank you,” Chuuya says. “Over and out.”

He drops the radio again, letting his arms wrap fully around a trembling Atsushi. Chuuya sighs. What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to convince someone who can’t understand him that this is for the best?

Well. He’ll just have to show him.

No matter how long it takes.

It takes two more days to be found. In that time, Atsushi calms down significantly, returning to his bubbly, excitable self. Chuuya can’t help but smile at it. His Atsushi, back to normal. Now, if only he can stay that way. If only the people coming to get them won’t send him into another spiral.

Two days.

Two days before the sound of a jet reaches Chuuya’s ears.

Chuuya scrambles up, pulling Atsushi with him, before jumping out of the treehouse and running to the beach. He waves his hands in the air, calling, “Hey! Down here!” as loudly as he can. The jet seems to already know where they are, though, as it descends down until it’s just a handful of meters away. Chuuya grips Atsushi’s hand in his own.

“We’re going home,” he murmurs, kissing Atsushi’s knuckles.

Atsushi seems nervous, clinging to Chuuya as he stares wide-eyed at the helicopter. It’s probably an unfamiliar beast to him, but that’s okay. He’ll get used to it. And Chuuya’s here to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him again.

Chuuya’s breath catches in his chest when someone steps out.

“Boss,” he breathes.

“Hello, Chuuya,” Mori says, smile fixed on his face. “You caused us all quite a bit of trouble, you know. We thought you were dead.”

“How did you find me?” And he doesn’t mean to sound suspicious, he doesn’t, but Mori is eyeing Atsushi and it’s setting him on edge, alright? It’s not like he thinks Mori will do anything, it’s just…

Well. He knows what Mori did to Dazai’s friend. Isn’t that reason enough to be a little worried?

Mori hums. “We were keeping an eye on the coast guard, so when we heard there was someone stranded somewhere between Yokohama and Europe, I had a pretty good guess what was going on. And who’s this?”

Chuuya swallows, squeezing Atsushi’s hand tighter.

If Mori tells him to kill Atsushi, he’ll have to.

He doesn’t know if he could do it.

“…Atsushi,” he says. “He’s my…friend.”

Thankfully, Mori merely nods. “Alright. Well, we best get going. The Port Mafia needs its Executive, you know.”

Chuuya breathes a sigh of relief before tugging Atsushi along with him. “Thanks for finding me.”

Mori doesn’t answer, and Atsushi already doesn’t seem to like him. But he makes no move to do anything, simply sticks to Chuuya like glue as they enter the private jet. Once they’re settled inside, Chuuya leans forward, Atsushi’s hand still grasped firmly in his own.

“Home,” he says again, giving him a smile and kissing his knuckles.

Atsushi looks at where Chuuya’s lips press to skin before looking back up at Chuuya, returning his smile with his own apprehensive one.

“Home,” he says softly.

And that’s all Chuuya can ask for.