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Atsushi’s breath left him in pants, his surroundings smelled of copper and his hip bled. His heart beat erratically but was slowly easing as he wound down from the adrenaline that had rapidly coursed through his veins filling him with energy that shook his body.
The job was done. Their mission a success. The man who’d almost escaped with too much information on the inner workings of the Mafia beaten to a bloody mess left to lie pitifully on the concrete. He'd been knocked unconscious and several men dressed in black suits moved to quickly remove the man and bring him back to the Mafia. Atsushi shuddered at the though of what further torture the man would soon face. Even if it was deserved.
The job was done and as the faceless men cleared out of the wreckage of the storage building used to hold weapons Atsushi could feel the presence of a single person remain.
His hip was healing, albeit slowly but nonetheless the wound was closing so the tangible concern he felt emanating from the man behind him was unnecessary.
Akutagawa coughed as though to catch his attention, “Jinko,” he said when Atsushi said nothing.
“I'm fine.” He responded, turning around to face a beaten up Akutagawa. His mouth bled and his knuckles dripped red. His cloak was torn in new places but those tears were slowly pulling back together.
“Is that so.” Akutagawa said with a step forward cutting some of the distance between them. Halving it. He was close enough now that Atsushi could see the nuances of greys in his irises and could see the stifled shudder of breaths still too quick from the previous exertion. He was close enough now that Atsushi could feel the pull, magnetic, that beckoned him to the man. Begged for collision.
Neither one knew who initiated it - maybe it was both of them reacting, responding to the call - but they quickly found themselves lost to the other’s embrace. Lips colliding in some vicious meeting of teeth and tongue and nothing gentle. Metal filled his mouth, overwhelming him. Akutagawa had gotten a well aimed punch to the jaw, his teeth bleeding, and disgustingly enough, Atsushi found the flavor to be intoxicating. Atsushi hummed into his mouth. His fingers intwine with the black hair that fell to brush a pale jawline. Looped into black and white.
They pushed and they pulled. The last dregs of adrenaline fueling their movements. Rough. Fingers gripped his hips, skirted the edge of the slash along the jut of his hipbone. He hissed at the pain of it. The sear that struck along the surface of his skin. But Akutagawa payed the sound no mind pressing his fingers harder into the inflamed flesh that was ever so slowly healing. The pain dulling, giving way to pleasure as their hips touched and rolled together in a rhythm.
Atsushi broke away from him, “We can't do this here,” he said and Akutagawa with eyes cloudy and pupils enlarged nodded. Releasing his iron grip of Atsushi’s hips and stepping back. But when he pulled away it was despite the look in his eye clear he had no intention of continuing what transpired between them moments before Atsushi protested.
He was angry. He had a right to be.
Two months ago Akutagawa asked him to stay. To try. But Atsushi turned him down. Told him a relationship wasn’t smart. That they didn’t make sense. Even when it was properly discussed Atsushi could come to no other conclusion. Upset and hurt those emotions cloaked with anger Akutagawa had asked if Atsushi was afraid of him. If he feared that Akutagawa would harm him. The question quickly drained the mafioso of his anger and left him bare and exposed. His hurt and above all his shame so clear, unfiltered and utterly heart wrenching to look upon.
Atsushi was quick to dissuade the thought, almost frantic as he spoke, explaining he wasn’t afraid of him, how could he be afraid of him? They’d fought alongside each other enough times for fear to dissolve, for trust to blossom in its place. Their past battles a distant memory of pain and mistakes and so much blood drawn from both sides that it wouldn’t be fair to blame Akutagawa solely for what occured back then. Back when they were little else than rivals. Besides if nothing else the mafioso has saved Atsushi's life enough times to make up for all the times he attempted to take it.
“I need to go,” Akutagawa said coughing into his palm eyes falling away from Atsushi’s face and landing on the concrete. Atsushi swallowed thickly before he responded, “Yeah, me too, I have to uh...ah tell Dazai of the mission’s success...write a report and Kyouka-”
“Right,” Akutagawa cut him off, a relief and a curse. A relief because he saved them both of Atsushi’s tendency to ramble, a curse because that cut their time short and the awkward stiff movements of the man as he turned to leave rattled Atsushi’s heart so terribly he wanted to banish every worry he had about falling into Akutagawa and just fall.
But he couldn't. Not when he was so afraid of falling. Of tipping over the ledge and plunging into the darkness of the abyss below him. Akutagawa had said that he didn't have to fall alone. That they could fall together, that trying wasn't a one-sided thing. That a relationship, a genuine fight for the good and stay through the bad, was shared. But Atsushi didn't know how to do that. He didn't know how to share the burden of trying. He didn't know how to properly convey the fear of falling.
So he didn't. He rejected it, decided he was too afraid.
That it wasn't worth the hassle. Akutagawa's own words spat out with frustration. Hurt. Atsushi hurt him so much.
But Akutagawa relented in the face of his resolve.
Two weeks later though, after they agreed to keep each other at arms length Atsushi got drunk for the first time. With Akutagawa. He didn't know how that occurred. He didn't know when it was in the day that they'd found each other or why they'd decided to drink. But they did and they got drunk and then they fucked. It hurt. More than it should have. Not physically. Atsushi hardly remembered that part of it. No it hurt inside. Hurt like the first time they kissed and what should've been the last. Bitter. But oh so warm and inviting.
Not long after they did it again. Touched. Kissed. Bruised. Tore away clothing and traced old scars. Sober the second time. Completely aware just neither of them cared and strangely the expirience had been somewhat numbing. He got lost in the pleasure and forgot about all the mental and emotional suffering that had come with the previous time they'd fucked. He hated seeing it that way. But what they did could hardly be considered love in truest form. Now what they did was try to escape. Escape reality within the other person. Use them. But in those moments love was hardly there and oh how damaging that was to them both.
The third time Akutagawa asked him what he wanted. Asked him why he was doing any of it. No, had demanded an answer. Demanded why Atsushi could draw such a thick line between screwing around and trying to be genuine. Why he preferred to lie and pretend that sex was enough. That touches hidden away in alleys or the shadows of a cheap hotel bedroom was better than just trying to be real.
But Atsushi had held no answer for him. Not one that didn't sound pathetic. Or weak. Or useless. Or flimsy. He loved Akutagawa that was why he indulged in moments lost to pleasure of his touch, of his breath, of his taste, of his presence. Atsushi wanted Akutagawa to be his in a way no one else could have him. He wanted to be Akutagawa's in a way no one else could claim him.
"But you're afraid of actually calling it a relationship?"
Yes..yes he was terrified of a real relationship. Of labeling them and realizing how truly important Akutagawa was to him. He had an idea. A vague abstract picture in his mind and feeling in his heart. Something that exploded when they touched and explored each other but not something concrete. Not something that could devastate him quite yet.
Not something that could completely destroy him should he ever lose it.
Akutagawa was gone and Atsushi was alone. He took a steadying breath in. Held it. Released it. He needed to get to the agency. To confirm the mission's success in person and write a report of what happened as quickly as possible. But Atsushi felt absolutely no rush to get to any of it. Instead savoured the lingering flavor of Akutagawa on his tongue and pleasurable ghost of fingertips on his skin, pressing into the half healed wound on his hip. The tingle in his fingers. And the rumble of his heartbeat.
Then when he could stall no longer he turned on his heel and left. Sure that there was no ache in his chest. That he was fine with the way things were. That even though Akutagawa sensed the lies, was probably disgusted by how easily Atsushi spout them, he would someday believe them too.
He was fine.
Even if it's a lie he would content himself with whatever they had now. As two who sometimes get lost. As two friends. As partners.
As strangers.
He couldn't however be together with Akutagawa. Not with the fear of losing it all so tangible in his mind like a rope around his neck threatening to drag him from the ground on which he stood and dangle him in the air. Take his breath away and never give it back.
Even if it's a lie Atsushi could live with lying to himself. Even if Akutagawa couldn't.
Because at some point even Akutagawa will believe him too.