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“You’re supposed to pet it like this,” Atsushi says, bent down in front of a little cat. He’s giving it a nice scratch on the head.
Akutagawa, however, is purposefully not paying attention. “Pet it like what?”
They’re—— they’re at a cat cafe. Quite honestly, Atsushi isn’t sure exactly how they’ve ended up here, because a) he has never been to a cat cafe and b) he has no desire to spend time with Akutagawa in any context, really. But here they are anyway, surrounded by a large number of felines, that of which Atsushi is excluded from.
Atsushi turns to face Akutagawa. He immediately furrows his brow. “You’re not even looking at me. Don’t pretend that you care!”
“I care,” Akutagawa replies, definitely not caring. It would be nice if he could be less dramatic about this whole spending time together thing, because that way, they would at least be able to go home sooner rather than later.
Atsushi stands. “No you don’t. You’re bad at lying.”
Akutagawa doesn’t say anything. He keeps his arms folded across his chest—which is the way they have been for the past hour and a half, it seems—and continues staring off to the side.
The cat, situated next to Atsushi, stares at the two of them in apparent great interest.
It’s actually a lie to say that Atsushi isn’t sure how he’s come to be hanging out ( haha—phrasing it like that makes them sound like friends from school ) with Akutagawa. Unsurprisingly, it was Dazai who planned this day for the two of them— planned it from my heart, as he had said. This whole thing was done so that they would have an opportunity to bond with one another. Be friendly. The whole drill.
Clearly, it isn’t working out too well.
“Why did you even agree to come along if you’re just going to stand there like a tree the whole time?”
In his head, Atsushi knows the answer to this question. He knows exactly why Akutagawa agreed to come: he couldn’t deny a request like this to Dazai. This is the only topic of conversation he could come up with to get Akutagawa to be responsive, though, so—he had to use it.
And of course, it works like a charm. Akutagawa snaps his head back. “I am not standing like a tree, ” he grits. Admittedly, it’s not the response Atsushi assumed he would receive, but it’s definitely better than nothing.
“Okay, sorry. You’re standing like a corn stalk. You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”
No reply. Akutagawa simply stares; his facial expression gives off the impression that he is holding himself back from exploding into a million pieces.
Atsushi shuffles his feet nervously.
This silence is awful. Maybe it would be better if they just went home and gave up, because all this tension certainly cannot be worth it.
Atsushi is about to share this sentiment aloud but he’s interrupted by Akutagawa mumbling something. The mumbling sounds like something along the lines of mmmokfineshowmmmmagain.
“Huh? What did you say?” Atsushi asks, raising an eyebrow. He feels as though he uses his eyebrows a lot whenever he’s near Akutagawa.
“I said fine, show me again.”
“Ah!” Atsushi lights up. He’s not sure why, as he was irritated just a second ago. Today is so confusing. “Like this,” he says, bending down and petting the cat again in the same fashion that he had previously.
“Hmmm.” Akutagawa does some more staring. “Hm.”
Then, as if pushed by a miracle, he squats down and gives the cat a pet on the head. His fingers just slightly bump into Atsushi’s, and when they do, Atsushi wonders if he should prepare himself for some kind of scuffle.
But—nothing happens. Akutagawa keeps petting the cat. He looks as though he’s taking it very seriously.
It’s kind of cute. Er, funny. It’s kind of funny.
“She likes you,” Atsushi says out of nowhere. He wasn’t even aware that he was thinking that, but, well—apparently he was.
Thankfully, Akutagawa gives no reply, sticking with his awkward trademark. Instead he simply continues doing what he’s doing. Pet, pet, pet. The cat continues to pur, happy as could be, and Atsushi wonders what it feels like to be pet like that.
He blinks the thoughts away.
“She’s soft,” Akutagawa suddenly mumbles. His voice is different than how it usually is—it isn’t gentle, per se, but definitely has a hint of warmth to it. It’s as if he hasn’t realized what he just said.
Atsushi isn’t sure how to reply. “Yeah,” he whispers, smiling a little. “She’s definitely soft.”
The cat looks back and forth between the two of them as it has been doing this whole time, and Atsushi wonders if she knows something that the two of them don’t.