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Ryuji threw his hoodie on, his arms stinging from the raw cuts self-inflicted not too long ago. Self harm was a habit to break, sure, but he wasn’t going to be doing that any time soon. If anyone else saw what he did to himself, they’d be mortified, but he didn’t get it. It was what he deserved, after all. One couldn’t be so constantly abused for so long to not be deserving of some form of physical punishment, right?
Originally, Ryuji had resented his dad. I mean, no one would like a beer bottle smashed on your head, the shards that caused a hospital trip that cost too much and caused more punishment later on. But after a while, it started to make sense. His dad wouldn’t hit him that much if he wasn’t doing something to deserve it, and he was hit an awful lot. So he must have deserved it some way or another. It was the only thing that explained it. The same ideology was reinforced after his run in with Kamoshida. One person hurting you could be discarded as their own flaw, but when the behaviour was repeated by someone else in a foreign circumstance, it couldn’t be a coincidence. It was Ryuji’s own behaviour that must have been causing it somehow, or his ‘look’ or something. A teacher, no matter how cruel, wouldn’t just break a student's knee out of sheer spite, it just didn’t make sense.
Thus, the only conclusion Ryuji had come to was that on some level, he deserved what had happened to him, despite the Phantom Thieves initial protests arguing otherwise when they first heard about the ‘Kamoshida Incident’. And if there was no one in his life to give that punishment to him currently, he’d have to do it himself. To get what he deserved.
A chime from Ryuji’s phone turned his attention elsewhere, snapping him out of his thoughts. Akira was asking him to meet up. He blushed slightly. Despite all his punishments, Akira was the one reward he allowed himself to have. The boy with the dark floppy hair and glasses was just too caring to resist hanging out with. Plus, Akira had a habit of burning himself up too much, and Ryuji took it upon himself to try to keep him in good spirits as much as possible. Also, he liked the feeling he got when he was around him, like everything was okay after all, and Kamoshida and his dad and everything else had never happened, and it was just them against the world.
He typed out a quick confirmation text to the other boy, then gathering himself up to get ready for the day with his best friend. Unlike their usual hangouts at LeBlanc, Akira had asked to meet at the arcade, so he wanted to make sure he looked extra nice. His 777 hoodie was a classic, and he left it on, instead changing into his cleaner pair of jeans he picked up off the floor. One run of a brush through his hair later, and the downing of his Ritalin prescription, he was out the door and on his way to meet his better half.
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They spent a few hours in the arcade together, struggling with the claw machines. He had bet with Akira that whoever gets the other a plush toy from one of them first wins, and they’d both taken the competition very seriously. Neither of them were very good at the games however, and two hours and too much money later they had only a small idol keychain to show for it. Akira had won it, so it was added to Ryuji’s keychain despite his lack of knowledge on who the idol in the keychain actually was. Looking at it brought him a strange sense of warmth, it felt foreign but inviting.
Now, he sat on the couch on his bowling lane, watching Akira take his bowl. After the winning of the keychain and subsequent competition, they both had a bit of money left each, not enough for lunch but just enough for the discounted bowling alley at the arcade.
“Try beating that,” Akira smirked after getting his strike, moving back to where Ryuji was.
“Nah man, that was just a fluke, you’re going down. For real,” he got up to take his turn.
Swinging his arm as hard as possible, so fast it caused a stabbing pain on his arm, he sent the bowling ball flying down the runway, knocking down all 12 pins. Smugly, he returned back to his seat next to Akira, and turned to gloat. But the playful expression on his face had been replaced with something much more sinister.
“Hey Ryuji, what’s up with your arm?”
“Huh? Whaddya mean?” His voice was so full of concern. Sure, that was normal when in a palace or something, but he’d been laughing less than a minute ago. Something was up with him.
Akira reached out to touch his arm, “Your arm, Ryuji, it's bleeding.”
Shit. Ryuji felt his blood run cold. He must’ve opened his cuts while bowling, recalling the pain from chucking the ball. He should’ve thrown it softer or something, now he’d ruined his whole day with Akira. He thought about lying about a cat scratch or something similar, but immediately dismissed the idea. He wasn’t a great liar to begin with, and Akira knew him inside and out, so would instantly know something was up. But he couldn’t just tell the truth. Hey Akira, I cut myself because I gotta punish myself. Okay, your turn for bowling now. How stupid would that be?
Instead, he jerked his arm away, “It’s nothin’,” Ryuji said, turning his eyes to the floor. It was such a blatant lie, but he didn’t know what else to do.
“Ryuji,” Akira’s voice was filled with such concern that Ryuji couldn’t help but turning back to meet him, but it only made him feel worse. He looked so worried for him, something he didn’t deserve. If he knew the truth, he’d probably be so disappointed, he might even stop speaking to him altogether. Ryuji’s stomach dropped at the thought.
“Dude, I’m fine, seriously,” he tried to sound as convincing as possible, “let’s just keep playing or something, it’s fine.” “I’m fine,” he added, as Akira didn’t look too convinced.
Akira sighed, “Ryuji, you’re clearly not, let’s just leave, ok?” He opened his mouth to protest, but the black haired boy interjected before he could, “Look, I’m not playing any more, and bowling is a two player game. Let’s just go back to Leblanc, and take it easy.” He must have still sensed some hesitation on Ryuji’s part, because he added, “I won’t force you to tell me what’s up if you don’t want to, okay? I just need you to know that I am here if you do want to tell someone. And you don’t need to act like everything's okay like with everyone else, you’re allowed to be upset.”
At that, Ryuji’s stomach sank even further. Akira was being so, so genuinely lovely, and to anyone else, that would’ve been great. But Akira didn’t understand, he wouldn’t understand even if he explained it to him. He didn’t deserve this at all. The kind eyes laying on Ryuji should be laying on someone more deserving, someone who didn’t get hit all the time.
He sighed. He wanted to reject Akira’s suggestion so badly, and just run home and ignore everything else. But that would upset the other boy, which is the absolute last thing Ryuji would want to do. Dejectedly, he exhaled, “Sure man, let’s go.”
At this, the fluffy haired boy looked visibly more relieved, “Alright, good. I’ll make curry too,” he gave a weak smile. Taking Ryuji’s hand, he led the two out of the arcade, navigated the train stops, and took the two into LeBlanc.
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The two were on opposing ends of Akira’s bed now, sitting in silence. Ryuji felt bad, he knew Akira was trying to help, but he just didn’t get it. He didn’t need pity and sympathy, because he deserved what people did to him. Surely Akira had to see that too? Why was he always so nice to him? God, it hurt his brain.
His thoughts must have caused him to bring his knees up to his head and curl up, because Akira very quickly slid over to aid him.
“Can I touch you?,” Akira asked, wanting to rub his back and calm the other boy down. Ryuji shook his head. If Akira laid a hand on him, he’d cry. He didn’t know what to do.
“Look, Ryuji, I want to help you, I do. But to do that, I need to know what’s wrong, okay? Can you tell me anything at all?”
His voice was so concerned and sad, it broke Ryuji. He raised his head to face the other boy, speaking harsher than intended, “You don’t get it, man. It’s not a fix it kinda problem, I’m just doing what I have to, keeping up what I deserve, you know?”
“What you deserve?,” Akira sounded genuinely confused. Of course he did. He was a lovely, lovely person who always assumed the best of people, especially Ryuji.
Ryuji sighed. Akira seemed so sad at not knowing what was going on, he may as well try to explain. Either way, he couldn’t be more upset, could he?
“Kamoshida, my dad, all that. They’re not here to do the job anymore, so I gotta step in and stuff.”
“Their jobs?, ”You could almost hear the wheels spinning in Akira’s head, trying to work out what the blond meant, “You mean hurt yourself?”
Ryuji nodded. There was nothing else to say really, he was right. He had to hurt himself because no one else would. Because he was horrible deep down and he deserved it.
The tone of Akira’s voice next was enough to shatter Ryuji’s heart in two instantly, he sounded so genuinely heartbroken to an extent he couldn’t describe if he tried. He was clearly trying to keep it together for Ryuji’s sake, but was failing. Shit, man. This is why he did what he did to himself, he caused poor Akira to be upset for nothing.
“Can...I ask why?” He was tentative with this, trying not to hurt Ryuji, but still clearly trying to get to the truth.
If he didn’t tell Akira, he’d probably just worry himself to an early grave, so he decided he should probably just get it out there.
“Dude, I mean, you don’t just hurt someone for nothing right? Like sure, you could argue my dad was just an alcoholic or whatever and took it out on me. But he wouldn’t be having to take anything out on anyone if I didn’t fuck things up in the first place, y’know? And I mean, Kamoshida is a piece of shit and all, don’t get me wrong. But why would two completely separate people do the same shit if I didn’t deserve it to some extent, right?” He saw Akira’s expression looking at him like he was about to be ill, but he had to continue. Once he started, he just needed to get it out there.
“Like I’m not saying I’m the devil or whatever, but I was definitely provoking them y’know? You don’t smash a bottle on your kid for nothing, the hospital bills aren’t worth it. You don’t break a kid's knee for fun, it’ll ruin your career, even if you hate them. I have to be doing something to warrant it, right? It’s something wrong with me, I’m just wrong like that.”
He took a breath to collect himself slightly, he was shaking a little, “And after we took down Kamoshida and all that, it’s not like there's been anyone there to put me in my place. But I need to be put in my place man, I deserve it. I just do. So I do it myself, you get me? No one better than yourself to sort things out, huh?” He said the last part jokingly, trying to lighten the mood in the room somewhat, because Akira looked one step away from an early grave. He was so taken aback by Ryuji’s words, that he almost looked out of breath as well.
The room was silent for a while. Ryuji had said everything that needed to be said, and Akira seemed to be at a loss for words. Instead, he had grabbed Ryuji’s hand and was gripping it like he didn’t ever want to let go. Like he was afraid of losing him.
How long they stayed like that, Ryuji wasn’t sure, but Akira suddenly rose up and told Ryuji not to leave, followed by his immediate exit from the room. The blond waited as patiently as he could, considering the circumstances, until Akira eventually returned with a ton of supplies in his hands.
He laid them down on the bed, medical supplies, “Ryuji,” he started, “Look, I’m nowhere close to understanding what you’re feeling, we’ve been through very different hells, so I can’t exactly rebuttal you in a way we’ll both agree. But I want to help, even if it's just a little. I swear to God I won’t judge whatever you’ve done, but can I at least make sure your cuts are properly cleaned?”
Ryuji smiled weakly. Typical Akira, so caring. A few days ago, he would rather die than let Akira see his cuts and stuff, but it felt different now. He knew Akira cared about him, and even though he didn’t directly tell him that what he was doing was wrong, he was making him want to stop a little bit more. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t try to argue, but rather understand, it was new, no one really cared about what Ryuji thought before Akira. Regardless, he decided it was for the best to allow Akira to clean his cuts, and so nodded in confirmation and slowly peeled off his 777 hoodie.
He could see Akira visibly try not to gasp, and rightfully so. Ryuji would probably have done the same if it was on anyone else. His arms were covered in deep, raw cuts, clearly carved out with the lack of care of blind anger. The other boy didn’t hesitate from cleaning them still, and began to apply disinfectant to the wounds.
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A lot of bandages, and a lot of stinging later, Ryuji’s arms were practically mummified. If it wasn’t so serious, it’d be hilarious.
“Ryuji?,” Akira tentatively asked.
“Mhm?”
“I know you think you deserve this all, and I suppose I can’t really convince you otherwise. But please, please just know how much I care, ok? If you need help with this kinda thing again, you can come to me. No matter what you think about yourself, I truly love you and the way you are, and I can honestly say that I don’t think you’ve deserved a single thing that those awful people did to you in the past, okay?”
Ryuji could have responded verbally, but he wasn’t exactly the best at words. And he had no clue what to say. Instead, he shifted next to Akira on the bed, and lay his head on his shoulder, hugging him at the same time. The other boy would understand he had acknowledged him, he was just like that.
The truth was, Akira’s words had actually had an impact. Ryuji didn’t feel as strongly about how he deserved nothing. Sure, he still felt that way, but the other boy had him questioning his morals slightly, which was enough. If he went home, he knew he’d just go back to the same pattern, so he made the first step towards getting better.
“Hey, Akira? Can I stay the night?”