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Atsushi plops his suitcase on the bed. Having only packed for two days, he didn’t bring much with him. Just a couple of pairs of clothes and a pile of presents the Agency insisted he brings along to the trip. Since he is on the outskirts of Yokohama, Kenji gave him a cowbell so it would be easier to bring the animal back home, he leaves the instrument at the back of the bag. Atsushi takes out the alarm clock Kunikida gave on the bedside stand and placed the box of tea bags Kyouka gave in the kitchen. He also leaves the obnoxious amount of bandages Dazai snuck into his bag with the cowbell.
He lays on the bed staring up at the ceiling. It is not every day he is given solo missions, and being so far away from everyone only lets his constant loneliness amplify. He itches to have someone by his side or have a book to entertain himself.
The guild announced they are preparing their revenge on the Agency and around the same time, Lovecraft is spotted emerging from a shore nearby this location. As a precautionary measure, the Agency has to eliminate Lovecraft. So, he is here for the capture of Lovecraft, all by himself.
A series of footsteps are heard. Keeping in mind that perhaps other roomers might be around, Atsushi isn’t bothered. Then, he heard the lock on his door click open.
His black-cloaked nemesis enters.
His heart began beating out of his chest. That motherfucker followed him out here to murder him, didn’t he?
He transforms his limbs to the ones of his tiger ability.
“Akutagawa!”
“Jinko?”
Akutagawa makes the first move by chanting “Rashomon” to impale Atsushi. Atsushi dodges naturally, like its muscle memory.
Akutagawa went from strick two. “You are trespassing into my room,” he sneers.
“You’re the one who barged into mine,” Atsushi says, dodging the new blow. “I was given the key to this room!”
“So was I. How else would I get here?”
“Can you please put away your ability, I don’t want to pay damages because of you,”
Akutagawa glares but does what he is asked, “It was you who transformed first, for your information.”
Atsushi sighs and puts away his tiger ability. He crosses his arms asking a question where he dreading he knew the answer already, “Akutagawa, why are you out here?”
“I am given orders to carry out here. Why else would I travel to this abandoned area?” Akutagawa confirms his suspicion. “I was told I had a reservation under my name in this room.”
“What do we do?” Atsushi asks more to himself, “We can’t share a room.”
“I will talk to the receptionist and you give your bothersome Agency a call,” Akutagawa says pushing past Atsushi to the landline on the bedside table.
“Why the Agency?”
“Can’t you tell? This situation reeks of Dazai-san’s schemes,” he says dialling a number, burying his face in a phone book. “Tell Dazai-san you refuse to room with me and get this over with.”
Atsushi turns away, ashamed he hadn’t put two and two together. Of course, this comes back to Dazai. No one else persisted he and Akutagawa should be within proximity. He scrolls through his contacts debating on If he should call Dazai or someone else.
Kunikida is reliable and would rarely defend working with the Mafia. He would be the best person to get him out of this situation, Atsushi determined. The phone rang and someone picks it up. It is not Kunikida’s rigid voice that chimes hello.
“Kunikida is busy right now. What can I help you with?” Dazai greets. Atsushi covers the speaker and groans. Of course, Dazai expected his call, predicted he would call Kunikida, and then, most likely, steal Kunikida’s phone. It is a feat only his mentor could do. Though he respected him, times like these made him wish he would be a bit more considerate with his plans.
“It’s Atsushi,” he says knowing Dazai knew it anyway, “Dazai-san, do you know anything about why Akutagawa is here.”
“He’s already there? That’s earlier than I expected.”
“So it was you!”
“Oops, did I forget to mention that Akutagawa-kun will be working alongside you on this mission?”
“Yeah, yeah you did.” Atsushi barely manages to sound patient. “I don’t mind working with him. The problem is I can’t rest around him. He’ll decapitate me while I’m asleep!” he whispers exasperated.
“There’s nothing I can do,” Dazai explains, “When we leaked the information to Akutagawa, we had to make sure we have a place booked for him to in case there are no vacant rooms since the area is popular this time of year. Then we had another problem; the monthly budget could not pay for two motel rooms and since you guys hit it off so well in other missions, we figured you two will be fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Atsushi protested, “and there’s only one bed!”
“You guys can sort that out, I’m sure. Good luck on the capture tomorrow though!” he finalizes.
“Dazai-san—”
“Atsushi, think of this as part of the mission.” Dazai requested, “Plus, I’m sure Akutagawa wouldn’t mind as much as you think he does, and you are only against this because you think he is, right?” Atsushi blushes, he is figured out. With nothing more to be said, Dazai hung up leaving Atsushi to dread reporting the information to his new roommate.
“You were right,” Atsushi tells Akutagawa, “Dazai is behind this. He said he wants us to treat this issue like it’s part of the mission.”
“That makes sense,” Akutagawa grumbles. “The receptionist lady said there are no vacant rooms here either. Any other motel or hotel is far too distant to be practical.”
“We’re stuck here, huh?” Atsushi smiles feebly as he scratches his neck.
Akutagawa ignores him and busies himself with his suitcase that screamed of the Port Mafia’s salary. If items could feel, his thrifted suitcase would likely be flushed with insecurity. Atsushi sat on the hardwood floor. It is a bit hard, but nothing compared to sleeping on the streets as he had done before.
“What do we do about the sleeping situation?” he asks. Akutagawa shrugs in response, so that meant it is probably his decision. The spot in front of the bed’s foot wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. He could sleep there tonight.
Atsushi watches Akutagawa organize his items out. Is Akutagawa always this complacent? He has readied himself to quarrel with Akutagawa all night. He is even prepared for Akutagawa to kick him out of the room. Perhaps it is Dazai’s impact, he did say it should think of the predicament as part of the mission. He still isn’t exactly sure what Dazai is to Akutagawa. He understands Akutagawa is somewhat loyal to his former mentor, but he also knows that Akutagawa resents talking about Dazai. For that reason, he is careful to tiptoe around the subject.
He glances over at him. Akutagawa’s eyes are sunken with purplish dark circles contrasting his sickly pale skin, as always. A permanent scowl plastered his features, yet there is something there that screams for help. Atsushi looks away.
He feels like a bad person for caring for Akutagawa.
Oblivious to his stare, Akutagawa mutters he is going to shower and leaves with a pile of black Atsushi assumes his clothes and a towel. In the meanwhile, Atsushi prepares a comfortable spot with an extra sheet he found in a closet and a pillow he took off the bed.
After a short 5 minutes, Akutagawa came out of the bathroom, water hanging off the white ends of his hair and an ankle-length fluffy black bathrobe on.
Atsushi snickers, the robe is perfectly in character for the guy. And of course, a blade of Rashoumon missed him by just a centimetre. Completely disregarding Akutagawa’s embarrassment, Atsushi runs a hand through the soft robe.
“You got to let me borrow this sometimes,” Atsushi says moving away with a final pat on Akutagawa’s shoulder. He took his toiletries to the bathroom, feeling Akutagawa’s gaze— or glare on his back. As he entered the bathroom, he is hit with the whiff of the smell of wet socks. More precisely, it is the smell of a wet coat.
“Akutagawa, why is your coating soaking in the bathroom?” He screams.
Akutagawa looks up innocently, “It got wet.”
“It’s not wet, bro. It’s fucking drenched.”
“That is what happens when clothing is exposed to showers, I suppose.”
“Are you implying you shower with your coat on?” Atsushi says in disbelief.
Akutagawa turns away, “It is far more comfortable to shower with a coat over my shoulders than to go completely bare.”
“I can’t believe you,” he shakes his head. Though he doesn’t get it, he does his best to ignore it altogether by breathing from his mouth while completing his bedtime routine.
Finally leaving the bathroom, Atsushi thinks it is best to go to sleep soon so he can wake up early for tomorrow’s mission. Akutagawa sits perched at the edge of the mattress with a teacup. He changed out of his bathrobe to casual joggers and a T-shirt.
Atsushi looked at him, and then away, and then at him.
“What are you standing there for?” Akutagawa says. “I ended up boiling excessive water. There is an extra cup of tea on the counter if you want.”
Atsushi can not respond, so he takes the cup and sits down beside Akutagawa leaving a comfortable space in between them. “Thanks,” he mutters genuinely touched. Perhaps he is delusional, but he does not believe Akutagawa’s excuse to be nice. He accepts the amiability with a humiliating amount of eagerness.
Akutagawa fiddles with his cup, making circles with his thumb and covering the top and warming the tips of his fingers with the steam. The silence allows for tension as it is not fully pleasant, but Atsushi would rather it not be interrupted by bickering. Akutagawa must feel the same way because his eyes were glued to his cup of tea. And while he’s engrossed with his beverage, Atsushi gathers up the courage to come closer.
Akutagawa does protest, not even when Atsushi tucks a wet lock of hair behind his ear. Akutagawa’s ears flush red.“Let’s go for a walk,” Akutagawa says suddenly.
A little dejected, Atsushi complies. It is not every day Akutagawa willingly spends time with him. He recalls Dazai telling him he should make some friends outside of the agency. Dazai heavily implied he already had one, and the only person who could fit in that category is the man in front of him. The same person he considers an enemy.
Akutagawa pulls out another one of his black coats from his suitcase. He gives a pointed look at Atsushi who is ready to leave with only his T-shirt on. “You did not pack for the breeze?”
“Nah, I can handle the cold.”
A pile of black hits his face. He unravels the fabric to reveal another one of Akutagawa’s many coats. “Geez, Akutagawa, how many more do you have in there?” he giggles as he slides into the coat.
“Shut up, Jinko,” A pause later, “only two.”
*
The outskirts of Yokohama were nothing like downtown. Buildings are shorter and wider. Roads are narrower and emptier. Stars are denser and brighter.
“How magnificent,” Akutagawa whispers behind him, “Starry nights are always repetitive but they are never boring.”
Atsushi traces the constellations with his eyes, most of them look familiar from the books he had read before, but he never took the time to memorize all their names. His eyes widened when he found the brightest star in the sky, “The North Star!” he exclaims pointing in its direction.
Akutagawa softly smiles, “I haven’t seen these many stars since I joined the Port Mafia.”
“I was never let loose after dark, in the orphanage. And I only ever lived on streets with light pollution, so it looks like we’re in the same boat.”
The moonlight is enough to illuminate the streets. In this lighting, Atsushi finds it impossible to deny Akutagawa’s beauty. This time when he stared, Akutagawa met his eye. For once, his gaze is tame. The harshness of his typical look is replaced by gentleness. His heart skips a beat, time slows down, and when Akutagawa caresses his check, he drowns for his breath is stuck in the lungs.
Somehow, someway, they find themselves just a lean away from irreversible intimacy. Akutagawa’s damp hair sways with the wind as he holds up Atsushi’s chin in between his index finger and his thumb. Warmth spreads across his body, except for where Akutgawa’s freezing hands linger. Akutagawa’s eyelashes flutter, his gaze fixated on Atsushi’s lips. And Atsushi breaks from the trance.
He lifted the hand off his face. “No…” he whispers, I don’t want us to regret this.
Akutawaga stumbles back, rejection clear on his face.
“Sorry, I forgot myself.” Akutagawa shoves his hands into his pocket, “this was a mistake, all of it. I’ll just look for another place to sleep tonight.”
Almost as if God does not wish for them to part, they are interrupted by a phone call. Akutagawa nods his head, gesturing to pick it up. He turns his back, walking away.
Atsushi caught the cuff of his coat, “Please don’t go,” he says, putting his phone screen up to the other’s face, “it’s Dazai-san, it might be important.”
He is hit with guilt for using that as an excuse to keep Akutagawa by his side, but of course, it is probably the only thing that would work. He fixates his attention on the phone, using it as an excuse to not meet the hurt eyes again.
Knowing Dazai is never the type to go out of his way to call someone, Atsushi put the phone on speaker.
“Atsushi, change of plan.” Dazai began, in a tone opposite to his earlier phone call, “We scouted the enemy’s position and it appears that he is one kilometre to your south. As we discussed before we need you to detain Lovecraft and bring him to the authorities. Be sure to take Akutagawa-kun with you.” Dazai hangs up, not allowing for any discourse.
Akutagawa doesn’t spare a second and charges in the direction Dazai specified, “Let’s go, Jinko!” he urges after Atsushi stays frozen in place. His limbs move before he could think, just following Akutagawa’s voice.
Akutagawa could easily surpass him if he propels himself to the target, as he usually does. Instead, he hoists himself with his ability to match Atsushi’s speed. Akutagawa is more like his partner than his competition tonight.
Not long after, a deathly pale cloaked figure came into view. His obligated face leaned to the side as if gravity was pulling it too hard. His eyes had multiple bags underneath them. His sluggish steps seemed to take strenuous effort.
“So sleepy…” the man rasps, “I believe the two of you are Nakajima from the Agency and Akutagawa from the Port Mafia. The Guild specialist told me I was likely to encounter you tonight.”
“Since you are so well informed, I assume you don’t need to be told you will not live to see another day,” Akutagawa sneers.
Atsushi whispers a reminder that they were not killing anyone, to which Akutagawa ignores as a second later, Lovecraft is impaled by Rashomon.
Though the blade should be directly through his heart, the man does not wince.
“It is as Nakahara-san reported. He is not human.” Akutagawa says, “I think you understand what we shall do next.”
And Atsushi does.
“Two against one is so tiring.” Lovecraft complains, “Why must Fitzgerald give me such exhausting tasks?”
“I’ll be sure to ask our old friend if I ever have the misfortune of seeing him again,” Atsushi says as he flings himself legs first to the cloaked man. Lovecraft staggers at the impact.
“You’re fast,” he states before one of his notorious green tentacles emerges to slap him. Atsushi evades it and braces himself as he kicks at the tentacle again. As easy as plucking a flower, Atsushi gets covered in the tentacle and swung away. “I was under the impression this was going to be harder,” Lovecraft yawns.
A veil of black cut through the tentacle, “Stop fooling around, Jinko!” Akutagawa bellows.
“You should stop standing back there and do something,” Atsushi retorts. He launched at Lovecraft again, squishing one tentacle only for Lovecraft to regenerate five of them in return.
Atsushi notices that Lovecraft’s torso is well protected by his multiple tentacles, but his bottom half does not have nearly as much protection. So, he sprints, head low and in a flash, he kicks at the ankles and Lovecraft knocks over. The accomplishment comes with the price of being sent backwards.
As he got back to his feet, Akutagawa sends his claw-chomping version of Rashomon and it easily tears off three tentacles at a time. But it is futile because those tentacles grew back within seconds.
Atsushi throws more punches at Lovecraft while dodging the tentacles as best as he could. When he aimed for his back, Lovecraft’s coat swayed with the wind. A sliver reflection caught his attention. Lovecraft kept a knife in his back pocket.
Akutagawa’s black blades cut away at the tentacles he could not avoid. And though no damage is made to Lovecraft, the goal is accomplished. For a fraction of a second, All of Lovecraft’s tentacles are cut off, and he is small enough to be captured.
“Jinko, it’s ready!” Akutagawa finally says.
Gathering the last of his might in this last spring, Atsushi grabs Lovecraft by the torso, the tentacles and all while he runs for dear life into a large sphere. Akutagawa created a circular container with his coat and it envelopes him and Lovecraft. He lets go of the enemy now that Akutagawa has him in his hold.
The familiar blades of Rashoumon wrap around his arms and legs and they take him out of the container. Unsurprisingly, Atsushi is let go, head first, at Akutagawa’s feet.
“Ouch, never doing that again,” Atsushi grumbles. Akutagawa rolls his eyes but before he could respond, the ball of blades trashes from side to side. “We need to take him to the police station quickly,” he says.
Akutagawa nods in agreement but is cut when a skinny green tentacle squeezes out of the ball. The tip of the tentacle glints in the light. A blade is held at the tip of the tentacle.
With one single whip, it slashes at Akutagawa. Atsushi doesn’t waste another second and tore it off while Akutagawa staggers back, concentrating on making the wall of the ball impenetrable.
Akutagawa chokes. He hunches over with pain written all over his face. “The bastard only scraped me,” he says when Atsushi runs over.
“Fuck,” Atsushi whispers. “what should we do?”
Akutagawa curls more, “Take off my coat.”
“Huh?” Though he doesn’t understand, he quickly helps Akutagawa remove his coat.
“Now trade with me,” Akutagawa instructs motioning to his coat Atsushi wore. He frowns, “I did wish it wasn’t that shredded, though.”
“Sorry,” Atsushi smiles weakly, “ I would’ve taken it off before transforming but it was far too comfy.”
Akutagawa kicks him in the chin and Atsushi fakes pain. “Just put on this coat so you carry the octopus bastard to the station.”
“Are you sure?”
“Jinko, think for a minute. Do you think I can just waltz up to the police and give them a fugitive while my face is plastered on the wanted list?”
“I wasn’t talking about that. Akutagawa, you’re spilling blood.” And indeed, Akutagawa’s black T-shirt darkens at the place the knife swung. Akutagawa pulled up the tattered coat around himself and with his ability, bandaged it around. “The bleeding will stop now. Just go to the station, Jinko.”
“Don’t move. Not until I come back to get you.”
*
With his agility, it only takes five minutes of sprinting to find the police station. It takes another 10 minutes at the police station itself, explaining the situation. The officers were lethargic and did not receive news of the capture of Lovecraft, and it took all his effort to stuff the ball Akutagawa created in a jail cell. He wasn’t even sure how to manipulate the cloak to let Lovecraft go. In the end, the ball was placed in a larger cell, and Atsushi leaves the coat there.
It was safe to say he would be broke if Akutagawa asked him to pay back for the two coats he destroyed.
At the thought of Akutagawa, his gut tightens. Oh, how he wished he could redo this whole night over. An apology was overdue, for he made the move first in their motel room, and Akutagawa was just continuing it. He was just so scared.
And then, Akutagawa was hurt. If he was just a bit more vigilant maybe then he wouldn’t have had to see Akutagawa’s face flash with pain before he concealed it as though nothing happened.
As soon as he could, he dashed over to the area where he left Akutagawa. After knowing him for this long, it came to no surprise the only remains of Akutagawa were just a trail of blood.
The trail seemed to travel to the motel. So he went there, and predictably, Akutagawa is collapsed in front of the building. His fingers gripped the ground, trying to heave himself up, when he saw Atsushi approaching, his eyebrows furrow.
“I told you to hang on till I came back,” Atsushi scolds as he pulls Akutagawa’s arms over his shoulder to hoist him to his feet.
Akutagawa grunts trying to shift his weight off of Atsushi, “I am competent enough to get myself from place to place without your help.”
“Obviously,” Atsushi answers hovering between the line of sarcasm and disbelief, “it’s easier if you just let me help. So stop being so stubborn and let me.”
“Don’t bother yourself with such a thing.”
“Just shut up until we get inside,” Atsushi huffed. Arm in arm, they climb the short staircase with much struggle. Akutagawa continues to resist his help into the room, even insisting he would be the one to unlock the door.
When they eventually get to their room, the boys collapse on their bed. In between a pant, Akutagawa and Atsushi share a glance, their smiles slip off their faces and they look away.
“You’re never weak to me, by the way,” Atsushi whispers after a moment, Akutagawa flinches, who is stomach down on the bed. Atsushi sits up, looking at him expectantly. “Especially not when you’re wounded,” he finishes.
“You misunderstand. I don’t need your consolation.”
Atsushi frowns but the expression turns to disgust. “Bro, you’re getting blood all over the sheets,” he cries at the pool of red under Akutagawa. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”
He puts the toilet cap down and helps Akutagawa sit there, thankfully without any complaints from the injured man. He also took out the bandages Dazai gifted him and reenters the bathroom. Akutagawa is still on the toilet, leaning against the counter. Sweat pools where his head lay, his breathing is shallow.
Atsushi ruffles Akutagwa’s hair, still moist from the shower or sweat he doesn’t know “Don’t tell me you need me to undress you.” he teases, “You gotta shower before we bandage the wound.”
He glances at the drying coat on the towel hook. He sighs, understanding the problem remembering Akutagawa's showering habits. Akutagawa does not shower without his coat. And he could not wear his coat because it could infect the wound.
Looking for another option, Atsushi goes through a cabinet and discovers a clean face towel and a mini first aid kit. However, the only useful thing in there was an antiseptic and cotton.
He crouches down and meets Akutagwa’s drained eyes, fighting the urge to clasp hands. Instead, he awkwardly laid a hand on Akutgawa’s knees. “Can you trust me for a bit,” he asked, the question stumbled out of his mouth. It is far too intimate of a question, he wouldn’t even blame Akutagawa if he kills him right then and there.
“Are you implying I should be skeptical,” Akutagawa scoffs, unaffected by the question. He unravels Rashomon off the wound and slips off his torn coat. “I have been putting my trust in your abilities since the day I learnt your name,” he finished.
“You know my name?”
“Shut up, Jinko.”
“On that topic, I know it’s an extra syllable and everything, but you could just call me Nakajima,” he paused, “or Atsushi.”
Akutagawa looks away. Atsushi sighs again and helps him out of his shirt when it gets too painful for Akutagawa to do by himself.
The epicentre of the wound is gruesome. Maroon blood is dried around the gash. Atsushi wonders how Akutagawa was able to walk at all with the deepness of the wound. Thankfully, The bleeding was more or less halted thanks to Akutagawa’s crafty use of his ability.
Atsushi’s gaze wanders to the years of trauma imprinted on the pale skin. White scars and dark scars sprinkled all over the skin. He could even swear the circular scars had to be from a bullet. The petit figure hunches over, covering his skin from scrutiny. Atsushi mutters an apology for staring and dabs away the blood with the damp cloth. Akutagawa looks away and is not as tense as before.
Atsushi’s hands are trembling, afraid of the situation. It is hard to discern what he is truly frightened by. It could be his nemesis, but that was the least likely possibility. It could be he is afraid of hurting his nemesis, which is hard to admit. It could be he is afraid of himself and his tender feelings towards the man. After all, it isn’t supposed to be like this. His eyes should not linger, their touch should not feel so welcoming, but it does. And it’s petrifying.
When he switched over to the antiseptic, his hands continued to shake visibly. Without a word, Akutagawa reaches over to take the bottle. He pours the liquid on a cotton ball and hands it back to Atsushi.
Atsushi smiles gratefully. “Are you ready for the sting?”
“I’m ready to get this over with. No one enjoys using hydrogen peroxide.”
Keeping in mind the horrible sensation, Atsushi finalizes the clean-up. He watches Akutagawa’s reaction and the guy does not even wince.
“Akutagawa, I wanted to say sorry,” he starts while beginning to wrap the bandage.
“No, don’t.”
Please, let me. I— I don’t know. I, just—” The words are impossible to find.
“I mean it, I don’t need an apology. I believe I understand. It’s pathetic if you ask me, though.” Akutagawa says honestly. “I should apologize as well. I was too quick to leave the mission like that. I will work harder to not be as weak.”
Atsushi shakes his head. It wasn’t Akutagawa who needed to grow stronger, it was him. He can’t even face his own emotions, can’t put them into words. He purses his lips and avoids saying anything more on the subject. He completes wrapping the bandage and leaves Akutagawa to get dressed.
Atsushi tries not to wallow in self-pity. He blocks out the voice in his head that shouted demeaning words at himself. The sight of the stained bed reminds Atsushi to change the bedding, glad he has a distraction before his inevitable negative inner monologue continues. He switches Akutagawa’s with the one he reserved for himself. The carpet will suffice for him. It wasn’t too cold to die without a blanket either.
Akutagawa comes back to the room with a new pair of clothes identical to the ones he was wearing before. He looks at the boy curled on the ground ready to sleep, to the vacant bed and back.
“Jinko,” Akutagawa startles him, “you look pathetic sleeping there.”
“Gee thanks,” he mumbles back.
“You take the bed. I can sleep on the floor.”
“Nah, I couldn’t. You’re injured so you need it more than me.”
There is a pause, “The bed is large and I don’t toss. If you are comfortable, I suppose we can share.”
He assumes he must’ve heard that wrong, but Akutagawa continues to look at him expectantly.
He hesitates, “No, I don’t mind sharing with you it’s just—”
“Good.”
He is strangled by the blades of Rashomon and thrown on the bed.
“I would rather not hear you complain about a sore neck in the morning,” Akutagawa explains, closing the lights. He opens the window, letting in the light of the night sky into the room.
The look on Akutagawa was to die for. His brows were relaxed and he wore a soft smile. Atsushi snuggles up under the covers, glad he took the offer for the bed.
Priding himself as a detective for the Agency, Atsushi deduced Akutagawa probably cared for him.
It was a trivial discovery and only Atsushi took this long to learn it. To him, it feels impossible. He also lets him admit to himself, he cares about Akutagawa back. Whatever care meant. It was undeniable, the care they mutually had for each other.
“Akutagawa,” he says, staring at the back.
“What do you want now?”
“Do you consider us allies?” he asks knowing damn well he meant something heavier than the word ally.
“No.” was the curt reply.
“Are we enemies?”
Akutagawa turns over to face him. Their eyes widen, surprised at how close their faces were. The moonlight is just enough to see Akutagawa’s pondering face. The answer takes a moment to leave his lips, “No, I don’t suppose we are.”
Atsushi grins. “Yeah, I guess we aren’t.” he says. If circumstances were different, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to admit. Perhaps he could never accept the differences between them. Akutagawa sought to kill his enemies while he wished to mend bonds. But maybe, he could accept their similarities. And just for one day, accept his emotions for he loved the boy staring back at him.
Atsushi rolls over, his back facing Akutagawa. He gathers the courage to say, “Good night, Ryunosuke.”
The names feel intoxicating to say, an intimacy that will never bore. An intimacy he wants to hold on to.
A light punch landed on his back, “I swear I’ll kill you one day, Atsushi Nakajima.”