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They were drenched with rain.
Atsushi and Akutagawa had just been returning from a job that they had been assigned to, much to their dismay. They were meant to have walked separate paths back to their respective workplaces- but it turned out that Atsushi’s workplace was just ahead of Akutagawa’s workplace, and passing the Port Mafia headquarters was the fastest way to get there.
None of them had anticipated the rain, though. They were standing there, in the rain, clothes soaking as the atmosphere around them greyed with a dull tone of bleak blue. Akutagawa sent Atsushi a glare; though their six-month promise was far from over, Akutagawa and Atsushi still weren't on the best of terms.
“Why are you glaring at me? It’s not like I asked for the rain.”
“If you had just gone your own way back to your pathetic agency, we wouldn't be here right now.”
“You really can't think of an excuse, can you?”
“Shut up, Jinko. You're not helping the rain cease.”
“You're not, either! What kind of hypocritical bullshittery is this?”
“Unless the next words you utter out that mouth of yours is your dying wish, I suggest you stop talking immediately.”
“Fine.” Atsushi rolled his eyes. “I get it.” They stood there silently in the rain for a while, Atsushi shivering from the lack of layers on himself at that moment. It wouldn't seem to cease anytime soon; Atsushi knew he should have gotten going, but something willed him to stay.
“...Why aren't you going home?”
“I should be asking the same thing, Jinko.”
“I'm waiting for the rain to stop.”
“You're in the rain.”
“So are you!”
“You're shivering, too. You're too loud.”
“Too loud?! I'll be as loud as I want! I'm shivering over here, dumbass! Unless you can make me- I don't know, not cold - then I suggest you shut up , Akutagawa-”
Akutagawa rolled his eyes, before shrugging off his jacket and placing it over Atsushi’s head. “There. Now shut up, Jinko. I don't want to hear you whining.”
There Atsushi stood, with Akutagawa’s cloak draped over his shoulders, whilst Akutagawa was bathed in a halo of white, his blouse a stark contrast against the dreary grey skies. He almost looked ethereal underneath the unfortunate lighting, with his parted lips and his piercing grey stare. His inky black locks framed his face, the tips fading to a white as his once fluffy hair was now drenched from the rain. Atsushi let his eyes run over his figure, from the white blouse hugging his slim waist to the sleek black pants he had on underneath. Unconsciously, the first colour that returned to the murky environment was pink.
A bright shade of pink.
Akutagawa turned to face Atsushi as he snapped out of his daze, but not before stealing a glance at his steel gaze, his grey irises like marble as they slid over to Atsushi’s view.
“What are you looking at, Jinko?”
Atsushi internally felt his body shut down on him as his brain decided to malfunction at the one moment he needed it most.
Great.
Amazing, truly amazing.
“Uh-” he sputtered out, avoiding Akutagawa's gaze as he tried to think of an excuse. Usually, he was quick and witty; that facade was soon proven to be false judging by this scenario now, with his brain a mess and his emotions fusing into a blur. His eyes darted around, trying to come up with something, anything to excuse the fact that he was definitely not looking at Akutagawa’s figure and admiring the way his clothes folded around him, his facial features that were perfectly sculpted into his head, and his hair that somehow looked perfect, even with the rain falling down around them.
“Want to dance?” he asked, feeling taken aback at what he had said before. How much of a death wish did he truly have? Akutagawa was going to look at him with a disgusted expression on his face, then answer a cold, stern no with a look of confusion, before snatching the coat off of Atsushi, and promptly leaving; leaving Atsushi to stand in the rain, alone and shivering.
As dumb as Atsushi knew he was at times, he knew there would be no way to retract that question. He still held a sliver of hope that somehow, Akutagawa would agree to the prospect of dancing with Atsushi. That somehow, Atsushi asking was enough to persuade the mafioso to dance.
“Jinko, are you out of your mind?”
“Maybe.”
Akutagawa scoffed. He crossed his arms over each other, before averting Atsushi’s gaze. Atsushi swore he saw another colour appear whilst he was turning his head to the side. Embarrassment: that must have been where the newfound colour came from. That was all there was to it. There was not a chance that Akutagawa was actually flustered from Atsushi’s absurd request; flustered was not something found in the mafioso’s dictionary.
“…Are you joking?”
Atsushi was about to laugh it off and say yes out of fear when he suddenly hesitated in his words. Why was he hesitating so suddenly like this? It wasn’t like Akutagawa liked him or anything; in fact, he would be surprised if Akutagawa showed him any sort of nice behaviour. That wasn’t him. The look that Akutagawa gave him as he asked the question somehow deluded Atsushi into thinking that he was serious about that question.
Akutagawa joking was another level of creepiness that Atsushi was not ready to face.
But, despite the question, it made Atsushi stop in his tracks. Was he? He had asked the question hastily, but as they stood there, the rain falling upon their shoulders, something deceived him into thinking that he had asked the question seriously, and not as a joke. The stuttering heart ringing loudly in his ears and the choked-up response in his throat didn’t help. All these mixed emotions churned in his stomach like a witch stirring their newest concoction in a cauldron, with not even a slightest clue of how to distinguish one from the other.
Atsushi stood there silently, contemplating his answer. Was he? If he was, wouldn’t have he said yes straight away? Then, what was stopping him?
(He knew what was stopping him; admitting it out loud, however, was a newfound fear that had quickly piled onto the list of things that he would never want to ever face again.)
“...To be quite honest, I don’t know.” he admitted, eyes downcast to the ground as the coat trembled slightly in his fingers that were clasped around the black material.
“I should have known. You don’t ever know anything .” Akutagawa retorted; an edge of venom laced in his words as Atsushi felt Rashoumon tighten around his fingers. He laughed, though the tone was hollow and empty, a cold smile gracing his lips. “It was truly foolish of me to ever think that someone like you would ever have anything together. You couldn’t even answer a simple question.”
“I’m sorry for not knowing anything! And to be quite frank, you don’t know everything either!”
“I never said I knew everything, Jinko. You can’t listen either, it seems. I might as well-”
“Wait!” Atsushi said, as Akutagawa was about to snatch his coat off Atsushi’s back. “...I was.”
“Was?”
“I was… serious. About the entire- the entire dance thing.”
Akutagawa slowly calmed down, his gaze less malicious than before. His angry expression settled into a neutral - almost content - expression as his shoulders visibly relaxed. Though doused from the rain, he still managed to look as ethereal as ever, as raindrops slid down his face, over his slim palms, down his white blouse and over his sleek black boots to the ground.
“...So, you wish to dance with me.”
“Yes, Akutagawa. I… want to dance with you.”
Akutagawa sighed, though Atsushi saw the corners of his lips slightly upturned.
Did he… did he want to dance with Atsushi? No, of course he didn't; the man vowed to slay Atsushi’s guts every other day. But seeing him now, so vulnerable in the cold, harsh rain as it showed no signs of stopping- it put those doubts to a stop, even if it was only temporarily.
Akutagawa’s gaze flickered back to Atsushi, before he held out a hand to him. The rain slicked his palms and rendered his hands wet, his clothes clinging onto his skin as water seeped through his blouse. Even in this unfortunate environment, he still managed to look put together, with a touch of water.
“Then, Jinko,” he whispered quietly, softly, his voice almost washed away by the pitter-patter of the raindrops. Atsushi had to incline his head towards the mafioso to get a gist of what he was even saying.
“Let us dance.”
Atsushi stared at his out turned palm incredulously. What- what was he meant to do with his hand? Would he even feel nice against Atsushi? The man rarely used his hand for anything else but killing. If he pressed the pads of his fingers against the soft palm of Akutagawa’s hand for long enough, would he eventually be able to feel all the crevices of his past? The blood of others that had been deeply engraved into his hand from the number of lives he had taken?
He wouldn't know until he found out.
Gingerly, Atsushi reached his hand out, and softly pressed his fingers against his palm, before sliding his hand around the back of his hand and holding it tightly, as if it was their last time they would ever touch. As soon as they made contact, Akutagawa pulled Atsushi towards his chest, making sure to keep a fair distance as his other hand was placed on the small of Atsushi’s back.
Atsushi flushed up at the contact, though Akutagawa seemed nonchalant at the prospect of them being so… intimate like this, despite the fact that there was a fair amount of space between them. Slowly, Akutagawa began to move, whilst Atsushi was rooted to the spot, still taking in the fact that he was dancing with Akutagawa; yes, dancing , not fighting. It was surprising for him as well.
“Jinko, if you want to dance, you have to move. Is that not common sense?”
“S-sorry…” Atsushi stammered out. “Just… things on my mind.”
You in my mind, more like.
They began to move together, but with there being no beat, there was nothing to guide their tempo. Still, Akutagawa treated it like a slow ballroom dance, with hands intertwined and long, slow looks at the other, Akutagawa's coat still wrapped around Atsushi as the other looked up at him nervously. His body was jittering nervously as they moved throughout the park that they now claimed as theirs.
“Can you not dance, Jinko?” Akutagawa murmured, to which Atsushi flushed at the comment. Had his inexperience been that obvious? He had never danced with someone like this before; sure, he had participated with that challenge that Dazai had forced him into, but this was different.
He was different.
“It’s not my fault! I… I’ve never danced, well- danced like this before. Have you?”
“Yes. I often did it with my sister when we were younger.”
“Oh…?”
“Do you want me to teach you how to dance, Jinko? Is that it… Nakajima?”
Atsushi closed his eyes out of embarrassment, red colouring his cheeks as he gulped and looked away at once. Why had Akutagawa said his name ? And even worse; how had he managed to say it with such elegance? Each syllable that rolled off his tongue sounded smooth like honey; needless to say, Atsushi was enchanted.
“Would you laugh if… I said yes?” Atsushi admitted, his voice small and feeble like a mouse. He dared not look back up into Akutagawa’s gaze - he felt as if he would only be met with a laugh - but the mafioso was silent and still underneath his hands. Slowly, his eyes trailed up Akutagawa’s body until they reached his gaze. His gaze was neutral; Atsushi searched for any signs of pity, any signs of amusement, but was left with none in his hands.
The corners of his mouth turned upwards.
“Then, Nakajima, let me teach you how to waltz.”
The mere sentence sent shivers down Atsushi’s back; was he dreaming? The sensation of cold raindrops pouring over Akutagawa’s jacket and sliding down his neck said otherwise. Ever so gently, Akutagawa intertwined his fingers with Atsushi’s, the contact of his hand oddly comforting in Atsushi’s own. Akutagawa pulled Atsushi closer by the waist, hand resting just above the small of Atsushi’s back.
Somehow, his touch felt gentle, as if he was cocooning a newborn baby. Atsushi let himself relax; he felt no aura of malice radiating from the individual in front of him. Slowly, they moved through the rain, Atsushi letting his legs lead the way. He didn’t trust his head, as he felt it would meddle with the rest of his body.
“Getting there,” Akutagawa murmured once more as Atsushi almost tripped over his own shoes for the umpteenth time. “Still disastrous as ever, Jinko.”
“Can you stop switching from my name to ‘Jinko’?!” Atsushi exclaimed, exasperated.
“Would you like a hybrid then?”
“...Never mind.”
“That’s what I thought, Nakajima.”
Slowly, Atsushi grew accustomed to the tempo that they slowly rocked to, steps light and careful as they slowly turned through the rain. “How are you so good at dancing?” Atsushi whispered, breaking the silence within the rain as Akutagawa smirked, pulling him down into a dip before pulling Atsushi up against his chest.
“Practice makes perfect, Nakajima.” Akutagawa whispered huskily. “It seems you still have much to learn.”
To outsiders, they probably seemed like they were on the brink of insanity, dancing so slowly in the rain and so tenderly, in each other’s arms as if it would be the last dance of their lives, the last fire to ever be ignited in their souls as the other withered away. To be honest, it truly felt like it. Never had Atsushi gone a day without thinking that there would ever be a scenario in which they would end up in each other’s arms so securely, dancing to the music that the rain provided as a replacement for the slow, organic music that entangled within the two’s minds at that very moment.
Atsushi’s heartbeats chimed in tune with the idyllic pattering of the rain.
Pitter.
Patter.
Pitter.
Patter.
Slow and steady, was the way he would describe their dancing. Internally, Atsushi was a mess. He had no idea in the slightest what he was doing; he had never danced with someone who had made his heart roar to life with a blazing flame. But, as he unconsciously stepped closer to Akutagawa with each move, he found his body curving perfectly with each dip, arching at angles considered impossible for most as they danced as if they were trying to avoid the rain, twisting and turning in tune with their own steps and heartbeats.
“You feel it too, don't you?” Atsushi was the first to break the silence, as his body had visibly relaxed from the initial touch from Akutagawa. How had he relaxed so easily underneath Akutagawa's touch? Then again, he could tell that he truly had no intentions of malice from the gentle grasp that he had put on Atsushi. Still, Atsushi couldn't help but internally slap himself for being able to relax so visibly underneath Akutagawa’s touch.
Was he truly that done for?
“Feel what, Jinko?”
“The burning in your heart.” he replied confidently, hoping, praying that by some small morsel of a chance, Akutagawa could feel the intensity of the moment as much as Atsushi could. If he merely saw this as a simple dance… well, Atsushi would consider himself done for.
“Burning…? I would say it is more like a slow melt.”
“A slow melt…?”
“Yes, Jinko. Do I need to repeat myself twice? When the heart… it feels gentle underneath the other person. Such as a dewdrop does, it is fragile and fleeting. The only similarity is that it always forms at a particular time in the morning, and as such, the heart follows suit.”
Atsushi was taken aback for the umpteenth time by Akutagawa's words. How was a mass murderer so… poetic ? Atsushi felt ashamed of his own vocabulary. He needed to read through the dictionary more often.
“I never took you for someone poetic.”
“Poetic?” Akutagawa scoffed, pulling Atsushi closer so that he was flat against the other’s chest, before leaning down to his ear. Atsushi could feel his hot breath, as his lips gently brushed against Atsushi’s ear. “ Hardly .”
Was it right to be feeling this way at this moment? To have your heart loudly thudding against your chest, to yearn for more? Akutagawa was his enemy. They weren’t- they weren’t meant to touch like this. Was it illegal , though? Was it simply unacceptable to stare at the other’s glistening lips, to wonder how soft they would feel against Atsushi’s rough, blistered own-
His fantasies were amplified when Akutagawa suddenly leaned in, his forehead gently pressed against the other’s. A wild red flush scattered over his face, as he suddenly realised the sheer proximity of Akutagawa’s face.
Was he allowed to feel so entranced by his mere gaze?
“A-Akutagawa-” Atsushi stammered out, but was interrupted by the quietest of whispers. It was the most vulnerable he had ever seen the mafioso be; his eyes were glittering with a shine of doubt, his lip slightly trembling as his voice was hoarse from the rain pouring down on them. His hand was still tightly interlaced into Atsushi’s - in fact, Atsushi noticed that his grip had tightened - as he briefly wondered if Akutagawa could hear Atsushi’s loud, stuttering heartbeat against his own chest.
“ Do I deserve this, Nakajima? ” he whispered, his voice barely audible as it cracked from the amount of emotion that he held so sternly in his throat. “ To be lathered with such devotion? ”
“W-What do you mean?”
Akutagawa leaned in even closer , so that a slight lean and their lips would connect. Atsushi should have felt uncomfortable from Akutagawa's sheer proximity; strangely enough, he found the close contact comforting. His hot breath fanned Atsushi’s face, and he briefly wondered whether anyone else had ever been this close with Akutagawa before Atsushi had. Sure, he had been treated extremely horribly in the past; but Atsushi had a slight hunch that there was more to the way that Akutagawa acted than met the eye.
The only question left waiting for Atsushi to answer was: Are you ready for what lies ahead?
To be quite frank, he had no clue. Was Akutagawa treated as harshly as Atsushi was in the orphanage? There had to be some reason why he acted the way he did, and Atsushi was damned if there was only a simple reason behind his actions. Akutagawa was complicated, brutal, but he was honest.
The rain wet his lips as it slid down his hair. Atsushi swore that raindrops weren't meant to taste salty.
“ You,” Akutagawa whispered quietly. “Why do you do this to me, Jinko?”
“I don't- I don't do anything-”
He was interrupted by the sensation of Akutagawa's lips gently pressed against his own; desperation and a need to be accepted could be tasted through the cracks of his blistered lips, bleeding red as Atsushi stood there, stunned from the softness. For someone so violent, his lips were oddly gentle to the touch. Slowly, slowly, Atsushi’s free hand made its way over to Akutagawa's cheek, cupping it gently as he felt the droplets slide over his calloused hands and onto the floor beneath them. He returned the kiss, gently stroking Akutagawa’s cheek with his thumb. His wishes, aspirations, his wants seeped into his skin like the rainfall as they tenderly held each other in the rain.
Atsushi savoured the moment; after all, there was a possibility this would never happen again. He kissed Akutagawa as if it would be his last, hoping that his fervent passion would trickle into Akutagawa's body, that it would be able to be tasted from the mere contact of their lips. Each crevice of their lips moulded into the other, slotting together like puzzle pieces. Yin was not complete without the presence of Yang.
Slowly, hesitantly, they pulled away, allowing room to breathe. Atsushi’s hand was still cupped on Akutagawa's cheek, to which he quickly tried to pull away; but Akutagawa took ahold of his wrist and placed it back on his cheek.
“...Your touch is… nice.” Akutagawa admitted, embarrassed as Atsushi’s own face heated up.
“Nice?” he repeated, surprised at the choice of words. Never had anyone said Atsushi’s touch was nice . All his life he had been ridiculed for his hands, his face and his eyes; so to hear that someone yearned for his touch in the same way that he, too, yearned for theirs- it was simply baffling.
“Yes, Nakajima. Nice. Need I repeat myself?”
“No, it's just… no one's ever said that about my touch… about me in general.”
“Are you serious about that?”
“Why wouldn't I…?”
“It's comforting.”
“Rich coming from you.”
“Rich? How so?”
“You say that as if your touch didn't feel nice either.”
“...Did it?”
“...It did.”
The rain was ceasing to a stop, as the brightness of the sun peeked from behind the clouds. Atsushi realised that he was still wearing Akutagawa's coat, and hastily took it off to hand to him.
“Ah, yeah. Thanks… for the coat. Though, I am definitely sure you will get sick.” Atsushi said, handing back the coat to Akutagawa. Akutagawa hesitantly took it out of Atsushi’s hands, slipping it back on around him.
“Aren’t you going to get sick, too?”
Atsushi was stunned at that question. Never would he have expected Akutagawa to be the one concerned for his well being. He smiled it off. He didn’t want Akutagawa worrying about someone like him. “Don’t worry. Besides, I like the rain.”
Akutagawa scoffed, before mumbling something. Atsushi looked back, curiosity etched into his gaze.
“What was that?”
“...Let me… take you back.”
Atsushi blinked once, then twice. “W-Wait, what?!” he stammered out, his cheeks flushing up. He was definitely getting sicker by the moment. “Are you still Akutagawa?”
Akutagawa frowned, his face scrunching up into a confused expression. “Yes…? Would you prefer it if we went our separate ways, then-”
“No! I didn’t say that… I’m just- a little surprised, you could say.”
Akutagawa nodded, before he escorted Atsushi back to the Agency. For once, as the sun shone above their heads, Atsushi felt like living might have been worth it after all.
-
“Why… didn’t you tell me?”
Rain was prevalent as Atsushi stared down, skin ghostly pale as his eyes watered with his own waterfall. Tears lacquered his eyes as he couldn’t help the tears falling from his cheeks, falling onto Akutagawa’s face as his body shook with an uncontrollable despair. Reality was hitting him too fast, he wanted to preserve this moment just a second longer-
But reality was soul-crushing, it was cruel, and it never adhered to his fantasies. The moonlight bathed Akutagawa in a solemn blue glow, the carmine fluid glinting as he saw it spread all over his body, too much red, too much blood, too much death .
“I wished… not to hurt you.”
“Not to hurt me?! But here we are anyway!” Atsushi cried, struggling to breathe.The rain grew heavier, pelting on his back like bullets from a gun. He leaned over the mafioso, his grey eyes barely alive in the state he was in. Blood dribbled from his mouth, but Atsushi didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care about how unhygienic he was as he messily brought his lips against Akutagawa’s, the rain forming some sort of melodic pattern as he tasted blood, he tasted the saltiness of his own tears, he tasted him for the last time.
“...At least fight me, Akutagawa. Prove to me that you’re still alive . After all… that’s what you wanted to do, right? You wanted to kill me. So why aren’t you ?!” Atsushi screamed, but the rain drowned out his pleas. How dare Akutagawa go and sacrifice himself for someone that wasn’t even equal to his worth?!
Akutagawa smiled, to which Atsushi stifled a gulp.
“I don’t want to fight you… anymore… Atsushi.”
“Why? Stand up! Please! Just stand up, please…” Atsushi whispered, pain prevalent through the cracks of his voice as his fingers ran through his inky locks, his head settled on Akutagawa’s chest. “Fight me, Akutagawa. Fight me, fight me for fuck’s sake!”
“I can’t.”
“Don’t you want to live ?!”
“And… what good… would come of that?”
“Don’t you realise that people care ? People care about you, Akutagawa, so please-”
“I was… going to die… soon. I… have a lung… disease.” Akutagawa said, weakly placing his hand on top of Atsushi’s own, which was clenching his shirt tightly. “Please, Atsushi. Stop trying.”
“Why?”
“Let… me go… in peace. You fool…”
“You’re dying, idiot. You’re dying ! Do you not realise?”
“I… realised that… a long time ago.”
It hurt to kiss Akutagawa with such desperation; it hurt to know that this would be the last time Akutagawa would ever return his kisses. Atsushi knew what pain was - he had experienced it all throughout his childhood and during his fights with others - but no one had ever warned him about the worst type of pain. The type of pain that would never go away no matter what ability was used, no matter what method was used to heal.
The emotional pain.
No one had ever told him how it would gnaw him up from inside, frantically clinging onto every part of his flesh and would cause him to feel numb, to touch everything with no sense of emotion. No one ever bothered to warn him how love hurt; how when the other was in danger, the heart ached so with a need to help, with a need to draw their pain away from the other’s presence. No one had… until he had found out himself.
Oh, how his body trembled with a need to be embraced.
Sloppily, their lips crashed against the other’s; again and again, in a fit of desperation, in the hopes that somehow, their lips would respond to the other’s as needily as the other wanted. Atsushi was crying and shaking fiercely, and all he could taste was red, red, red , but he didn’t care.
He stopped caring about anything when the despair set on him that he wouldn’t be able to save Akutagawa this time.
“Akutagawa,” he rasped in between kisses, “did you plan for this to happen? Did you plan to leave me like this?”
“I wasn’t going to live long… Nakajima.”
“So?! What if you weren’t?! Why didn’t- why didn’t you say something ?!”
“I would be looked down upon like a useless dog.”
“Do you really think your fighting worth is all that matters?! After s-six months… even with that promise… you still see yourself as a wretched dog . Is that how it’s always been, Akutagawa?”
“I was going to die sooner or later.”
“ Did you only fucking see yourself as a weapon?! ”
“So what if I was a weapon?”
“Then what are we? Did you also just see me as a discardable tool for your own pleasures?!”
“No.”
“ Then tell me , Akutagawa; what are we?! ”
“...We were partners.”
“We are partners. You’re not- you’re not dying on me. I can’t… I can’t have another person die for me.”
“...Why are you trying?”
“ Why aren’t you?! ” Atsushi cried, clenching Akutagawa’s shirt desperately. “ Stop fucking worrying about your death and please just understand me for once! God… you don’t even know what you do to me. Fucking hell, Akutagawa; stop giving up and try for once!” Tears streamed down his eyes; he knew he was a hot mess with his lip trembling with fear, his breathing erratic, hair dishevelled and his knuckles a stark white in comparison to his skin.
“Do… you remember our dance…?” Akutagawa said, Atsushi staring at him incredulously. Why would he bring up such a thing at this time?
“Of course. But-”
“...The rain… it feels the same.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Let… let us dance. Once more…”
“But you can’t-”
“Shut… up… Jinko…” Akutagawa coughed, his mouth bubbling with blood. “We shall dance… one last time.”
Atsushi had no clue how Akutagawa was going to stand up in this weather, especially with the state he was in. The enemy had fled after slashing Akutagawa’s neck - saying that they had ought to drown together on this ship - and Atsushi wished more than ever that he could transfer his regeneration powers over to the mafioso lying beneath him.
Gently, Atsushi sat Akutagawa up, and interlaced their fingers, Atsushi kneeling as he placed his hand on the small of Akutagawa’s back.
“What was the song you were even dancing to…?”
Atsushi’s eyes widened. He had heard that song before, but never had he thought that Akutagawa would be into such a tender song such as that. Slowly, he sang out the lyrics as the rain pelted down onto the two men.
“ Grapefruit moon, one star shining, shining down on me... ”
His voice wavered as Akutagawa closed his eyes, slightly swaying to the melody. Atsushi pulled Akutagawa closer to him, and the blood pooled all over his white shirt; he couldn’t care less.
“ Heard that tune, and now I’m pining… Honey, can’t you see? ”
He inhaled the mixed scents of ocean rain, tangy blood, and salty tears, as their hearts beat as one. Slowly, slowly, they swayed around, moonlight bathing them in a solemn blue glow. Blue meant calm; oh, how Atsushi was anything but calm. He gulped as he sang the next lyric.
“ ‘Cause every time I hear that melody, well, something breaks inside… ”
He wished he was Yosano, who could easily heal on the brink of death, or be able to share regeneration powers from his own ability. Unfortunately, the circumstances did not allow any of those things to happen. So, he let himself absorb in the moment, draw in and trace every crevice of Akutagawa’s palm, and closed his eyes as he mustered out the last lyric he could force himself to sing.
“ And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, is more than I can hide...”
Atsushi could see Akutagawa’s eyes slightly dimming. Pulling him in for a last, tender kiss, he cupped the mafioso’s cheeks gently. He could feel Akutagawa’s last attempt to reciprocate, though he knew his attempt was slowly diminishing. Atsushi wasn’t forceful, though he never wanted the moment to pass. He memorised each crevice of his lips, the texture of his skin, the taste of him . He memorised until he physically couldn’t anymore, and slowly pulled away.
“Is… is this goodbye?”
“...Do you wish for it to be goodbye?”
“No.” Of course not. Goodbye means accepting that they’re unsaveable, goodbye means accepting that they won’t ever come back no matter what you do.
“Then, Atsushi... it will not be a goodbye.”
“Akuta-”
“Ryuunosuke. Please… say my name. One last time.”
“...Ryuunosuke. Then, Ryuunosuke, what will it be?”
“See you later, Atsushi.”
“What?”
Atsushi can see that Akutagawa was struggling to keep his eyes open, fluttering ever so slightly as his chest barely moved with the motion of breathing. Silence ensued, before Akutagawa opened his mouth, smiling.
Why would he smile at such a moment?
“It was nice… being with you, Jinko. See… you later.” Akutagawa smiled, using the remainder of his strength to cup Atsushi’s cheeks for the final time.
Atsushi’s breath hitched, as he choked on his sobs. The rain framed his face ever so perfectly, as the fragile hold of Atsushi’s cheeks slowly diminished, his hand sliding down back to the ground. The shine he once held in his eyes slipped away, as his life withered away alongside it.
The nickname he had once despised was now the thing he wanted to be called most. He closed his eyes solemnly, looking up to the dark night sky, dotted with stars.
He swore he could see Akutagawa lingering amongst them, his eyes closed as he basked in the cold raindrops slipping down his face, gently looking up to the moon.
Atsushi smiled.
He was truly a star in the rain.