Archive of Our Own

In the very first life he remembers, Akutagawa is a college student and Atsushi is a barista at the coffee shop just off campus where Akutagawa is quietly stressing over finals. 

He’s slumped over piles upon piles of textbooks, sprawled out in a mess of numbers and letters and symbols over a table in the back corner that he has claimed for the past four hours. It’s hard to focus, especially when he’s functioning exclusively off of caffeine and no more than three hours of sleep. The lines are blurring and Akutagawa swears the words are falling off the page.

So who can blame him when he– very much accidentally– whacks the barista who gives him a hesitant, featherlight tap on his shoulder to check if he’s awake?

His brain registers it a second too late. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he mutters hastily, body shooting upright and glancing at the barista who is rubbing faintly at his lower arm. “I did not intend to… punch you.”

To his surprise, Akutagawa hears a laugh. It’s lighthearted and fleeting but he hears it nonetheless and it’s like a wake-up call, successfully pulling him back to the comforting ambience of the cafe. Akutagawa looks up. A terrible decision, really, because he meets a pair of striking purple-yellow eyes, sparkling in amusement and understanding, that stuns him into a temporary shock. 

That’s odd.

He hardly realizes the fact that he’s staring until the barista brushes a loose strand of silver hair behind his ears.

“It’s alright, I know how stressful this time of the year can get,” the barista responds, eyes curving into little crescents. “You’ve been here for a while so I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” Akutagawa waves a hand at the overwhelming mess of paper in front of him, then adds, “As fine as I can be, at least.”

The barista raises an eyebrow in skepticism. “Are you sure? Could I get you something to eat? I don’t think I saw you have lunch.”

He noticed me? Akutagawa stares back blankly.

The barista’s attention is still on him, peculiar eyes observing him with slight concern. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice tells him that he must look like absolute shit from all the mental drainage, but Akutagawa can’t bring himself to care. 

“Uh,” he squints at the menu. “A sandwich would be nice,” is what his mouth decides to blurt out, and it’s weird because he knows he never eats while studying– it distracts him– but there’s something about saying no to the barista that makes his chest clench.

The barista nods at him. “Do you have a preference?” 

Akutagawa panics a little internally because he can’t actually see anything on the menu from where he’s sitting, and he’s never actually had food at the cafe before. “You can choose for me. I’m okay with anything,” he responds instead, offering his most convincing, tireless smile.

“Got it,” the barista affirms, returning his smile. “I’m Atsushi, you can call me if you need anything else.”

Atsushi.

Akutagawa stores the name away for future reference.

Just in case, he tells himself.

—

As it turns out, knowing the name of the barista does become useful.

Akutagawa finds himself frequenting the coffee shop more and more after that, for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint. He thinks it’s the coffee, perhaps even the food, but every other coffee shop he goes to after that just feels like it’s missing something.

It’s cozy and quaint, not the closest to his dorm but close enough to access if he stays up an hour too late the night prior, and the more he goes, the more he realizes that Atsushi is there a lot. As long as it’s not the hellish hours of the morning or far too late into the night, the silver-haired, choppy banged barista is there, smiling at the customers animatedly. 

And those eyes are still so, so strange.

But what surprises Akutagawa the most isn’t Atsushi’s seemingly absurd work schedule, but the fact that Atsushi remembers him, greeting him by his name each time after Akutagawa’s second visit when the barista notes his name down with his order.

“Akutagawa-san! Welcome back,” Atsushi greets, stopping his sweeping to wave at him as he walks through the door. “Give me a second, I’ll be right with you.”

He watches as Atsushi perches the broom up against a wall and rushes over to the counter, tapping a few buttons on the register. “What can I get for you today?” he says, looking up at Akutagawa expectantly.

“Are you the only one working here?” Akutagawa finds himself asking, curiosity taking him over.

Atsushi glances around. “Oh, yeah I am. Tanizaki-san is on his break and we’re the only ones who work this shift.” He shrugs. “It’s not too busy though so it’s alright.”

Akutagawa nods and orders a medium americano with an extra shot of espresso.

Atsushi laughs. “Again, huh? Why not try something else?” he offers, and there’s that feeling again. The one that makes him feel like saying no will make that annoyingly bright smile disappear right off the barista’s face and Akutagawa just can’t bring himself to do it.

So he shrugs. “What would you recommend?”

Akutagawa notices the way Atsushi visibly lights up, hand under his chin as he contemplates the options. 

It’s… endearing? 

No, that can’t be it. 

“Vanilla latte,” Atsushi replies after several seconds, glancing up.

There’s a brief pause, and then… “basic,” Akutagawa says before he can stop himself. The corners of his lips twitch up in amusement at the way Atsushi elicits a playfully offended gasp. There’s no overthinking this time, he doesn’t have to overthink when he can tell that Atsushi knows it’s a joke.

Akutagawa is glad.

“Okay, Mr. Americano-that’s-dark-like-my-soul, ” Atsushi says, crossing his arms, and Akutagawa feels his smile widening. “You can’t tell me you’ve tried it before.”

“I haven’t”

“Well then you have no right to insult me and my precious lattes,” Atsushi huffs.

Akutagawa’s heart does a thing. He ignores it.

“Okay, then. If I try it today, that’ll give me the right?”

Atsushi hesitates. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

And Akutagawa just smiles in response, pulling out his card and watching Atsushi indignantly note down the order. 

The latte isn’t bad per se, just a little sweeter than Akutagawa is used to, but it's after that day that he begins to notice a shift. He’s ordering new things, sometimes recommendations from Atsushi himself (though Atsushi seems to have much more of a sweet tooth than Akutagawa) and other times just because he likes seeing Atsushi perk up at a new request. 

Chuuya notices it too. 

“Something’s different,” his roommate says, sitting on one of the high stools in their kitchen and watching Akutagawa make two servings of fried rice.

“Hm? I changed the flickering lightbulb,” Akutagawa replies passively.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the silhouette of fiery orange hair move until it’s standing right next to him by the stove. “No, something’s different about you,” Chuuya says, taking a sip of– is that wine?– and trying to get Akutagawa to meet his eyes.

He can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Chuuya laughs, loud and boisterous and teasing and Akutagawa wants to wipe that ridiculous smirk right off his face. “Oh my god, it’s a human!” he says, and Akutagawa resorts to raising an eyebrow at the older’s odd choice of words. 

“Where?”

Chuuya smiles, taking another sip of his grape juice. “In your mind, idiot. You’ve got someone you’re thinking about.”

He says it as a matter of fact, confident like there is no way in hell he could be wrong, and Akutagawa hates that he knows exactly who Chuuya is (unintentionally) referring to. 

He’s always been pretty good at reading people. 

Akutagawa really wishes he wasn’t.

Because for the next two weeks, Akutagawa feels Chuuya observing him like a hawk observing its prey, watchful eyes waiting for the moment that he finally cracks and admits to both Chuuya and himself that he–  unemotional, unsmiling, unapproachable Akutagawa Ryuunosuke– may or may not be catching feelings for the cute barista that takes the time to offer him a new drink during each of his visits.

And conceal as he may, it’s a particularly rainy Saturday afternoon when Akutagawa opens the door to their shared flat where Chuuya is sitting on the living room couch and examining a paper coffee cup, that Akutagawa knows he’s screwed.

“So this is where you go off to so much these days,” Chuuya says, grinning conceitedly like he’s some sort of mafia boss. Akutagawa groans and tries to briskly escape to the confines of his own room whilst he still has the opportunity. Chuuya, somehow, manifests himself directly to Akutagawa’s side, grabbing his wrist, pulling him right back out the door and telling him derisively to lead the way.

Sneaky bastard. Why did Akutagawa agree to room with him again?

On their way to the coffee shop, Chuuya launches into a spiel about his latest classes, wanting to go to the movies, wanting to go to the movies with someone, and of course, relentless teasing about Akutagawa’s supposed crush (“it’s not like that,” Akutagawa replies flatly.)

The bell jingles as they step inside. Atsushi sees him and smiles, calling out his name like always, and for the first time, Akutagawa stiffens, sensing immediately that Chuuya knows. There’s no way Chuuya hadn’t figured it out the moment Atsushi noticed their presence.

“You’ve brought a friend?” Atsushi asks, smiling at both of them.

Akutagawa nods awkwardly, about to introduce the two when Chuuya interrupts him. 

“Chuuya. Nice to meet you,” he interjects, holding out a hand for Atsushi to shake. 

Atsushi hastily dusts his hands off on his apron before taking Chuuya’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Chuuya-san. I’m Atsushi.”

Chuuya smiles, wide and devilish. “Actually Atsushi-kun, my friend is hosting a party this weekend and Akutagawa was wondering if you wanted to come?” Chuuya asks. “It’ll be fun! Lots of food. And drinks.”

Atsushi laughs. “I don’t think I can have alcohol yet.”

Chuuya gives Akutagawa an amused look that Akutagawa gives up on deciphering. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“We can fix you up a glass of orange juice or something,” Chuuya responds, chuckling. “So, think you can make it?”

Atsushi pauses. “I think so but can my boyfriend come? Parties are more of his thing, I think he’d enjoy it.”

…Boyfriend?

There’s a pause. A short one but it feels like an eternity to Akutagawa, and somewhere inside him, he thinks he hears his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach. He shifts uncomfortably.

Chuuya stiffens for a brief second as well but is able to recover considerably faster than Akutagawa is. “Oh! Actually, let me check with my friend about that, but I’ll let you know okay? It was nice meeting you, Atsushi-kun!” And then Chuuya is dragging him out of the cafe again, willing Akutagawa not to look back, not to think about Atsushi tilting his head in concern as to why Akutagawa left without ordering anything.

Atsushi’s boyfriend’s name is Dazai, as Akutagawa learns later that week. It takes a while, but he manages to convince Chuuya that he’s fine and that he’s okay with seeing Atsushi and his boyfriend at the party on the weekend. It’s not private or anything anyway. It wouldn’t have been fair to rid them of an invite just because Akutagawa is still grappling with understanding the feeling of… heartbreak.

And Atsushi, well, Akutagawa would find a way to get over him eventually.

The days turn into months which turn into years and though Atsushi stays by his side through it all, it’s not in the way that Akutagawa wishes it was. Atsushi is still so beautiful. Even when he’s crying into Akutagawa’s shoulder after his first lover’s quarrel with Dazai, even on his wedding day when Akutagawa has to turn away more than once to keep his heart from shattering, again and again, even five, ten, twenty years after they first meet.

Atsushi shines so brightly, and Akutagawa can’t help but think that things would’ve– could’ve been different if he had met him just a little sooner.

Perhaps in another life.

Perhaps they would be given another chance.

I’ll find you again, Akutagawa thinks. He just hopes he’s right.

—

In his next life, Akutagawa finds Atsushi in the most coincidental, spontaneous way possible. 

He’s on a two-week ski trip, forced out of the comfort of his room by his sister Gin and her friend Higuchi. He hates it. He hates every part of it. The cold, the lodge that they’re staying in, the absurd amount of people, the unnecessarily loud laughing of children and families. 

His head hurts.

Despite Gin’s efforts, she’s not able to get Akutagawa to join them on the slopes. Akutagawa doesn’t know how to ski and he doesn’t intend to learn how to either. It’s a mystery to him, why anyone would willingly stay out in the cold for so long– why anyone would willingly torture themselves like that.

He sits by the fireplace in the rest station with his sketchbook and a cup of tea, eyes so focused on colouring the mystic wintry landscape outside the window that he doesn’t pay any mind to the sinking of the couch diagonal to him. 

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes flickering upward to observe the newcomer. 

He chokes.

It’s like a puzzle. Akutagawa slowly, subconsciously, clicks the pieces together until he finally realizes that… holy shit. It’s Atsushi, it’s really him.  

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” he hears a voice say– Atsushi’s voice, sweet and melodic and filled with a familiarity that makes Akutagawa want to call his name and pull him into his arms. He doesn’t, of course, because he’s two hundred percent sure that would scare Atsushi off instantly, and he just chokes some more.

Atsushi is in a state of panic, rushing to bring him some napkins, and only begins to relax when Akutagawa’s coughing fit has ceased. He hands him a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Akutagawa (barely) manages, patting the tea off his hands. 

Atsushi nods. “No worries. Are you okay? The tea wasn’t hot, was it?” he asks, voice masked with concern.

Atsushi still has the same eyes– purple, yellow and beautiful– and after spending years and years staring at them in his past life, Akutagawa thinks that he should have gotten used to them, to the way they sparkle when Atsushi smiles, to the way they glow when they’re hit by sunlight at just the right angle. 

Apparently not because meeting Atsushi’s eyes again sends his mind spiralling all the same.

He has half a mind to shake his head hurriedly. “I’m fine,” he says. “It was cooled.”

Atsushi breathes a sigh of relief and collapses down in the seat across from him. “That’s good to hear. I was scared I would have to call my friend to give you treatment if you had burned yourself.” He laughs and Akutagawa stares at him, still in disbelief.

It’s silent for a minute, both gazing quietly out the window and watching snowflakes fall into the tranquillity of the already blanketing layers of snow. Akutagawa sneaks discreet glances, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation going because this is it. This is the second chance he had asked for.

“Do you, uh, ski?” he asks hesitantly.

Atsushi turns to him at the question. “Oh, yeah I do. My friend told me to wait for him here but I’m starting to wonder if he was tricking me so that he could run off with…” he trails off, pulling out his phone to check for any new messages. “What about you? Do you ski?”

Akutagawa spins his pencil once. “I don’t,” he says. “My sister dragged me here.”

Atsushi’s eyes widen comically. “You’re at a ski resort but you don’t want to ski? Why not?”

Akutagawa shrugs. “The cold, I think. I don’t like the cold.”

“Have you tried it before?” Atsushi asks him, leaning into the conversation more eagerly now, and Akutagawa feels an odd sense of deja vu.

“I don’t know how to ski,” he replies, and Akutagawa swears he can see the moment that Atsushi’s eyes light up with a flicker of determination. 

He stands abruptly. “You said your sister, right? So you’re not waiting for anyone else?” 

Akutagawa nods. “Yes but–”

“Great! I will teach you how to ski.”

“What?”

Atsushi chuckles, motioning at Akutagawa to stand up as well. “It’s important to try new things, you know. And I think you might end up really liking it! Skiing isn’t as hard as it looks,” he says with such enthusiasm that makes Akutagawa really want to cave. “I’m not gonna murder you or anything, if that’s what you’re wondering, and you look about the same age as me so what do you say?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What about your friend?” 

Atsushi sighs. “Ah, he probably ran off with his boyfriend somewhere.” He huffs, pulling at the single long strand of hair that's dangling over his face. “Traitor.”

The thing is, when it comes to Atsushi, it’s really hard for Akutagawa to stop his brain from shutting off entirely. If Atsushi asked him to fly to the moon with him, he would. Anything to see Atsushi’s smile, even for just a few hours more.

He stands up. “Okay,” he says.

Atsushi smiles at him. “Great! Take these.” He throws Akutagawa a scarf, a pair of gloves and a pair of earmuffs. “Those are extras I had on, so don’t worry about me. Now we’ll just have to rent you a pair of skis…”

It’s insane. It’s so insane that Akutagawa lets out a small laugh.

“Oh, I’m Atsushi, by the way,” the boy says, wrapping the scarf around Akutagawa’s neck. “It would probably be good for you to know that.”

I know. I know you, he wants to say.

“I’m Akutagawa.”

Atsushi smiles, holding out a hand. “Okay, Akutagawa. Let’s go on an adventure, shall we?”

God help him, Akutagawa isn’t sure he’ll survive the rest of the afternoon.

—

By the end of two weeks, Atsushi insists on linking hands everywhere they go. Up the ski lifts, down the slopes and everywhere in between. He introduces Akutagawa to his friend group and Akutagawa’s eyes almost pop out of his head when he sees Dazai with his arm around none other than Nakahara Chuuya. There’s a doctor named Yosano who seems to be the most resistant to the cold and she’s standing next to a younger girl named Kyouka who’s wrapped up in bundles of winter attire and whom Atsushi introduces as his adoptive sister.

Gin is pleasantly surprised to find Akutagawa stomping snow off his boots back at their cabin. She asks questions, Akutagawa answers as vaguely as possible, but in the end, she figures out that Akutagawa has met someone to whom he’s taken a liking to and doesn’t push any further.

“We should just stay up here,” Atsushi says as they lie on fluffy snow at the top of the ski hill. “If we never go down, we’ll never have to leave.”

Akutagawa chuckles. “Until security comes and kicks us out.”

Atsushi smacks his arm. “Way to ruin the mood, Ryuu.” And Akutagawa just smiles, satisfied.

Tilting his head to the side, he watches as Atsushi raises his hands to the sky, fingers tracing stars and constellations like he’s playing connect the dots. 

“We’ll keep in touch, right?” Atsushi asks, voice soft.

Akutagawa nods. “Of course.”

“You’ll come visit me?”

“I promise,” he says.

Atsushi hums. “You better keep that promise.”

Akutagawa does.

—

It surprises him how fast he’s able to find Atsushi again.

They’re young, both just barely nearing the age of teenagers, and it takes Akutagawa a second to recognize Atsushi at first because his bangs – they aren’t chopped in that awkward slant like they always were before. Instead, his silvery-white hair falls just above his eyes, a little messy, probably from the winds.

“Hi there,” someone says, and Akutagawa glances to the side of the bench to spot a boy and a blinding amount of sunlight. “Want to come to my treehouse?”

Akutagawa shields his eyes from the sun. “I don’t know you,” he replies with as much nonchalance as he can fit into those four words. Kids his age are annoying.

“Nakajima Atsushi,” the boy answers, tilting his head at him. “Now you do.”

…Atsushi?

Akutagawa leans to the side to get a better view. He’s wearing a pair of those lightly tinted sunglasses, so the colour of his eyes is unclear, but as soon as it clicks, Akutagawa realizes he would recognize that bright, glowing smile even after lifetimes of separation.

“You…”

“Me?”

Akutagawa opens his mouth, trying to force out words of some sort– any sort– but finds himself speechless.

So Atsushi speaks instead. “My treehouse. Do you want to come? I built it with my brother Sigma and his boyfriend.”

He’s in shock again. That seems to be a common theme when it comes to meeting Atsushi.

“Why me?” he ends up asking because it’s the first and only thing that comes to mind. 

Atsushi shrugs. “You were alone and I was alone so if we were alone together, we wouldn’t be alone anymore, right?” The pure optimism in his smile at that moment rivals the sun itself. Akutagawa doesn’t know which one is more blinding.

He’s not exactly sure what Atsushi actually said.  A string nonsense or Atsushi logic, perhaps, but it’s enough to convince Akutagawa to play along. (This Atsushi doesn’t yet know that Akutagawa would follow him anywhere.) So he nods and responds with a hesitant, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Atsushi repeats and immediately begins to lead the way towards the trails alongside the playground they’re at. Akutagawa follows him briskly.

That day marks the commencement of a blossoming friendship. The treehouse is rather large for two twelve-year-olds and quickly becomes their secret hideout. It’s made of wood, filled with pillows and rugs and blankets, and situated at the base of a large, sturdy tree that extends just below the forest canopy. Akutagawa learns that in this life, Atsushi is homeschooled, and Atsushi tells him stories about growing up with his brother whilst all the other kids were running about with their friends from school.

Akutagawa tells Atsushi that he doesn’t have friends despite going to school.

“Why?” Atsushi asks.

“They think I’m scary,” Akutagawa replies.

Atsushi lets out a pretty laugh. “Scary? You’re not scary. The kids at your school must really be cowards then,” he says, only half-jokingly.

Akutagawa also learns that as a child, Atsushi is infinitely more curious about the world, constantly asking Akutagawa to explain the things he’s never experienced before. Birthday parties (they’re draining), amusement parks (too loud), movie theatres (quite boring, honestly), Christmas trees (wait, you’ve never put up a Christmas tree before?), and…

“Ryuu,” Atsushi starts one day when they’re fifteen and finishing Akutagawa’s school project together in the treehouse.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Akutagawa puts down his pencil and stares at Atsushi, who is focused on colouring the title of his poster on radioisotopes in medical imaging. 

“Why so sudden?” he asks.

Atsushi doesn’t look up, continuing to shade lightly between the lines, but Akutagawa can see the soft tinge of pink across his cheeks. “I watched a movie,” he starts slowly. “The on-screen actors were kissing and so my brain sort of… wandered.”

Akutagawa nods. “I see.”

There’s a beat of silence, the treehouse filling once again with the scratching of pencil on paper.

“So have you?” Atsushi asks again.

“You’re really set on this, huh?” 

He meets Atsushi’s eager gaze. 

Akutagawa sighs. “I have,” he says, eyes burning holes into the poster as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

Of course, Atsushi is immediately captivated, grasping Akutagawa’s hands over the table and prodding until Akutagawa finally raises his head to look at him. “You have? How was it? Did you like it?” Atsushi bombards.

Akutagawa rolls his eyes fondly. “No, I didn’t.”

The boy drops his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing and letting his face turn into a slightly perplexed frown. “Why not?”

“Because it was with a girl. And I... like boys.” Because it wasn’t with you, is what Akutagawa doesn’t say.

He nods in understanding, tucking a strand of hair away and going back to his colouring. Akutagawa thinks that’s that.

But Atsushi’s next question is like a bombshell, dropped on him without any warning, without any time for much-needed mental preparation, and Akutagawa’s mind becomes chaos in more ways than one.

“Would you kiss me?”

Sirens are ringing in his head and it’s as if a dam has broken down. All those thoughts that Akutagawa has willed himself not to think about until the time is right– until he can figure out whether the Atsushi in this life feels the same, until he can properly assess the stakes and whether or not he wants to put their friendship at risk– they all come flooding back like a tsunami.

“Do you hear yourself right now?” he says back, more with disbelief than anything else.

Atsushi sighs. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to say yes.”

“I–”

“It’s okay, Ryuu. You don’t have to feel bad.”

“Wait, Atsushi–”

Purple-yellow eyes meet grey ones, and for a second, all Akutagawa sees is Atsushi. Atsushi’s wrist in his hand, Atsushi’s hair blowing softly from the wind coming through the open window…

He can’t lose his chance with Atsushi like he did the first time. 

So he pulls him closer, placing a soft, fleeting kiss on Atsushi’s lips.

And when he pulls away, Atsushi’s eyes are so wide in surprise that Akutagawa almost chuckles. It takes him a second, but Atsushi comes back to reality, immediately letting a soft smile take over his face.

“Do that again.”

And Akutagawa does, pulling Atsushi closer and letting the dam fall. It feels so right, like the universe wants to keep them together, and Akutagawa really wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Two years later, Akutagawa asks Atsushi to go to prom with him because he knows that it’s one event that he wants to experience with Atsushi, rather than recount to him after he’s experienced it by himself. Atsushi’s always been more of a romantic, anyway, and Akutagawa thinks that perhaps, if Atsushi is there, his memory of the experience would be significantly less pessimistic than the other ones he’s shared. 

“I don’t go to your school though,” Atsushi says, lying with his head on Akutagawa’s lap and playing with the front strands of his hair.

“Our teachers said it’s okay. As long as you have a ticket,” he replies. “I have two.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Atsushi smiles. “Thank you, Ryuu.”

Akutagawa hums.

And thank you, Atsushi.

—

There comes a time when Akutagawa’s streak of good luck runs out. Every wish comes with a price, all good things come to an end, and it’s inevitable– a lifetime without Atsushi, that is. 

Knowing this doesn’t make the pain any more bearable. One lifetime turns into two which turns into three, and each time, Akutagawa lives spending every spare second looking over his shoulder and tricking himself into thinking the silver-haired passerby across the street could be him, only to be disappointed when he’s not met with Atsushi’s sparkling two-toned eyes.

It hurts. It really really hurts, and Akutagawa doesn’t know if he can live another lifetime like that.

“Lemonade,” he hears Chuuya say as he slams a plastic cup down in front of Akutagawa. “Drink it or you’ll get dehydrated. Stupid heat.”

Akutagawa snaps out of his thoughts, bringing himself back to the present. There’s the sound of carnival rides around him, loud music just barely audible over the excited chatter of the carnival-goers. He’s manning the control panels for a fast-paced spinning ride that makes him dizzy just by watching and the summer heat is grilling him alive.

“Did you just get back from your break?” he asks, taking a sip. The ice cubes in the cup clink against each other and Akutagawa’s throat is grateful for a taste of quite possibly the most refreshing thing he’s had all day.

Chuuya nods, pulling his long hair back and tying it with an elastic. “It’s time to switch. You’re supposed to take Tachihara’s place on safety checks.”

Akutagawa groans. He barely has enough energy to sit up straight, let alone stand, but he pushes himself off the stool nonetheless and signals to Tachihara that he’s good to go.

Carnival working isn’t too bad, he supposes. Chuuya knows the owner of their travelling carnival well, so he’s always able to bring Akutagawa free drinks or free kettle corn. The drinks are an absolute blessing when he’s standing outside for hours on end while the sun is scorching hot and high in the sky. As for the other snacks, he gives them to Gin because he’s never been too fond of all the sugar.

The ride flies past him and Akutagawa sighs, watching it slowly come to a stop. The group of riders exit and a new group floods in.

It’s like clockwork. He waits for them to settle, then goes around to check each of their seatbelts and make sure that the bar is securely locked. The carnival is always popular at this time of year, but Akutagawa’s had the job long enough to teach himself how to tune out the irritating sounds of screaming. 

He reaches the second last cart. “Arms up,” he says listlessly, waiting for the two to comply. He sneaks a glance at Chuuya who sends him an encouraging thumbs-up, then glances back to the task at hand.

There’s a girl with two thick red braids cascading down each of her shoulders and she elbows the boy next to her who laughs and looks up. Realization hits Akutagawa like a slap to the face, and for several moments, Akutagawa completely forgets that he’s on a job and that he’s supposed to be checking safety, not being a creep.

“Oi! Akutagawa!” Chuuya calls from the control station. “You okay?”

He blinks, stepping back for a second.

“Sorry,” he mutters to Atsushi and the girl.

Atsushi smiles at him for the first time in what feels like an eternity and Akutagawa feels it like a knife to his chest. All of the missing and longing and wishing that the universe would join his side again only seem to multiply by a million.

“It’s alright,” Atsushi replies softly. 

He pulls at their seatbelt once, checks the bar to make sure it’s secure and then steps back, gaze lingering for what he hopes isn’t too long before moving to the last cart.

For the duration of the ride, Akutagawa keeps his eyes on Atsushi’s cart, not minding the insane amount of dizziness that follows if he’s able to see Atsushi happy for even two minutes of an entire lifetime. 

—

“Ryuu!” 

Akutagawa looks up from his dorm room desk just in time to see Atsushi bursting through the door and flopping onto his bed. It’s become a habit of sorts. Atsushi seems to prefer Akutagawa’s bed a thousand times more than his own, despite it being more or less the exact same and barely even half a room away.

“Hi,” Akutagawa says, going back to his work. “How was dinner?”

Atsushi sighs, laying back onto Akutagawa’s pillow and turning to the side so that he can watch Akutagawa do his schoolwork diligently.

“It was alright. It would’ve been better if you were there,” Atsushi says.

“Wasn’t hungry.”

Atsushi rolls his eyes. “I know, you always say that.” He sits up again and jumps off the bed. “Which is why I brought you this.”

He rummages through a beige canvas tote bag and pulls out a cylindrical styrofoam container and a piece of bread. 

Akutagawa stares at the food.

Atsushi pushes it towards him. “You’ve been skipping dinner a lot, and since you refuse to do it yourself, I will keep you healthy.” He beams and shoves a spoon and a pair of chopsticks into his hands.

Stupid Atsushi and his stupidly caring nature.

Akutagawa opens the container reluctantly because he knows Atsushi’s stubbornness is beyond competition.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks, seeing the other boy eyeing the contents warily.

Atsushi almost immediately stiffens, face flushing and pushing the bag away which only fuels Akutagawa’s curiosity even more.

“Uh–” Atsushi looks uneasy and Akutagawa gives him a look of concern. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

He takes a bite of the bread. “What is it?”

“Ryuu… if I told you I had an idea,” Atsushi begins. “A not so good idea that could get us both in a lot of trouble…”

Akutagawa raises an eyebrow but urges him to go on.

“Would you hate me for it?”

It’s a little unnerving. Atsushi’s always been one to follow the rules, so Akutagawa understands where the doubt is coming from, especially if Atsushi’s idea really does involve breaking rules of any sort. But the fact that Atsushi would even be thinking about breaking a rule in the first place is what takes Akutagawa by surprise. 

His eyes widen a little, pausing mid-bite to turn his head to meet the other’s gaze.

Atsushi is biting at his lip nervously, fiddling with the sleeves of his uniform, and his sunset eyes are filled with nothing but uncertainty, a look that Akutagawa wishes he couldn’t see.

He sighs. “You know I could never hate you.”

Atsushi gives him a weak smile. “Right, yeah, uh…” he trails off and Akutagawa watches him.

“I can hear you overthinking.”

Atsushi should laugh, but he doesn’t and that’s when Akutagawa knows he’s thinking about something seriously.

“Ryuu… if I asked you to run away with me, would you come?”

There’s a brief silence.

“What?” Akutagawa almost knocks over his soup. “Like elope? Where did this come from?”

Their boarding school isn’t the best. The teachers are biased, the students are arrogant as fuck and Akutagawa would give anything to be able to slap the principal, Mori, once across the face. But from the five years that Akutagawa has known Atsushi in this lifetime, the latter has always seemed to fit in perfectly with the prestigious school, despite his background living in an orphanage. The teachers love him, he is magically able to make even the meanest students seem genuine, and Akutagawa would even go as far as to say Atsushi excels at the school. It brings out the best in him.

Atsushi continues to pull at the loose threads on his sweater vest. “Well, technically elope would imply that we’re running away together to get married, which, I don’t know if you would want.” He laughs awkwardly and Akutagawa’s heart takes another step towards exploding. 

“But why?” he asks. If Atsushi seems happy at the school, why would he want to leave?

Atsushi thinks for a moment. “I’m grateful for this school because it gave me a feeling of being at home that I couldn’t feel at the orphanage.” He looks at Akutagawa who nods. “And I’m thankful for Dazai, I really am, but it’s you, Ryuu. I know you’re not happy here and if you’re not happy then I can’t be happy either.”

Akutagawa stares at him. “You knew?”

Atsushi nods and smiles at him. “I’m more observant than you think.”

Akutagawa shakes his head. “I can’t do that to you.”

“What if I told you I was planning on running away, anyway? I already told Dazai. He just laughed and said I should go see the world and then come back to save him with a souvenir from every country.”

Atsushi quickly pours out the contents of the bag onto Akutagawa’s bed. “And Ranpo-san prepared all of this food for us,” he continues. “He said we would just need to find a microwave and eat in small portions and it would keep us alive for a few weeks at least.” 

“You got the school’s personal chef to help you out on this plan too?” Akutagawa asks, dumbfounded.

Atsushi smiles. “Ranpo-san encouraged me too. He said once I came back, he’d sneak me in and make me a nice big bowl of chazuke.”

It’s so absurd. Atsushi’s eyes hold galaxies of stars and Akutagawa knows that if he turns him down, the stars will fall dim. Perhaps Atsushi longs for freedom just as much as Akutagawa does, he was just better at hiding it, and maybe Atsushi’s determination about this idea stems from the fact that life had already been brutally harsh on him before.

They’re both a little too fearless, a little too reckless, but Akutagawa knows he would feel better following Atsushi and keeping him safe than letting him go on his own.

So he smiles. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Maybe a little, but so are you.”

Akutagawa laughs. “When are we leaving?”

Somehow, the stars in Atsushi’s eyes light up infinitely brighter. 

—

It’s a little hard to look for Atsushi again when Akutagawa can barely keep himself alive.

He’s made enemies, a lot of them, all unintentionally of course, and to say that they’re actively hunting him down is an understatement. Akutagawa hasn’t slept in three days, he’s barely eaten a full meal in what feels like centuries, and he’s forced to look around every corner for cops, assassins, hitmen, the list goes on. 

He turns into an alleyway, back against the wall to watch for any unwanted visitors. It’s quiet, save for the light pattering of rain against building windows and the sound of cars rushing through shallow puddles on the main road. 

He’s alone. He drops his guard just the slightest.

Akutagawa would say that he trusts his senses. His eyes can see better in the dark than most and he can pick up on faint sounds of rustling and movement rather well. 

Which is why he’s completely taken aback when he feels the edge of a knife dangerously close to his throat a second later, threatening to dig into his skin at any second.

“Akutagawa Ryuunosuke,” a voice says, quiet but menacing all the same. “I’ve been searching for you.”

It’s a rather admirable feat. Despite his young age, not many hired assassins or hitmen have managed to get Akutagawa in a position other than having the upper hand. Hand to hand combat is not a problem for him and sneak attacks never succeed because his pursuers never actually know how to be sneaky.

Whoever this is, Akutagawa gives them credit for making it this far.

“Impressive. You actually found me.” Akutagawa grunts. “Who are you again?”

The person doesn’t react, keeping the knife impossibly steady. “My clients wish to remain anonymous so that information is classified,” they say.

Akutagawa twists around so that he can get a look at his pursuer. He does it carefully, making sure that he doesn’t accidentally cut himself on the knife and slow enough that it doesn’t raise any suspicion.

He’s not prepared to meet the unfamiliarly familiar gaze of the last person he’d expect to be doing this line of work. Atsushi’s eyes look cold, dead, void of the energy that Akutagawa is so used to seeing in other lifetimes, and it pains him in ways he didn’t even know were possible. Atsushi is in pain– flawlessly suppressed pain but pain nonetheless.

“You’re… an assassin…” 

Atsushi doesn’t waver, hands still holding the knife to Akutagawa’s neck, so steady that Akutagawa can’t help but wonder how long Atsushi has been doing this job. How could Atsushi– his beautifully optimistic Atsushi– have turned to such a terrifying line of work? Why couldn’t Akutagawa have found him earlier to prevent this from happening?

“That I am,” Atsushi says. “And you’re my mark so I’ll have to kill you now.”

Akutagawa’s hand flies up. “Wait–!”

Atsushi doesn’t, killing him in one swift motion.

Akutagawa falls and Atsushi is off in a flash.

—

Sometimes, it’s hard to keep going.

Sometimes Akutagawa contemplates giving up. Not on Atsushi, but on remembering his past lifetimes, because it’s really hard to keep going when all he can think about is Atsushi’s eyes, stone-cold and lifeless in front of him, and his hands holding a blade just as sharp as his glare. 

One thing Akutagawa does know is that he would choose the lifetimes in which he’s killed by Atsushi over those lifetimes in which they never meet. A thousand times over, no question.

But he hates it. He hates that Atsushi had to suffer the way he did. He hates that Atsushi had to keep living like that even after Akutagawa was gone. He hates that he couldn’t help Atsushi through such a dark lifetime.

Akutagawa pours a bowl of cereal for himself and grabs the newspaper that was delivered to his house that morning.

He flips through the articles, half skimming, half filling himself with stale cheerios from who knows how long ago. Minor tragedy, stupidity, politicians, some more stupidity, the same articles, same headlines, all just history repeating itself.

That is, until he reaches an article that makes his eyes pop out of his skull. And not in a good way.

Nakajima Atsushi. 18. Died in a tragic car accident due to a faulty airbag.

For several seconds, Akutagawa just sits there, staring at the newspaper like it’s grown arms and legs and is teasing him maniacally.

If the universe was rooting for them before, Akutagawa can swear on his entire existence that it isn’t anymore. The nightmarish image of a car totalled on the side of what seems to be a major highway glowers back at him, and the only thing Akutagawa can hear is his mind screaming it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.

He finds it hard to breathe.

—

Akutagawa swears he’ll make this lifetime work.

And he’s lucky again, that he doesn’t have to search very far to find him. Two weeks before the first performance of their spring production starring none other than their beloved seniors, Chuuya and Dazai, Atsushi joins the backstage crew of their high school drama club– due to Dazai’s stubborn persistence (or so he says).

Dazai introduces him with a proud smile, arm draped over the younger’s shoulder, and Akutagawa watches as Atsushi gives a shy wave and a tender smile.

It feels nostalgic. This is how it’s supposed to be. This is what it’s like to have Atsushi back in his life. Atsushi’s eyes, though a little reserved, are filled with mirth again and Akutagawa decides that that’s all that matters.

As long as Atsushi is happy.

“Please give him a warm welcome,” he hears Dazai say. “Nikolai, no funny business. Now Atsushi-kun, we’re gonna do a full rehearsal of the play today so how about you find somewhere to settle in? I’m sure Ranpo-san could teach you how to do the sound, or maybe Naomi-chan with the curtains? Or–”

Akutagawa’s mouth speaks before his brain.

“I could… teach him how to work the lights,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound overly restless.

Dazai raises an eyebrow, probably because Akutagawa’s never been the most welcoming to newcomers. 

“Uh, alright then,” he says reluctantly, turning to Atsushi. “That’s Akutagawa-kun. Strangely, he seems pretty eager to show you the ropes, so just follow his lead, okay?”

Atsushi nods and makes his way over.

Akutagawa’s brain jumbles. He’s never been very great at socializing. 

“Hi,” Atsushi says, as soon as he’s by Akutagawa’s side. “I’m Atsushi. I mean, I guess you already know that because Dazai just introduced me but it felt right so I hope you don’t mind– I’m rambling again– sorry, I’m not usually such a mess…”

It’s cute.

He’s always been cute.

Akutagawa missed this.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s normal to be nervous,” he says, motioning for Atsushi to follow him backstage.

Atsushi relaxes the tension in his shoulders and it’s like magic, the way it makes Akutagawa feel lighter too. 

“Thanks,” Atsushi says, and Akutagawa nods.

It’s a slow start, as it always is, but Atsushi is an incredibly fast learner and Akutagawa can’t help but notice how much easier things are when it comes to talking with Atsushi. He’s still a little awkward of course, both of them are, but there’s a comfort he’s never felt with anyone else in this life, except, perhaps, Chuuya and Gin.

Atsushi follows him closely, observing the procedures silently before trying them out himself. Akutagawa tries not to notice the subtle brushing of their fingers whenever they both reach for the console at the same time. He does whatever he can to resist the urge to hold Atsushi’s hand with his own and keep it there under the table while watching Dazai and Chuuya recite their lines.

“So tell me, Atsushi,” Chuuya says one day, handing him a cookie baked by Nikolai’s boyfriend, Sigma, who has become somewhat of a drama club treasure due to his heavenly talent in pastry making. “What kind of spell did you put on Akutagawa to have him actually be cordial towards you?”

Akutagawa rolls his eyes. “Chuuya–”

He shushes him. “Let the boy speak, Akutagawa,” he says, then narrows his eyes. “If you’re really Akutagawa, that is.”

He sighs. Drama kids and their neverending theatrics.

From next to him, Atsushi lets out a light laugh. “I don’t have that power Chuuya-san. If you were looking to use it on Dazai-san, I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”

Akutagawa gapes at him. As does Chuuya. All these lifetimes and Atsushi still manages to surprise him.

Atsushi just smiles at them, satisfied, and goes back to playing with the lights.

“I like you, kid,” Chuuya says after he successfully recovers from the shock. “I’m stealing you from Dazai.”

By some practiced fashion, Chuuya really does manage to steal Atsushi from Dazai, but in doing so, he’s also managed to limit Atsushi’s time with Akutagawa to a tee. He’s not mad. Atsushi still hangs around him backstage while Chuuya is rehearsing, but it’s hard to find Atsushi alone outside of rehearsals anymore.

It’s the evening after opening night, and everyone's out celebrating a successful performance just like they always do. The city is bustling with noise and filled with bright lights that illuminate the river and the cherry blossom trees lining the side of the road.

Akutagawa is walking at the back of the group, observing as Atsushi and Chuuya walk side by side at the front. In the two weeks that Atsushi’s been a part of the crew, he’s become good friends with the majority of the club and gained confidence, all the good kind. Akutagawa thinks it’s Chuuya’s doing so he really can’t find it in himself to be upset. 

“Hi stranger,” a voice says, snapping Akutagawa out of his thoughts and belatedly realizing that Atsushi is no longer at the front of the group but has instead, manifested by his side.

“Hey,” Akutagawa says. “What are you doing here?”

Atsushi keeps his eyes trained forward, watching the cars rush by them on one side whilst the river runs back to the sea on the other. “Chuuya said you’ve been sulking so I came back here to check on you,” he says, shrugging.

Akutagawa splutters. “He said what? I’m gonna kill that bastard–”

Atsushi laughs. “I’m sure Dazai-san would appreciate that.”

One thing Akutagawa has always appreciated about his relationships with Atsushi is the ability for them to fall into a silence that’s comfortable, free of any of the awkward tension that usually fills a quiet air. They walk in step and Atsushi is close enough that Akutagawa can feel the occasional bumping of their shoulders.

It takes him all of his built-up courage to ask his next question. 

“Do you like Chuuya?” he blurts, bracing himself for an answer he didn’t want to hear. He’s been let down lifetime after lifetime for what feels like forever that he really doesn’t know if his heart can take another rejection (intentional or not).

Atsushi stops in his tracks, heat rising to his face almost instantly. “What? Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately so I just thought–”

Atsushi shakes his hands in front of his chest hastily. “No that’s not– I don’t–” he groans softly. “No, he was just… helping me with something, I’m sorry Aku. I realize I haven’t been here for you much recently.”

Akutagawa breathes out a sigh of relief.

“It’s alright.”

Despite Atsushi keeping both of his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie, Akutagawa still notices the other’s nervous fiddling. 

“Would it… would it make a difference if I did?” Atsushi asks, voice tentative. “Like Chuuya-san, I mean.” 

Akutagawa can’t shake the feeling that he sounds hopeful, as if waiting for Akutagawa to reply a certain way.

“Yes.”

Akutagawa looks everywhere but at Atsushi’s eyes– at the ground, at the river, at the sun dipping just past the skyline in a palette of orange, pink and purple clouds.

The wind ruffles the trees.

Atsushi smiles. “You’ve got petals in your hair,” he says, reaching up to brush them away.

“So do you,” Akutagawa says, though he doesn’t make a move to remove them. The pink contrasts beautifully with the light silver of Atsushi’s hair and he can’t help but think that Atsushi looks absolutely ethereal, sprinkled in soft pink flowers and smiling at him tenderly.

He feels a hand lace with his own.

“Let’s hurry, we’re gonna lose the group.”

Akutagawa lets himself be dragged along, blinking at their intertwined hands and following Atsushi in a daze.

—

There is a reason why Akutagawa hates the lifetimes where he is born with status. Perhaps he sounds selfish, as even he knows that many others would give anything to live a life in such luxury, but the pain that comes with having too much of everything is torture. Pure, cruel, artless, torture.

He sighs for the twentieth time that hour. Small-talking drains the life out of him. All Akutagawa wants is to head home, change out of his horridly elaborate dress suit and drink tea with his cat. Masquerade balls be damned. 

Excusing himself, he steps away from the dance floor, hoping that he’s not noticed by Gin (who would definitely drag him back with an offhanded comment about how he needs to learn to be less tense in party settings like these).

The garden is just outside the ballroom, so the music is still audible through glass windows but considerably less. It’s illuminated by the soft glow of garden lights, but Akutagawa knows the ball guests are all too focused on dancing to notice that there’s anyone outside.

He’s glancing backwards to make sure no one has followed him when he feels someone bump into his side. There’s a rustling of grass and a muffled, “Ouch,” before Akutagawa looks down to see a boy sprawled out on the grass beneath him, rubbing his head.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Akutagawa says, immediately offering him a hand. “Are you okay?”

The boy takes it and gives him a small nod. “I’m good,” he says. “Ah, but my suit…”

It’s white, and it is bound to have countless grass stains on it after that fall.

“That’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’ll pay for a new suit as a replacement–”

The boy quickly shakes his head. “Ah, no please don’t. Fukuzawa-san is rather forgiving and he knows how clumsy I can get…”

Clumsy and yet still chooses to wear a white suit? Akutagawa almost laughs.

“Why are you out here?” Akutagawa decides to ask. 

The boy dusts off his pants again, then crosses his arms and looks up to meet Akutagawa’s eyes. “I could ask you the same thing,” he chides, voice playful.

The boy’s face is covered by a sparkly cerulean half mask, tied with a black ribbon around the back of his head. It looks fitted to his face, matching the colour of his suit beautifully, and does everything to emphasize the unique features of his that are still visible. 

Akutagawa doesn’t need to see anything other than the boy’s eyes for his mind to bloom with recognition.

Atsushi.

And, oh how he looks so gorgeous at that moment, decorated in fancy silks, sparkly jewels, iridescent sapphire eyeliner, and glowing under the serene moonlight.

He pinches himself behind his back.

“It was… loud,” Akutagawa replies. “Far too much small talk for one night.”

Atsushi smiles. “I’m gonna have to agree with you on that. I don’t get the chance to come to these types of events much, so it’s a lot to get used to.”

Akutagawa nods and it’s quiet again. He sits down on the nearest bench and observes the rich green shrubs, many already blossoming with flowers of the summer season.

Atsushi is next to him, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as he relishes the feeling of fresh air, and Akutagawa is trying desperately to think of something to say that wouldn’t seem out of place, because in this life, Atsushi doesn’t know him yet. In this life, they’re still strangers.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks, turning to Atsushi nervously.

The words feel foreign on his tongue. He knows how to dance, of course. It's a common custom for being raised in such a high-class family as his own. It’s just that he’s never asked anyone to dance… sincerely.

Atsushi looks at him in surprise. “Here?”

Akutagawa nods. “Why not?”

A second passes and Atsushi stares at Akutagawa’s outstretched hand with hesitance. Eventually, he does play along, and Akutagawa’s heart skips when Atsushi’s reluctant expression slowly turns into a smile.

He places one hand on Atsushi’s waist and holds his other hand with his own. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Atsushi nods and brings his free hand up to Akutagawa’s shoulders. 

And they dance. As gracefully as they can, though they do trip over each other’s feet occasionally and end up in a fit of laughter. Akutagawa spins Atsushi around until they’re both dizzy, holding onto each other to maintain their balance as Atsushi’s bright smile blinds him.

It’s the most fun he’s had in a long while. Though he supposes that with Atsushi, things are always endlessly more colourful. He doesn’t want it to end.

Atsushi sits on the grass, insisting that his suit is already ruined anyway and that the grass is much more comfortable than those hard stone benches. Akutagawa watches him weave together flower stems.

“Hey, I–” Akutagawa starts but is interrupted by another voice calling to them by the garden entrance.

“Atsushi-kun! Come back here, okay? It’s getting late so we’re gonna head home soon!”

Atsushi’s head perks up.

“Ah, sorry I think that’s my cue to leave,” he says to Akutagawa. He holds the completed flower crown in his hands, fingers sweeping delicately over the flowers he had picked up off of the ground. “I had fun today. Thank you, uh…”

“Akutagawa.”

He smiles. “Thank you, Akutagawa. Perhaps we will see each other again.” 

Just before he goes, Atsushi places the flower crown on Akutagawa’s head, whispering something about how the red matches his black mask before running off.

Akutagawa spends the rest of that life searching for a pair of familiar purple-yellow eyes. At parties, at balls, at gatherings… he finds nothing.

He doesn’t see Atsushi again. The flowers on the flower crown wilt and die soon after their first and only encounter in that lifetime.

—

One would think that after so many lifetimes of chasing, Akutagawa would’ve taught himself how to successfully start a conversation with Atsushi as strangers without sounding out of place.

He’s at the airport, waiting for the midnight flight that would take him directly to Europe to further his studies as a university student. The caffeine isn’t kicking in, and Akutagawa feels his entire body sinking with dread.

Airports have always felt surreal. Time is near irrelevant there. Aside from predetermined flight times, everyone lives in their own world– in their own time zones– coming and going from all over the world, and the result is a bizarre, bustling, worldwide hotspot. 

It’s interesting.

Akutagawa rests his head on his arms, watching wearily as groups of passengers flood out of arrivals.

He sees someone rush past him, too distracted to notice a hardcover journal of some sort fly out of his bag. Akutagawa startles and stares at it for a few seconds before deciding to pick it up.

There’s a name engraved on the front in a swirly golden font.

A. Nakajima.

Akutagawa’s heart stops.

Could it be?

He squints in the direction of the arrivals again and sure enough, is just able to make out a tuft of silver-white hair. Pushing past the crowds of people, Akutagawa wills himself to take a deep breath before tapping the boy on his shoulder.

Atsushi whips around.

“Hi,” Akutagawa starts slowly. “Sorry to bother you but I think you dropped this.” He holds out the journal, desperately hoping that Atsushi isn’t able to notice the slight shaking of his hands.

Atsushi’s face lights up immediately. “Oh my god, thank you! I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost this. Seriously, you've done me a huge favour.”

Akutagawa nods. “Yeah, of course,” he says, wracking his brain for literally anything else to say.

But before he can get out another word, Atsushi smiles at him, returns a nod, then dashes off again, and it leaves Akutagawa with his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. 

Atsushi is right there. He’s there and he’s running in the opposite direction from Akutagawa. It’s as if Akutagawa has reached out a hand only to miss– just barely, touching the fabric of Atsushi’s jacket only to have it slip out of his hold. It’s just like the last lifetime, and Akutagawa is frozen in place.

Disorientedly, he hears his flight being called over an announcement playing through the airport loudspeakers.

Akutagawa contemplates running after him, he really does. Atsushi’s back is already fading into the distance and it’s so hard to let him go when he knows that the chances of them meeting again in this lifetime are little to none.

But Atsushi doesn’t know him, and he isn’t supposed to know Atsushi, and as he watches him get farther away, Akutagawa can only hope that the universe will be kinder to them the next time.

—

The end of the world comes in quiet.

Okay, maybe not the end of the world, but Akutagawa thinks that being one of the last people still alive after the apocalypse is enough to qualify as the dying of the world, at least. The days are long and drawn out, and Akutagawa would be lying if he said he knew– if he said he still cared about what day of the week it is. 

Time blurs together and it’s become a little bit of a guessing game, figuring out whether he would die before the world did.

“Hey, Ryuu.”

Akutagawa looks up and sees Atsushi standing just over him. He smiles. Akutagawa feels a little less depressed.

“You’re wearing a headband,” he observes, nodding at the piece of red fabric that’s tied around Atsushi’s hair in a bow. 

Atsushi sits down beside him. They’re on top of a grassy hill that overlooks a dying valley. The trees are burnt to ashes and the once luscious green woodland has fallen into dull, monotonous greys. The only thing that still bears some semblance of colour is the twisting river that runs between the cliffs and towards the sea.

“Kyouka made one for everyone and Dazai-san insisted we all wear it,” Atsushi says, laughing. “You’ve got one too, you know. It’s back at the shelter.”

Akutagawa makes a face. “I’d rather not,” he says, watching the sun get lower in the blood-red sky. Akutagawa wonders if this will be the last sunset they see.

Atsushi hands him a jug of water. “I know you wouldn’t, but it’s fun. Chuuya-san used his to tie his hair.”

The wind rustles, dancing playfully and whistling softly into their ears as if everything is okay. As if this post-apocalyptic life is no different than life when the world was still normal.

Akutagawa doesn’t say anything, letting the silence play out comfortably. Atsushi is fiddling with the macrame bracelet they had made a few weeks back. It’s a habit, he’s noticed, like a mechanism for keeping himself calm.

“Ryuu?” Atsushi says a few minutes later.

Akutagawa hums to let him know he’s listening.

“I love you,” he whispers. 

Akutagawa turns to him, eyes wide in surprise. He’s heard it before, in other lifetimes where they don’t reside on a dying planet overlooking a dying landscape while wondering if they’ll manage to see another day. Atsushi looks onward at the sun.

“You always manage to take me by surprise, you know?” Akutagawa tells him, chuckling.

Atsushi cracks a smile at that but doesn’t say anything.

So Akutagawa continues. “I love you too.”

It’s a little hard to label their relationship when they both know that an end is coming– that an end is inevitable. Akutagawa thinks he wouldn’t mind dying as Atsushi’s lover, but perhaps that would make the pain all the worse at the same time.

Or maybe it’s because they both know what they are already.

He takes a sip of water.

“Ryuu?” Atsushi says again, sitting cross-legged and watching the sun dip below the horizon.

“Hm?”

“Would you still love me if we weren’t the only ones left in the world?” he asks.

Akutagawa hears a tinge of insecurity in Atsushi’s voice. It’s well-disguised, and Akutagawa thinks he would’ve missed it if he didn’t know Atsushi so well. His brain flashes back to all the lifetimes in which Atsushi didn’t exist and how it was always in those lifetimes that he would die alone. 

“I’d love you even if I could jump through universes and meet everyone to ever exist,” Akutagawa decides to say.

And it’s true. Even after all those lifetimes together, Atsushi is still the only one who manages to steal Akutagawa’s breath away.

Atsushi nods, offering him a gentle smile and resting his head on Akutagawa’s shoulder. Somehow, Akutagawa knows that Atsushi believes him.

—

In their next life, Atsushi goes through a lot of breakups. 

As his best friend, it’s Akutagawa’s job to comfort him.

Sure it hurts a little (a lot). Akutagawa has lost track of the number of times Atsushi has come back to their dorm crying over the boys that Akutagawa had already warned him about beforehand. In this life, Atsushi lacks judgement, and though Akutagawa does his best to act as his rational side, it is– and always has been– so hard to say no to those beautiful sunset eyes.

Akutagawa has learnt that Atsushi requires four things when he gets his heart broken. A pint of cookie dough ice cream, his tiger plushie, the softest blanket available, and Akutagawa’s shoulder.

And it’s on those days that Akutagawa ends up getting no sleep, especially because Atsushi insists on having Akutagawa stay with him to binge-watch his favourite 2000s rom-coms. 

And Akutagawa does. No matter how sick he is of watching those same movies over and over again.

In this life, Akutagawa doesn’t bother asking Atsushi out because of two reasons; a lack of good timing and the fact that Atsushi is in no state of mind to throw himself into a romantic relationship with his best friend.

Akutagawa thinks he’s content with this, as long as he’s able to remain in Atsushi’s life.

“I want you to meet my boyfriend,” Atsushi says one day while Akutagawa is drowning in a sea of complicated calculus problems. 

He doesn’t look up from his notebook. “Again?”

Atsushi nods. “I know what you’re gonna say but just meet him once, please. He’s different, I promise.”

You say that every time.

Akutagawa sighs, setting down his pencil to give the silver-haired an incredulous look. “You’re gonna get hurt again.”

There’s a brief pause. Atsushi looks down at his hands and pouts, just the slightest. Akutagawa already knows how this is going to go.

“You’re my best friend. He’s the one, I can swear on my life,” Atsushi defends.

“Please don’t do that.” I doubt you’ll keep that promise. Sure Atsushi sounds confident, but he always does, and it had taken Akutagawa a while to realize that his confidence was backed up by virtually nothing. A rush of adrenaline from having his fleeting crush like him back and that’s it. They’re both young but sometimes it feels like Akutagawa is the one with the relationship experience, despite never having been in one this lifetime. He crosses his arms. “Once more. No taking it back,” he says. “And maybe this time you should actually trust me if I tell you he’s not right for you.”

Atsushi gives him a quick nod. “You’re the best, Ryuu! We’re going out with him for dinner tonight!”

He snaps his head up. “...Like, now?”

Akutagawa should not have agreed to this.

—

An hour later, he’s sitting in a fancy restaurant– dimly lit, lavishly decorated, and surrounded by people in crisp suits and expensive dresses. He feels immensely out of place.

Atsushi had gone outside to meet the boyfriend of his, whom Akutagawa is still extremely disinclined to meet. It’s a routine at this point. Atsushi convinces Akutagawa to meet with someone, Akutagawa tells Atsushi about all the red flags, Atsushi doesn’t listen, Atsushi gets his heart broken. 

Akutagawa hates how weak Atsushi makes him sometimes.

The door to the restaurant opens again and he looks up.

In all of Akutagawa’s lifetimes, there seem to be a few constants. Atsushi is in his life the most frequently, either in love with him or in love with someone else, depending on how fate wants that life to play out. If it’s someone else, Akutagawa has noticed that more often than not, it’s Dazai Osamu, the same guy Atsushi was in love with during the very first life that Akutagawa remembers.

There are other constants too. Even in the lifetimes when Atsushi doesn’t exist, Akutagawa still longs to wrap his arms around Atsushi’s waist, pull him into his arms, lace their fingers together, and tell him just what lengths he would go to to stay in that moment forever.

Gin has been his sister in countless lifetimes too.

And then, of course, there is Chuuya. 

Chuuya who’s been his closest friend in many more lifetimes than one. Chuuya who seems to care about him even in the lifetimes where Atsushi doesn’t exist, causing him to become a moody teenager and quite possibly a nuisance to everyone around him. Chuuya who always does all the talking for him, but never in a bad way. 

Chuuya, who walks through the restaurant door holding Atsushi’s hand and laughing as he places his hat on Atsushi’s head.

Akutagawa finds himself staring.

“Nakahara Chuuya. Nice to meet you Akutagawa-kun. Atsushi has told me all about you.”

Atsushi nods, taking a seat next to Akutagawa. “All good things, of course. Seriously Ryuu, you’re a better friend than you give yourself credit for.”

Akutagawa gives them a forced smile. “Right.”

“So, shall we order?”

Chuuya is still as confident as ever, but he smiles at Atsushi with such tenderness that Akutagawa can’t help but think that this lifetime was made for them. The universe wanted to mix things up, shuffle the cards, experiment with the pieces a little, and it worked. It really really worked.

Atsushi’s smile lights up the room, and their conversation flows so naturally, so easily. 

Seeing Atsushi laugh like that… Akutagawa doesn’t have the heart to be jealous.

As soon as the waiter jots down their order and takes the menus away, Atsushi excuses himself to use the bathroom and Akutagawa mentally curses.

Chuuya pours them some wine. Akutagawa isn’t supposed to be nervous. Usually, this would be the perfect time for interrogation and establishing his role as the intimidating best friend that no one should dare to cross.

The words get stuck in his throat.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Chuuya begins instead, chuckling. “I’ve never met anyone as optimistic as him before.”

Akutagawa nods hesitantly, stiff and unsure what to do because he couldn’t agree with Chuuya more. He doesn’t say anything.

“You okay?” Chuuya asks and Akutagawa stares at him.

“You won’t break his heart, right?” Akutagawa says out of the blue. Chuuya looks a little stunned at the sudden inquisition but smiles not long after.

“I don’t think I would be able to,” he replies. 

And though his eyes are downcast, Akutagawa knows from lifetimes of being his best friend that Chuuya is genuine. He didn't have to explain any further.

“Okay, yeah.” Akutagawa nods slowly. “Good. He’s naive. I don’t think I can watch him torture himself with another cycle of heartbreak again.”

Chuuya’s eyes twinkle. “You love him, don’t you?” 

It surprises Akutagawa, just a little, but he’s reminded of all those past lifetimes where this has happened before. Curse Chuuya and his stupid, near-inhuman ability to read people in a matter of seconds. 

“It’s okay. Perhaps in another lifetime. Atsushi seems happy with you and it’s a different happiness than it was with his other so-called boyfriends before you.”

Chuuya smiles at him. “Atsushi’s right. You really are an amazing friend.” 

And I have a feeling you’ll be good for Atsushi too, Akutagawa thinks but doesn’t say. He trusts Chuuya. He would trust him with his life. And if Atsushi were to be with someone else for the rest a lifetime, Akutagawa thinks that his heart would rest easy knowing that it’s with Chuuya. 

—

“Joint mission with the detective agency for Akutagawa Ryuunosuke!”

Akutagawa sighs. It is far too early in the morning for Chuuya’s boisterous voice to be ringing sirens in his ears. He slams a document down on the table in front of him. 

“Oh don’t give me that look. I know you like these,” Chuuya says, giving him a playful shove.

Akutagawa rolls his eyes. He’s living this life in the mafia. Surviving, somehow, due to something which the people of this lifetime call an ability. Rashomon, he calls it. It’s murderous and unforgiving and it had taken Akutagawa more than a while to learn how to control it.

Atsushi works in a rival organization. A detective agency of which Mori, the mafia boss, had warned them to hate. It’s a weird relationship they have– the mafia and the detective agency, that is. Like enemies with benefits or something, in the least weird way possible.

“When is it?” Akutagawa asks.

“Tonight. Some rogue ability user who’s been wreaking havoc,” Chuuya informs him. He shakes his head and laughs. “I still can’t believe you’re dating someone from the enemy organization, Akutagawa. I didn’t think you were the type to become a betrayer to the mafia.”

“Stop exaggerating,” Akutagawa says. “I’m still here aren’t I?”

Chuuya crosses his arms. “Yeah? Well not for long because soon enough you’ll be running off to join the detective agency just like that bandaged bastard.”

Akutagawa laughs quietly. It’s funny. Especially when Akutagawa knows that Dazai and Chuuya have been in multiple relationships together in past lives. Watching them bicker while knowing that fact is pure comedy gold.

“You could join me,” he jokes, shrugging. He has no intention of joining the agency. Not anytime soon, at least.

Chuuya looks appalled. “Fuck no! I’d rather bury myself alive than work with the idiot again,” he says, fuming. He pauses. “Tell the kid I say hi though. I’ve got nothing against him.”

He smiles. Lovers in their past life, mere acquaintances in this one. The universe really is unpredictable.

“I’ll do that,” Akutagawa says, and Chuuya nods.

—

Their arranged meeting spot is on a bridge overlooking the river. Akutagawa arrives just as Yokohama’s sky begins to turn into the first blends of yellows and purples. He feels restless with excitement just thinking about seeing Atsushi again and how beautiful Atsushi would look against the sky that matches his eyes so perfectly.

There’s always been an air of comfort around being in the city of Yokohama, perhaps because he’s spent so many lifetimes there before. It’s nice being able to protect the city that’s provided him with so much.

He feels a pair of warm hands on his shoulder and a brief kiss on his cheek. 

“Good evening, Ryuu,” Atsushi’s voice says, stepping up next to Akutagawa’s side. “How was your day?”

“Jinko,” he greets. “Good now that you’re here.”

Atsushi rolls his eyes fondly. “I told you not to call me that, you know.” He rests his arms upon the railing of the bridge, looking out towards the skyline. 

“Okay, then.” Akutagawa says. “Atsushi.”

There’s a soft breeze that blows his hair and Atsushi smiles wide before breaking out into a soft laugh. “It’s your first time saying my name and yet somehow it feels familiar…” he trails off.

Akutagawa almost caves, almost tells Atsushi that it’s because of all the other lives they’ve spent together– it has to be. He thinks Atsushi would understand. There’s always been an unspoken understanding between the two of them, even when they’re working at rival organizations. 

“Strange. I wonder why,” Akutagawa decides to say instead, turning to look at Atsushi.

He’s glowing, hair glistening silver, eyes sparkling gold, radiating happiness that can’t be rivalled, and Akutagawa is entranced again. 

“I like it though,” Atsushi says.

The sun leaves an iridescent path along the water as it gets lower in the sky. It’s so calm, so comfortable at that moment. Akutagawa would choose to live it over and over again if he could. With Atsushi of course. He knows this will be a nice memory to come back to.

“So, Atsushi… shall we go?” he asks, holding out a hand.

Atsushi takes one look at it, grins mischievously and dashes right past him. “Last one there buys dinner! I won’t cheat this time!” he exclaims and Akutagawa chuckles affectionately at his antics before chasing after him.

As exhausting as it is, he doesn’t want this to end. Somehow, Akutagawa knows that he would be willing to chase Atsushi through countless lifetimes until he can find one that’s made for them. 

He thinks that there’s a chance this could be the one. 

But even if it isn’t, Akutagawa has never been one to give up, and neither has Atsushi.

They would find each other again. A thousand times over, no question.