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Ryuunosuke was twenty when his psychiatrist has finally decided to diagnose him with psychotic depression, presumably because he barely eats, rarely slept for longer than three hours, frequently thought about death, and talks to a disembodied voice in his head called Rashomon.
And that was how Ryuunosuke found himself parked in front of the pharmacy with a My Chemical Romance single playing so loud that he could feel the bass through the seat. Chuuya always had a habit of playing music in nearly full volume, almost like he was trying to drown something in music. Not that Ryuunosuke cares about Chuuya’s car habits. Instead, he sniffs, letting out a deep exhale, his head was tilted upwards and his eyes were closed.
”You’re wasting our time, pick up your meds already,” Chuuya tells him. He picks a crumpled box of cigarettes in his pockets, plucking one of the white sticks, and placing them between his lips. He pressed the button to let the window down before lighting the cigarette with a lighter he picked from his other pocket. Chuuya hadn’t bothered turning down the music, which garnered some glares from some of the more older people that entered the pharmacy. Ryuunosuke had enough shame to consider quickly picking up his meds just so they could stop tormenting the people of the pharmacy with My Chemical Romance.
“I’m on it,” Ryuunosuke mutters before sighing. He unlocks his seatbelt, and turns to open the door. He makes sure not to hit the neighboring door on his way out before slamming the car door shut. Chuuya gives out a scolding hey which means he slammed it too hard again. He mutters an inaudible apology to this. Ryuunosuke pulls his black coat closer to his body before trudging inside the pharmacy.
It smelled sterile, it was bright and white. The shelves were fully stocked of things. And the line for prescription pick-up was not that long. Maybe one or two people were in line while one is being assisted by the only open window. Ryuunosuke was vaguely anxious of how he smelled, last he showered was the day before yesterday. But he thought that his coat would cover any body odor that he could possibly have. But just in case, he made sure to be three feet away from the last in line.
Ryuunosuke looks at the person last in line. He was a man around the same age as him, possibly younger. He had an interesting take on layers for hair, and it was all dead and dyed white. Ryuunosuke doesn’t really know how split ends look like, but he was sure that the boy had those. He dressed unique with his suspenders and dress shirt, and that awfully long belt that looked like a tail. Though Ryuunosuke couldn’t really judge anyone for dressing uniquely considering how he is dressed himself.
Maybe he felt someone staring at him, or something else like that. The man in front of Ryuunosuke turns and oh. The boy had the sky of the dawn for eyes with its purple and yellow. It was beautiful. They were like a pair of amirite marbles. It was as if the sunset stole his eyes for the sky every hour of the day because they envy its beauty. His eyes were gorgeous. And they were looking at Ryuunosuke.
”Um, can I help you?” The boy asks with a nervous tug at his sleeve.
Ryuunosuke took one last lingering glance at his eyes before looking away. “Nothing,” He replies with a particularly hard cough, and he sniffs.
The boy frowns before digging his hands in his pockets. He pulls out a black and white plaid handkerchief. “Here you go, there’s a bit of drool from your cough.” The boy gestures from the side of his lips down to his chin.
Ryuunosuke graciously accepts the handkerchief, and he wipes the bit of drool from his face. “Thank you.” He sniffs again, and pockets the handkerchief. He can’t possible return the dirty thing to the kind boy.
”No problem, don’t worry about it,” The boy replies with a small smile. Just as he said that, the person by the window had just finished their business. The next person follows. The boy and Ryuunosuke moved along the line.
Ryuunosuke moves his eyes to the lanyard that was hanging from his neck. The local university’s name was embroidered all over it, and what seems to be an identification card was hanging on it. He’s a student. Ryuunosuke also agrees he’s a student. His own memories of back when he was a student flashed in his mind, but he shakes the memories away. They were pointless now.
”The name’s Nakajima.” Ryuunosuke darts his attention from the lanyard to the boy’s face. His lips were curled, amused. “Nakajima Atsushi,” He adds.
”Akutagawa.” Except Ryuunosuke has no idea why he’s telling this boy his name. Just because he said his doesn’t mean he has to tell him his own. Well, what’s done is done. He could just not tell him his first name.
Nakajima nods. “Nice to meet you, Akutagawa.” He extends a hand for Ryuunosuke to shake. He frowns, but he returns the gesture and shook his hand. He hopes he doesn’t notice how rough his hands were, or notice the long nails that Ryuunosuke only remembers to cut when he bites his fingernails.
”Next, please!” Calls the woman from the counter. Atsushi pulls his hands away and gives Ryuunosuke one last look before walking to the window.
You like the boy. Ryuunosuke disagrees. He merely found his eyes beautiful, and his personality kind— as far as he knows. It was an odd scenario to pickup someone, isn’t it? Doing it while picking up his antidepressant and antipsychotic medication while his roommate was outside blasting My Chemical Romance. Chuuya was probably halfway through that cancer stick of his.
”I can take the next person!” A man opened up the window beside the one Nakajima was on. Ryuunosuke walks to the window.
”Date of birth?” The man asks.
”1 March 2002,” Ryuunosuke answers routinely. “For Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.”
The man typed something in his computer before nodding. “Yes, I have your medicine ready. 20 miligrams Fluoxetine and 20 miligrams Aripiprazole, correct?”
”Correct,” Ryuunosuke replies.
”Okay, let me check it out for you.” He then leaves to go do what he needed to do. Ryuunosuke pressed his lips into a thin line. The man was particularly loud when he asked about his medication. He hoped no one knows what Prozac or Abilify is, though he doubts an adult around his age doesn’t know what Prozac is. Ryuunosuke checks the neighboring window and finds it empty. Did you want to see the Nakajima boy? Ryuunosuke scrunches his eyebrows. So what if he did, if only to look at his eyes. Or maybe strike up another conversation. Ryuunosuke does not know why but he feels pulled towards Nakajima.
It was weird, probably another one of his delusions, honestly. He might just bring it up in his next therapy appointment.
”Okay, I have your medicine here with me.” The man suddenly pops in again. He has a bag that rattles whenever it was moved. “Do you need to know more about your medication like the side effects and all that?” Ryuunosuke shakes his head. The man nods and gives a professional smile. “Then that’s all, you’re good to go.”
Ryuunosuke grabs the bag of medicines and immediately darts for the exit. He steps foot outside of the pharmacy when he sees the recently familiar figure of Nakajima leaning on the wall beside the entrance of the pharmacy.
”Finally! Get in here, so we can go back home!” He hears Chuuya yell from the car, but Ryuunosuke ignores him. Instead, he puts his attention to Nakajima. He was shyly rubbing the back of his neck while he holds a phone with his other hand.
”I just wanted to stay in contact with you, I think you look cool with your coat and all that.” He tried to nonchalantly pass Ryuunosuke his phone. “If I could just have your number, erm, yeah.” He finishes awkwardly.
Chuuya honks, and Ryuunosuke still ignores him. He looks at the phone that was on the create a contact page. He bites his chapped lips and looks up to see Nakajima watching him attentively. He flashes a shy smile when he caught Ryuunosuke looking at him.
Why don’t you give him your number? Because this was all unusual. But it wasn’t a bad unusual. And Ryuunosuke was in an unusually great mood, most definitely because of Nakajima and the unknown string that he feels pulling himself towards the white-haired boy. So Ryuunosuke does the unusual, he types in his name and his number in the cellphone before giving it back to Nakajima.
Chuuya honks one more time, and this time Ryuunosuke doesn’t ignore him. “Text me first,” He tells Nakajima before walking towards the car. He hears a fucking finally from Chuuya while he unlocked the door. My Chemical Romance turned to Pierce the Veil while he was gone, and Ryuunosuke finds that he does not care for the loud music. From inside the car, he could see Nakajima standing dumbly by the entrance with a stupid grin on his face.
”Can’t believe you got hit on while you were picking up your meds.” Chuuya billows one last line of smoke before he squashes the cigarette on the ash tray and tossing it out the window. “That’s some teen movie type of shit.” He laughs.
”You’re just jealous ‘cause the only person who hits on you is Dazai,” Ryuunosuke mutters under his breath. Thankfully, Chuuya didn’t hear him so there were no long rants about the notorious Dazai Osamu the entire car ride.