Chapter Text
Atsushi sighed at the sight in front of him, slamming his door harsher than he intended.
Akutagawa sat on Atsushi’s futon expectedly, back straight, legs crossed.
The first time Atsushi was…surprised, he shrieked so loud that Dazai inquired what activities he had been up to the night before. Ever since the Port Mafia and the Agency worked together to defeat Decay of the Angel, Akutagawa has become a regular visitor, though Atsushi couldn’t figure out why.
“I’m home.”
“Welcome back,” Akutagawa replied simply.
Atsushi held up his bag of ingredients toward the other, “Do you want some chazuke?”
Wrinkling his nose, Akutagawa assessed the bag warily and shrugged. Atsushi headed to the kitchen and began preparing his favorite food, hoping to forget about his visitor. His day had been too stressful to deal with other problems. As he started preparing the rice, he recalled the eventful shootout between the Agency and former Guild members, and winced when he reached to grab two bowls.
“What happened?” Too observant, Akutagawa stood up and walked to the lackluster kitchen, taking the bowls from Atsushi and chopping onions.
Atsushi sighed, “Not much. Just the usual. I’ve had worse.”
Wordlessly, Akutagawa grabbed the were-tiger and pulled him to the futon and began preparing the meal for him. Atsushi finally let himself relax and laid down, feeling every ache and bruise he acquired after the night’s battle. After a beat of silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you cooking for me?”
“You burned your food last time. Wasting ingredients like that on your budget is pitiful.” Atsushi thought he was dreaming, because he saw a light rosy hue lining the others’ neck and face. He smiled to himself and drifted to sleep, surrounded by the smell of rice cooking and fragrant tea steeping that definitely didn’t belong to him. Sleep overtook him too easily.
Atsushi didn’t know how much time had passed, but he bristled when he felt arms around his waist…and legs? Confused, he tried turning around, but the restraint held strong, keeping him from maneuvering too far. He looked down to see a faint glow from Rashamon around his legs and familiar arms around his waist. Gentle breaths fanned his nape, and he shivered at the featherlight touches.
“Go back to sleep,” the raspy voice behind him whispered.
“But I’m hungry,” Atsushi whispered back, feeling as if anything louder would break the tension that filled the room.
A sigh from behind and some shuffling led to the warmth enveloping him being stripped away. “Give me a minute. Don’t fall asleep again.” It was dark in the room, but Atsushi swore he felt a hand card through his hair gently. He swiftly grabbed the hand in his hair and hated how his voice cracked.
“Wait. Don’t leave.”
Akutagawa chuckled low, the sleep still not quite gone from his voice, “Are you hungry or do you want to sleep?”
Atsushi pouted, though he didn’t think he’d be able to sense it in the dark, “I want both. Today was rough.”
There was silence for what felt like hours, but in reality had lasted less than a minute, and then the familiar cascade of red washed over the room, and Rashamon enveloped Atsushi’s form, the touch far more gentle from the prior battles between the two…whatever they were. He wanted to speak, and watched as Akutagawa’s silhouette walked into the kitchen and heated up the tea, grabbing the bowls that he had put away to save for later. The almost tender touch, surprisingly warm, almost lulled him to sleep, but Atsushi willed himself to stay awake. He watched as Akutagawa worked in preparing the dish again.
“Why are you doing this for me?” Atsushi cursed himself for asking, but a part of him felt he didn’t deserve this kind treatment, not after the incident and Akutagawa’s almost-death. Sure, they were able to fix it in the end, but he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Akutagawa didn’t reply, instead unwrapping Rashamon from around his form and walking over with two bowls in hand.
“Eat.” He sat both bowls down and crossed his legs, sitting up straight as he had done when Atsushi first entered the dorm.
Miffed, Atsushi just began eating, letting his frustration build as he ate his helping, getting even more angry because it ruined the experience of eating the chazuke that was not burned in the slightest. He would even go so far as to compare it to the restaurant down the street that is the Agency’s collective favorite place.
He slammed the bowl down as he swallowed his last bite, feeling confrontational and confused at Akutagawa’s behavior.
“Why have you been coming over? After how we lost? How can you just come over and act like it didn’t happen?” Atsushi didn’t yell, but his voice cracked and he couldn’t help the desperate way he pleaded, wanting answers more than anything. The stress had been building for weeks since he stopped at the dorm the first time.
“Why does it matter? We haven’t fought in over six months. Why can’t you just let things be?” Akutagawa’s voice held the same pleading tone, but Atsushi couldn’t help the words that came out of his mouth next.
“Weren’t you supposed to kill me by now? Instead, you’re the one who ended up dying, and it was because of me. Our plan didn’t work. Why did Dazai pick us to work together?” His breathing quickened, the panic rising in his chest.
Akutagawa stood up, turning away from the tiger, bowl barely touched, “If you can’t see it, I think it’s best that we go back to how things were.” Before Atsushi could reply, Akutagawa had slammed the front door, leaving him alone beneath the moonlight.