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Ryuunosuke normally leaves the door to their apartment unlocked for Gin when she stays late at headquarters, and so she can’t help but be surprised when it isn’t. She doesn’t immediately go on the defensive since she knows her brother had only just gotten back from an assignment today, but it still strikes her as a bit odd.
The sight she’s met with when she turns on the dim lamp in the entryway? Well, that’s much more odd.
Atsushi Nakajima is sleeping comfortably on their sofa, Ryuu tucked safely under his chin with his mouth pressed lightly into Ryuu’s dark hair. She studies them for a moment, taking in how well they fit together. Like two pieces of a puzzle.
Then she notices something else, something that has her breath catching in her chest.
Because while she knows that Rashomon can erupt from any article of clothing that Ryuu wears, the fact he still seems relaxed despite his ever-present coat being thrown over the back of the couch—within arms reach yet still not quite close enough to touch—is beyond surprising.
But then again, Atsushi’s arms are wrapped around Ryuu so tightly that it’s almost like he’s unconsciously trying to act as a substitute for the coat; he's making sure that nobody will be able to take her brother away from him, nor will they have the chance to hurt him.
The amount of trust reflected in this seemingly simple display is almost hard for her to comprehend, and the emotions that flow through her at this realization are truly impossible to put into words.
She tries to be as quiet as she can while taking another few hesitant steps into the apartment, but Atsushi’s eyes snap open when she closes the door even still.
With the way his head is propped up on the arm of the sofa, it’s easy for them to make eye contact. It’s just as easy to decipher the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it look he gives her.
And it’s one that would send chills down a normal person's spine.
Sure, there’s a bit of instinctual fear there, but behind that fear is a flash of something she’s never seen from him before; the look in Atsushi’s eyes is cold and calculating, as if he’s completely on guard and ready to strike at the slightest hint of a threat.
It’s gone as quickly as it came, once it dawns on him that it’s just her. “Gin-san,” Atsushi finally says in greeting.
He seems completely relaxed now, which means he must be unaware of the defiant and steadfast air about him. The one that’s warning her that he won’t hesitate to go on guard again.
It must be the tiger in him; Gin is an unknown variable, an outsider, someone who isn’t Atsushi or Ryuu.
Someone they need to keep a close eye on.
So Gin stays completely still for a few moments. She is a statue, neither blinking nor breathing, and it isn’t until the tension in the air begins to wane that she returns to herself.
Atsushi remains none the wiser.
“Just Gin is fine, Atsushi,” she says as she steps into the slippers by the door before padding into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
Atsushi shakes his head minutely, after which she nods before making herself some. Other than the clinking of glasses and a small series of coughs from Ryuu, it’s completely silent. She can feel Atsushi’s eyes on her, where they remain even after she’s finally curled up on the seat across from the couch.
He clears his throat. “How are you?” he stutters.
She shifts her gaze down to blow on her coffee in an attempt to hide her laugh. She can’t help but find his awkwardness surprising, considering the past few minutes. “I think the better question would be how is Ryuu?”
Atsushi frowns. “What do you mean?”
Gin inclines her head toward them, pointedly looking down at Ryuu. “He has a bruise forming on his cheek. I can tell.”
It comes out detached, and she hates that — she knows that it’s safe to show worry about Ryuu in front of Atsushi. But hiding her feelings about him in the presence of anyone and everyone is so ingrained in her that she finds herself doing so even now.
Having to act like you don’t have a brother at all, even when standing right next to him, creates a muscle memory that runs deep.
“He refused to tell me what happened,” he starts, a statement that Gin is unsurprised to hear in the slightest, “but I checked, and it’s the only injury he has. He’ll be okay.”
She raises an eyebrow. “He let you check?” she asks, disbelief bleeding through her tone. “Really?”
Atsushi grimaces sheepishly. “Okay, I forced him to let me check.”
Gin’s lip twitches up. Atsushi hesitantly returns the gesture before he looks back down at Ryuu and begins lightly carding his fingers through his hair. Gin takes a sip of her coffee and simply watches them.
“He’ll be okay,” Atsushi repeats after a few minutes, low enough that she knows it wasn’t meant for her to hear.
He had said it for his own benefit, like he cares so much that he needs Ryuu to be okay. She doesn’t think anyone other than her has ever felt that way about her brother before.
Most of the adults in the slums didn’t care, too focused on trying to get by themselves, and the people outside of it certainly didn’t either. Gin remembers seeing them walk by with their nice clothes and even nicer jewelry, just as she remembers the way that their pretty smiles would turn into sneers whenever they saw people like her. How they were looked at as less than dirt.
Then Gin and Ryuu entered the mafia, where some things changed and some stayed the same.
Dazai never cared; Gin saw the state her brother would sometimes return to their apartment in when Dazai was still in the mafia. She knows how Dazai all but destroyed her brother, how he crafted him into whatever he wished. Now he has Ryuu obsessed with gaining his approval even now; he left the mafia but he left his mark.
Gin hates him. She keeps a tight lid on it and makes sure to stop herself from expressing it, but she hates him more than she’s ever hated anyone.
She’s torn from her thoughts when she hears Ryuu release a series of quiet coughs. Atsushi’s response to them makes her wish she hadn’t been.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he starts to whisper, gently running his hand up and down Ryuu’s back. “Just let it out. It’s okay.”
And even though they fall on deaf ears, Atsushi continues to repeat the words like a mantra until Ryuu is finally breathing clearly again. With a sigh of relief, Atsushi kisses the crown of Ryuu’s head.
When he looks up a moment later, his eyes widen and his cheeks flush a little. It’s clear Atsushi had forgotten that she was there to witness everything he has done, and for some reason his bashful expression makes her want to laugh.
Atsushi shifts to prop himself up the slightest bit more. “Gin, I—”
He’s cut off by Ryuu, who makes a small, distressed noise at the movement. The hand he has resting on Atsushi’s chest clenches, squeezing the fabric tightly, and Atsushi stops moving immediately. Making sure to leave one arm wrapped around Ryuu’s body, Atsushi gently rests his free hand over Ryuu’s before lightly caressing the tight fingers with his thumb. It takes only a few seconds of Atsushi doing this for Ryuu to become relaxed again.
Relaxed. Just like earlier; in that same way she’s seldom seen before.
It’s almost funny, Gin thinks with no small amount of awe, the way that even in sleep they both refuse to be separated; just as Atsushi had his arms around Ryuu to make sure wasn’t taken away from him earlier, it seems as if her brother is now trying to make sure he isn’t taken away from Atsushi. Like Atsushi is someone he knows he’s safe with, someone he trusts won’t let anything happen to him.
Atsushi, the boy who has both knowingly and unknowingly caused her brother so much torment, who has sat on the sidelines and watched as the people he respects did the same, is now protecting him in ways she can’t.
It’s this knowledge that compels her to do what she does next — to breach the topic she refuses to leave untouched, especially now that they’re alone to talk.
“You almost killed him, once,” she remarks quietly, and it takes a conscious effort to keep her voice from trembling.
She hears Atsushi’s quiet gasp. He pulls Ryuu closer as he nods minutely, careful not to hit her brother’s head with his own, before looking deep into her eyes. “Yes,” he whispers, like a confession, “I did.”
There’s a flash of anguish on his face as he says it, but his voice remains steady and his gaze doesn’t waver. She appreciates it. She respects it.
But that doesn’t mean she’s finished.
“You put him into a coma,” Gin continues, a reminder as well as a segue, “during which other people almost killed him.”
Atsushi blinks at her as if he’s not sure he heard her right. No, as if he’s hoping he didn’t hear her right. “Oh,” he breathes after a long pause, voice small and hurt.
Gin manages a small smile and takes another sip of her coffee, lukewarm by this point, so as to let her words and their implications sink in.
“But he’s still alive, and you’re here,” Gin reminds him softly. “You’re here, in our apartment, holding my brother like he’s something precious to you.”
Atsushi's hand freezes where it had resumed running soothing circles on Ryuu’s back.
“And Ryuu fell asleep with you as his only company.” She swallows loudly. “He's not wearing his coat, and yet he looks more relaxed than I can remember seeing him in a long time.”
To her surprise, Atsushi doesn’t say anything for quite awhile.
“It’s… different now,” he finally murmurs. “I don't know when things changed between us and I don't know how. I certainly don’t know why.” He laughs wetly. “But…”
Atsushi presses his mouth to Ryuu’s hair for a moment in a move that, while not a kiss, is undoubtedly just as intimate. He closes his eyes.
The silence that reigns between them now is much different than the one previous — this one is heavy with unspoken words and feelings seldom voiced. Gin waits patiently.
He takes a deep breath, shaky and uncertain, before looking back up at her. “I love him, Gin,” he croaks, voice full of emotion. “I really, really love him.”
She feels a bit of moisture building behind her eyes, and her heart feels so full she’s afraid that it might burst out of her chest completely; she knows that he is telling her the truth, because for all the emotions Atsushi has shown her tonight, there’s something different about the expression he has on his face right now. It’s so open and intimate, so utterly raw, that it can’t be anything but genuine.
Gin doesn’t think that she’s ever seen somebody gaze at another person with as much love as Atsushi does when he looks at Ryuu.
Such a claim is even further proven true when Atsushi goes on to gently, oh so gently, tuck a loose strand of Ryuu’s hair back behind his ear.
Gin takes a moment to catch her breath as she stares, unseeing, at the table between them. All of a sudden she feels like she isn’t supposed to be here. She feels like an outsider in her own home, like she just witnessed something that wasn’t meant for her; there are some things, Gin has learned, that you just shouldn’t observe.
“I’ll let you go back to sleep,” she says as she places her cup on the table and stands up. “I apologize for waking you up.”
Atsushi shakes his head. “No, please don’t be sorry. I—” he pauses, obviously considering what to say. “I’m glad.”
Gin’s confusion must be showing on her face, because Atsushi is quick to elaborate.
“That I got to talk to you,” he says. “I’m glad.”
Oh, she thinks before slowly nodding. “I am too, Atsushi,” she whispers as she heads over to the lamp.
“Wait, Gin,” he calls softly. She looks at him. “I’ll protect him. He’s safe with me.”
She turns off the light to hide her smile, because she believes him.