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Sweet Cakes and Civil People

Summary:

Akutagawa's birthday, over the story of a few moments during a few hours.

(And a little look into a member of a cycle that knows only how to let someone go and not how to escape.)

Notes:

i mean. im only 4 minutes late. this counts.

 

(edit: okay i wasn't late i just completely lost track of time.)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

12:08.

Ryuunosuke was planning on sleeping through the first few hours of his birthday. The day didn’t mean much in the first place, and the less time he got to spend with Tachihara’s antics, the better. Higuchi had figured out that it was his birthday today god knows how and that’s just another thing he’ll have to deal with. 

If Mori doesn’t need him for anything, then he’ll be able to sleep in until nine. If he sleeps until nine, then that means that he will only have to deal with them for 15 hours, tops. And then it will no longer be his birthday and Ryuunosuke will not have to concern himself with things like birthday celebrations and cakes and such. It’s already enough to have his stomach curdle whenever Higuchi looks at him with a sparkle in her eyes. He doesn’t need positive attention like that.

Ryuunosuke doesn’t need any attention at all.

He curls into his sheets, making sure that the two blankets he uses stay over him. Keeping the blankets over his feet aren’t as important due to his thick socks, but he still wants them. Sometimes Ryuunosuke buries his body under his blankets and breathes in the shadows. His body temperature is naturally low, but under the sheets it’s as if his body is an oven. Like an embrace. 

Ryuunosuke buries his head into his pillow and starts counting. 

He gets to five before his phone buzzes on his nightstand. Ryuunosuke frowns, confused. He has just about everyone who dared to give him their contact information either on mute or blocked (Tachihara and Higuchi). And Gin was asleep, Ryuunosuke had just checked on them less than an hour ago.

Ryuunosuke groans, using Rashomon to grab his phone. He does not have the control to use Rashomon to work with the delicate material of his phone without smashing it to pieces so he has to be assaulted by blue light as he opens his phone. 

The number is unknown to him, but as he suspected, it’s a message. All it says is happy birthday but there’s something else the preview doesn’t show. He opens his phone with a low grunt, tapping in his passcode and checking the full message. 

happy birthday

 

kyouka

Ryuunosuke stares, blue light searing his eyes as his stomach drops out from underneath him. Of all people, her? His fingers curl around his phone. Is that all she is going to say? Should I wait for something more? Do I deserve to hear anything from her?

Ryuunosuke is aware that he made a mistake when Kyouka was in his care—that the whole thing was a mistake from beginning to end. Mistake upon mistake upon mistake that Ryuunosuke does not know how to define or fix. He curls into himself as bile raises in his throat. He taught Kyouka the best way he could. The best way he knew how. 

Kyouka was only a child. 

What does it matter if Ryuunosuke was basically only a child as well—he should have known better. He knows when something hurts and knows what it looks like to see someone in pain. Ryuunosuke does not know how to heal wounds (all he did was wait until a scar formed).

He’s glad she’s with people that do. Sometimes he sees her down the street, working on a case or shopping with an Agency member. One time, Ryuunosuke saw her alone. She was holding a envelope that was clearly full of money in front of her. Her eyes were locked on it, determined to keep it from being pickpocketed. 

Ryuunosuke made a step toward her, and had the errant thought: what kind of surprise with a potential thief get? What a surprise that would be, to attempt to steal from a child before getting cut in half by a ghostly samurai? Then he stopped mid-step. 

No, Kyouka would not do that. Not now.

Only when she was under me.

Then he had left without speaking to her. 

Ryuunosuke had an innate misunderstanding of the person that was Kyouka Izumi. She was not like him, and never would be. Not because Ryuunosuke was not Dazai. Ryuunosuke was sure that even if he had been the same to her that the man was to him, Kyouka would be different. There was something good in Kyouka’s core. Ryuunosuke had smothered it, but even the smallest bit of hope made her shine. 

Ryuunosuke was proud of her. He didn’t deserve to be, but he was. 

Kyouka was brighter than he would ever be. She would go farther than him, and leave him behind.

“All you did was make her worse.” Gin whispers into his ear, “If you had taught her different, if you had been better, she would have gone farther. You hate Dazai-san so much for hurting you, but you did it right back to her.” Their hands rest on his shoulderblades, long hair brushing against the back of his neck, “You are barely better than him.”

“Might as well be not at all.” Another voice adds. Ryuunosuke doesn’t get to pin it down before it raises in indignation, crackling with rage in a way he’s only heard once before, “She was put in your care! Why not mine! I could have shown every her true potential. She would have liked being under me. I would have taken care of her.”

If she was still here, she might be dead by now. Ryuunosuke thought to himself but didn’t dare tell the executive. There’s nothing he could say to her to make her understand, so it was best to keep his big mouth shut. It does not matter how many people he may command, or who might bend their ear to listen. Anything he says is meaningless, all he needs to do is what he is told to do.

No, I don’t—a small voice in his head screams before a new voice joins the fray. 

He feels his presence, staring at the thin, delicate skin of his back. Once, Dazai told him that he could play his spine like an instrument. That he would if Ryuunosuke kept messing up. Rashomon wouldn’t protect him, Dazai would tear out his spinal nerves and string them up. And he would play music better than anything Ryuunosuke had ever done.

He was joking, of course. 

‘Of course I was joking.’ He told his partner when Gin’s resolve had broken down after a few weeks when they could touch him or even poke his back without him yelling at them. When every touch and even looks had him spiraling, ‘He’s more worth to me than that. After all, I don’t even like music.’

That’s all it was—a joke that Ryuunosuke was dumb enough to believe. He believed a lot of things in that dank warehouse, floor slick with sweat and sticky with blood. He’s believed a lot of things in a lot of warehouses. 

“She’s in my hands now. Better hands than mine, right?” Dazai asks with a sneer, “You had no potential, I had to mold you into something worth anything.” Suddenly, his voice turns cold, truth dripping off his every word, “I wish I had gotten Kyouka instead of you. Working with you was compressing a coal into a diamond. All that needed to be done to her was a little polishing. Isn’t it so nice that I get to work with dirty diamond now? Instead of being given chaff like you.

“You couldn’t even listen to me.” 

Cold fingers touch the base of his spine, tapping once before nails dig into the thin skin there and push past muscle and and meat to wrap around his spine—Ryuunosuke screams and screams and screams but he can’t turn around, he can’t or else he’ll look weak and then he’ll probably make everything even worse. No one is going to help him, but everyone will stand around and watch. And people will turn their heads or glare at his mentor or get bandages for when Ryuunosuke is no longer in pain. But Ryuunosuke is always in pain and all anyone is going to do is watch. 

There’s a flash of blue and Ryuunosuke opens his eyes. His phone rests on his fingertips. His thrashing must have dislodged it, waking the device up. 

Ryuunosuke knows that he was dreaming. It’s all clear now—why else would Kouyou and Dazai be in his room? They had other places to be. And Gin was in the next room over—well, Gin was knocking on his door now. It was all a figment of his wild imagination. Of course when he touches his neck, there’s nothing but a single scar.

“Ryuunosuke, either tell me you’re okay or I break down your door.”

“I’m fine!” Ryuunosuke snaps, “What’s with you and breaking down doors lately? I swear, if you learn this sort of thing from Tachihara, I will kill him.”

Gin just huffs and Ryuunosuke can just about hear them rolling their eyes, “No, you won’t. And he didn’t teach me anything…are you sure that you’re okay, brother?”

The attention is suffocating.

“I’m fine, Gin. I promise. I just had a bad dream.” Ryuunosuke lets out a loud, exaggerated yawn, “I’m going back to bed.”

“...Okay then. Happy birthday.” Gin adds before they leave his door. Ryuunosuke watches the shadow under his door to make sure they’re gone.

3:51 his phone says.

Ryuunosuke buries himself under the blanket and prays that when he is next aware, he is waking up.

7:04.

The Port Mafia headquarters has its cold floors. The fourth floor is always cold, but Ryuunosuke is sure that is because the cleaners refuse to fix the heaters. They have feigned ignorance for so much, the least they could do is pretend that the thing growing mold in the corner of the maintenance room isn’t a body. It’s not as if they haven’t seen bodies before.

“What are you doing here so early?” Chuuya asks, peering down at him. There isn’t an opportunity for that often, but Ryuunosuke has wedged himself under a desk in one of the meeting rooms and has no intention to come out for a least a few more hours. 

“Didn’t want to sleep.” Ryuunosuke says curtly, scrolling through his phone. He is aware of his attitude, just as he is aware that Chuuya knows to give him space, “And I don’t want to be here either. Why are you here?” He asks, eyes still on his phone. He stares at a picture of Gin, the first picture that he ever took on a phone. 

They’re smiling, wearing a ballgown that they wanted but didn’t have the money to buy because they just joined the mafia. Soon the dress was forgotten, but Ryuunosuke didn’t forget. It’s still in the store, but it doesn’t suit Gin. It never suited Gin. 

“I was called in about four to oversee something. I was going to leave until one of the grunts mentioned that you were here.” Chuuya responds as he sits on the desk Ryuunosuke is sitting under, “And I thought that was strange.”

“This building has eighteen floors. How did you know I was here?” Ryuunosuke says, enlarging the photo to look at the lace on the dress. He wonders if Chuuya would have ever stopped him from mentoring Kyouka if he watched them less. Ryuunosuke wonders if Chuuya would have stepped in if he didn’t know what Ryuunosuke was doing. Ryuunosuke doesn’t think he would—he didn’t stop Dazai when he knew what his partner was doing. 

It takes him a few moments to notice that Chuuya hasn’t answered. After a few seconds more, he finally answers, “It was a lucky guess.”

Ryuunosuke wants to call him a liar, but then Chuuya offers to take him out for breakfast and it would be rude to reject. 

Not that Ryuunosuke is afraid of being rude—the executive has a nice car that gets them to the good breakfast places fast. The ones that have french toast and cinnamon rolls drizzled in syrup and chocolate and no one knows who he is and there is no one to laugh at him or tell him that he’s eating too many sweets.

Well, there’s Chuuya, but he doesn’t do that. It would be a bit hypocritical of him after all—he starts every breakfast with a cup of black coffee and by the end he’s stolen half of Ryuunosuke’s food because he isn’t the only one who grew up starved of sugar.

Ryuunosuke rests his head on his hands, letting the spring air come in through the small diner’s windows. He is warm with good food and good company. Chuuya nudges his foot to keep him from falling asleep.

“I’m fine. I’m awake. I slept well.” Ryuunosuke says, brushing off Chuuya’s questions and concerned gaze, “I’m not going to fall asleep. Whatever Gin told you, they’re lying. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chuuya’s blue gaze says that he’s lying. It looks him up and down and Ryuunosuke can’t even begin to number how many things about him prove his words wrong. 

“Happy birthday.” Chuuya says instead, giving Ryuunosuke a small smile, “I’ll give you your present when we get back to the office. If you want anything on the way back, just ask.”

Ryuunosuke gives Chuuya a flat look. 

He does not ask for anything on the way back.

12:03.

If he had known that Higuchi was going to have a minor emergency and be late, then he would have pretended to sleep for even longer.

If he had known that the ‘minor emergency’ was her getting a birthday cake sent directly up to his room then he would have just joined Hirotsu on his smoke break. Or jumped out of the window—no there was Hirotsu. The traitor was in the back of the room. Wearing a birthday hat. He even had a noisemaker hanging out of his mouth.

Hirotsu winks as their eyes meet, blowing it. It made a low, intensely irritating sound. 

Ryuunosuke blinks once, twice, and thrice to try and contain his anger. Then the door opens and in comes Chuuya with a bright smile and a birthday hat on top of his regular hat. Ryuunosuke returns his smile and tries to pretend that he’s not seeing red.

(“Eugh.” Tachihara says.)

“Okay everyone!” Higuchi says, just about bouncing around the room, “On the count of three!”

“No—”

“One!”

“Higuchi, I swear—

“Two, three!”

“Happy birthday—” They all start off-key. And at different times. Ryuunosuke can only stare in horror at the people that surround him. Only Hirotsu looks like he’s doing this the least bit sarcastically. Ryuunosuke gets up and glances at the window behind him. Before he can use Rashomon, Chuuya’s hand lands on his shoulder and pushes him back down into his chair. 

By the time they get to his name, Ryuunosuke is ready to accept death. 

“Happy birthday to you!”

“I am docking all your pay.”

“No you are not.” Chuuya says quickly, shooting him down, “Blow out the candles on your cake.” 

Ryuunosuke regrets joining the mafia. All of it. Everything that led him here.

He glares at them as he leans down, blowing out the candles. It takes him two tries because his lungs sputter the first time but they all cheer when he blows them all out regardless. Ryuunosuke realizes the heat on his face was not from the candles. 

4:05.

“Are you feeling better now, Akutagawa-senpai?” Higuchi asks. Ryuunosuke glares at her through the bottled water she just gave him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the cake would make you sick!” She wails as if the sky is falling down and not like it wasn’t Ryuunosuke who made the mistake of eating a sugary breakfast and then three slices of cake. The only reason he didn’t eat four was because he nearly popped. 

“Ugh.” Tachihara groans, before there’s a tapping sound, “You’re up.”

Gin makes a similar sound before they move their piece next.

“You’re in check, Tachihara.” Hirotsu points out.

“Fuck I’m in check.” Tachihara hisses. Then, “Ouch.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have had a cake-eating contest. That goes for you too, Gin. I expected better of both of you.”

Ryuunosuke doesn’t even need to be looking at him to know that Tachihara is silently parroting Hirotsu.

“Higuchi. Leave me be.” Ryuunosuke shoes Higuchi away, “I do not need your assistance for the time being. You are free to go.”

He has peace for about five minutes before Higuchi bursts into the room. Ryuunosuke cracks his eye open and wishes that he was back under that desk on the third floor.

“Akutagawa-senpai! You have mail! From the weretiger!” Higuchi exclaims. They would all jump to their feet if they weren’t weighed down by all the dessert they just ate. As it is, only Hirotsu gets up to check the package, “I’ve already checked it for explosives!”

“Why would he send us explosives?” Tachihara mutters under his breath, “Checkmate.”

There’s another tap.

“Fuck.” Tachihara says as Hirotsu opens the top of the box. He peers inside and then immediately takes it out of Higuchi’s hands. He looks so intensely suspicious that Ryuunosuke gets up.

“It is nothing important.” Hirotsu insists, bringing the box closer to his chest, “Just a small box filled with nothing important.”

“But it is a gift for me, why are you keeping it from me?” Ryuunosuke snaps, before using Rashomon to tear the box away. As could be expected, it shakes during the transfer and as could not be expected, candy bars fall out. Not the good type—clearly Atsushi had gotten the cheap stuff that one would find with kids and convenience stores. But still chocolate.

Hirotsu groans when he sees the look in the eyes of the children that he’s been put with. 

(The envelope that was in the box goes unnoticed, and will be found the following day.)

7:43.

You’re not fight for any missions today. Go back home.

Tell the same to the rest of them

and thank Hirotsu for making sure that you guys only have mild stomachaches

Ryuunosuke, of course, does not acknowledge the snippy tone of Chuuya’s test and slips out before anyone notices. He’ll text Gin and to tell everyone they can do home, but he needs to clear his head. And a walk to help his stomach because he has not eaten a single thing with any nutritional value all day.

It’s only when he’s a good half hour away from everything that he smiles to himself. It’s small and lopsided, but there’s no one around to judge him for it. He is twenty-two years old and his birthday went well. He spent it with people that he likes, and he has presents waiting for him at home. 

And Kyouka texted him in the morning. The first time she’s ever texted him.

Ryuunosuke hasn’t know what to say to her. That’s not irregular—he hasn’t ever known what to say to Kyouka, that isn’t changing anytime soon. Sometimes he wonders if Dazai is the same when it comes to him, but he always dismisses the thought. Dazai is nothing like him.

And he wants to be nothing like Dazai, either. 

If only he knew how. 

Ryuunosuke starts a message…

11:50.

and sends it hours later.

Thank you. How did you day go? I spent mine well. I did not have any work to do. I had a nice chocolate cake and some chocolate that Atsushi sent me. Did you know that Atsushi was sending me a gift? Did you advise him?

fine. didn’t you train? no. i mentioned that time you missed training because you ate too much chocolate and gave yourself a stomachache once. or twice.

Ryuunosuke wonders if Kyouka genuinely does not care for him or if she’s just acting like a teenager. He can answer the first one easily, but not the second. He didn’t get to be an unruly teenager who constantly undermined his elders under Dazai. It just wasn’t safe to do so. And when Dazai left, there was no one over him to undermine. Just an entire world for him to vent his anger on. 

So maybe it’s both.

The gift was nice. 

you didn’t expect me to text

No.

i knew it.

Ryuunosuke closes his eyes as he types his next words, hitting send before he can read what he’s written and regret it.

I’b soeet. 

what

I’m sorry.

Kyouka’s reply takes a few minutes to come through, Ryuunosuke feels his birthday draw closer and closer to its end.

i don’t forgive you

That’s okay. 

I don’t expect you to.

It is just something I needed to say.

i hope you didn’t make yourself sick this time

 

12:00.

Notes:

*whips* if i got any dates or ages in the timeline wrong, no i didn't. you can't prove me wrong because i am stuffing cotton in my ears and going la la la very loudly

 

(and another edit! just because akutagawa blames himself for what he does to kyouka doesn't mean it's entirely his fault. i know that this seems obvious to you dear reader—but i have gotten some distilled twitter drama so i feel inclined to say—not knowing how to be better is a reason to be abusive. it is a valid reason, but it is not a reason to try and better yourself. it's hard to apologize, but it is something that must be done regardless.

if you're thinking "wow, that seems...obvious" stay away from bsdtwt. and bsdtiktok. find bsd with a group of friends because you would not BELIEVE—)