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It’s pouring outside when Akutagawa hears the knock on his apartment door. It has been for hours now. Who would be bothering him in this weather, at this late an hour? He’s on guard and wary. He’s made many enemies, could someone have come to get revenge? No matter. If someone has come to hurt him, he will simply make sure they don’t get that opportunity. He quietly goes over to peer out through the peephole as the person on the other side knocks again. Akutagawa freezes as he sees who’s on the other side. Dazai. He hasn’t visited his apartment since he was his mentor in the Port Mafia, and even then it was rare and only when he was particularly upset with him and thought it would be more effective and satisfying to punish him in front of his sister. His heart is racing now. What’s he doing here? Why did he come to see him? Fear and excitement and anticipation and anxiety all rush through his mind.
“Akutagawa! You here?”
He knocks again.
Akutagawa tries to compose himself and opens the door, staring blankly at the other man.
“Ahhh, thank goodness, it was pouring out there, I thought you’d never let me in.”
Dazai closes his soaked umbrella and removes his shoes as he enters the young man’s apartment. He’s able to act so casual around Akutagawa, even after everything.
“Dazai… What are you doing here?”
“Ah, just had some information to pass on to your organization. Where’s Gin?”
“She’s out on a mission. She won’t be back until tomorrow night… Why me?”
“Hm?”
“Why are you taking the information directly to me?”
“I don’t want to talk to Mori if I don’t have to. You’re the easiest for me to get a hold of, anyway.”
“What’s the information?”
Dazai hands him a sealed envelope.
“We recently learned of a crime organization trying to rise up in the area. They’re still weak and pathetic, but we know they’ll want to cause problems for both the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia. We gathered some intel on them and thought it would be best to share. Fukuzawa wanted me to pass this along to Mori. Could you make sure he gets it?”
Akutagawa takes the envelope, his fingers lightly brushing against Dazai’s.
“I’ll make sure this gets to him, Dazai.”
“Okay, thanks!”
Dazai turns to head out the door. Akutagawa is unable to stop his own hands from acting, from grabbing the other man’s wrist.
“Wait!”
Dazai looks at him, baffled.
“Akutagawa? What is it?”
“I…”
What is it? What’s wrong? Akutagawa is wondering that himself.
“I… You just got here. The weather is awful outside. You can wait it out here, if you want.”
What is he saying?
Dazai laughs. Akutagawa flinches as his hand reaches up to rest on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me at all!”
He turns around again, and Akutagawa catches his wrist again.
He can’t. He can’t leave. Not like last time.
Dazai doesn’t laugh. Akutagawa can’t tell what he’s thinking. He can never tell what he’s thinking, and he hates it. And he hates the way he pulls Dazai towards him, and he hates the way he grabs the man’s hair with his other hand, and he hates the way he pulls his face closer to his, and he hates the way Dazai’s mouth tastes like poison as it touches his own mouth. And he keeps tasting him over and over, tracing his lips with his thumb as he pulls back and stares into the man’s dark eyes. They are cold and empty. He has never been able to see into them. The man puts up no resistance as his jacket is pushed off his shoulders, his tie undone, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled off his arms, and he offers no resistance as he’s pulled into a tight embrace, fingernails digging into his flesh so deep that blood is drawn.
“Remove your bandages. I want to see all of you.”
“It’s quite rude to ask that of someone.”
“I told you, I want you to remove them. Now.”
Dazai hesitates and stares at him coldly. But after a moment, he obeys his orders. He carefully unwraps his neck and shoulders, and then his arms, revealing a visible record of self loathing and disgust depicted in scars and cuts scrawled all over him. Akutagawa has never seen him like this, so exposed and naked and completely vulnerable. Dazai doesn’t let anyone see him. Even his beloved new pet Atsushi Nakajima has surely never seen him this closely. Akutagawa takes Dazai in his arms again, holding him tightly, as if he’ll vanish like mist the moment he lets go. He’s done it before. The man is a master of disappearing from the lives of those who respect him most. Akutagawa is surprised he hasn’t done it to his new mentee.
“My new subordinate is vastly superior to you.”
He finds his mouth pressed against the other man’s mouth, biting his lip, then moving down to his neck. He digs in his fingernails even deeper now, clawing and scratching at his back. If Dazai had gotten to leave so many marks on him in the past, maybe now it’s Akutagawa’s turn to return the favor. Both men excel at expressing themselves through pain and scars. It’s all they know. They have the darkest blood the Port Mafia’s ever seen, black as oil and burning like fire, only knowing how to hurt and be hurt, and hurt again until it spreads like a wildfire to all it touches. Harsh words spat on you in old warehouses, bruises and broken ribs and bleeding noses, this is what Dazai and Akutagawa are familiar with. It was how they always communicated with each other. But now Dazai has fled to the world of light, leaving behind a frail boy who fears him as a god. The boy now leads the god to his bed, shedding his own clothes in shame and a moment of new weakness that has overcome him. He touches himself as the other man lays in his bed, looking weak and ravaged as he gives in to the whims of someone else. He looks down at the man’s face, the face he always sees when he touches himself like this, the face he sees even as he sleeps, haunting him like a ghost. Dazai had always seemed so big and powerful, but now Akutagawa realizes he is just a sad pathetic child like he is. The two boys stare at each other’s naked bodies, awkward and vulnerable and hungry, wondering how they had gotten to be adults, wondering if they had ever truly gotten to be children. Children aren’t supposed to beat other children half to death in warehouses, but Dazai had still technically been a child when he almost killed Akutagawa for the first time. Akutagawa feels shame as he pulls his former mentor’s legs tightly around his hips, shame as he pins his hands to the bed, shame as he goes into him. But shame doesn’t stop his body, his hands, his mouth from trying to feel every last inch of Dazai. He melds into the other man and they become one, and he can barely distinguish himself anymore. He recalls memories of being pinned down in that warehouse, covered in blood and sweat, but now Dazai lies pinned beneath him, having to relinquish all control. Akutagawa feels sick at the twisted satisfaction he feels when he realizes Dazai is giving himself over to his instincts and feeling pleasure that he’s finding harder and harder to contain. His mouth kissing his neck elicits a gasp, and his movements cause him to moan. Dazai’s back arches and he twitches, unable to contain himself. How ashamed and embarrassed he must feel that the scrawny kid he had deemed as worthless is now causing him to feel this elated and satisfied. Akutagawa hopes this is a shameful experience for him. He hopes he’ll go home feeling sickness and regret and humiliation. And this makes Akutagawa feel sickness and regret and humiliation. Despite everything, every awful way he suffered because of Dazai, he wants him to feel happiness now. And he hates it. He hates that he feels this way about the person who ruined and abandoned him, why does he care so much, why does he smile when he sees him laughing and smiling with the boy he was replaced with, why does he drop everything in order to rush to his side and help him, why do his hands and mouth run over his body now, why does he catch himself thinking of him and wishing for him every treacherous second of the day and night?
His hands are clasped around Dazai’s throat, and all he can think about is that he could kill his former mentor if he wanted to. And Dazai’s eyes tell him he wouldn’t care if he was killed by his former apprentice tonight, lying vulnerable and naked beneath him. Maybe he knows this is the kind of sad end he deserves. It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? If anyone deserves to kill Dazai…
A tear drops on Dazai’s cheek, and Akutagawa realizes it’s his tear, his eyes are wet and red and his face is warm. He’s crying. He’s crying and he hates himself so much for it. He collapses on top of the other man, holding onto him tightly. His breathing is shaky and raspy and he feels like throwing up. Dazai does nothing to comfort him, but just lays there.
Akutagawa lays curled beside Dazai, his arm hugging him tightly, afraid to let go.
“Akutagawa…”
Akutagawa holds on even tighter.
“I should leave now.”
“I don’t want you to go. Please just stay here for tonight.”
“I-”
“Dazai. I want you to stay here tonight.”
Dazai sighs.
“Fine.”
Akutagawa doesn’t know why Dazai succumbed to him. He knows it wasn’t love. Maybe pity. Or maybe he holds some tiny shred of remorse for the past and was thinking “Perhaps this is the least I can do.” It simply could have been he was overcome by his base desires and pleasures, and it didn’t even matter who with. But who cares? Just this once, for this one night, Dazai belongs to him. And he can’t do anything about it.
Dazai is still there when Akutagawa wakes up in the morning. He looks peaceful in sleep, his dark brown hair in his face and his mouth slightly open. Akutagawa sits up in bed and stares down at him, moving his hair away from his eyes. The man suddenly rouses, sitting up slowly and rubbing his eyes.
“Is it morning?”
“Yes.”
“Ah…”
He looked at the clock hanging in the room.
Ah! I’m going to be late to work!”
He jumps out of bed and scrambles to get his bandages on, and his clothes back, though they’re spread between the bedroom and living room. Akutagawa pulls on a robe he keeps by his bed and quietly follows Dazai to the door.
“Oh, do you have that envelope?”
“Yeah, it’s on the table over there.”
“Oh, good, make sure that gets to Mori, okay!”
“Oh, yeah, I will, Dazai.”
“Thanks!”
Dazai hurries out the door and slams it behind him.
Akutagawa groggily heads back to his bed. He’ll deliver the envelope later.