Chapter Text
“Hello? May I join you under the umbrella?” Akutagawa turns, glaring at the source of the voice as the man raises from his quick bow. The temperature has made him even more irritable than normal, and the man’s groveling just made it a bit worse.
“No.” Akutagawa glares at him, a salaryman, just like him. He looks just as soft and pure as his hair, his suit fitted around his slender shoulders, a light gray which grows darker where the rain hits it.
The dark stains were growing faster as the man continued to stand there, watching him. He didn’t even look surprised that Akutagawa refused him, instead, it looked like he was gathering strength to—
“May I join you under the umbrella?” The man doesn’t bow this time, instead, he seems to gather power from the rejection, standing taller as determination gathers in his eyes. His clothes get darker by the second, water seeping into his clothes. At this point, he must be feeling it on his skin.
“...Fine.” Akutagawa says after a minute, thirty seconds filled with contemplation, and the remaining time used to see how long the man would wait. His eyes glow with the vitality of the sunset, and it doesn’t dim for a second. His demeanor shifts, not quite joyous, but his tiny smile is unbelievably bright as he shuffles under the umbrella.
“If I get soaked, it is your fault.” He adds immediately, as the man nearly bumps him out of the protection of the umbrella. The other man’s face flickers for a second, turning downward to show his distaste—just for a moment before his amiable expression comes back.
“There are simpler ways to be an asshole.” Akutagawa scoffs at him as they finally set off, walking just so that they don’t touch, but just fast enough that neither of them are left behind.
(Dazai Osamu chuckles. Yosano, his coworker, leans backward to stare at him, laughing like a maniac while being half-hidden by the pillar.
She shakes her head and ignores him.)
(Atsushi lets out a silent sigh as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. The rain has lightened somewhat, which doesn’t matter to his already chattering teeth. It would have been worse if the man hadn’t let him under the umbrella. If Atsushi hadn’t stood his ground and made him.
He didn’t like commanded people to do as he willed, but it was pretty close to making Kyouka go to bed early. Beneficial to both of them.
Who knows? Maybe the other man would go through an entire character arc because he was forced to willingly be within five feet of another human being.
Atsushi clucks under his breath, putting his shoes to the side. He can go through that character arc without me. I probably won’t see him ever again.
There was a flash of disappointment, so quick that Atsushi pretended it wasn’t there.)
As luck would have it, they met again. Over and over. The rain came often and suddenly, forcing them under the same umbrella over and over. Akutagawa was confident that the other man never brought an umbrella because he was sure that Akutagawa would have one.
Akutagawa was tempted to spite him and not bring it one day, but it wouldn’t be worth taking the next week off of work to recuperate.
So, at least three times a week, they take the same path home, covering up each others footsteps before they split at the same street, parting ways without a word as Akutagawa continues on his path and the other man sprints for his home.
Akutagawa does not ask. He doesn’t give a damn about the other man.
Three soft quick breathes. One. Two. Three. Akutagawa could see him in the pond in front of him, but refused to acknowledge him, hoping that the man would finish wringing his hands and go away. He took a step closer and Akutagawa typed faster, finishing his message to Gin so he could walk away and leave the man in the freezing rain—
“Can I join you under your umbrella again?” Akutagawa tch es under his breath, glaring at the man for daring to speak. Again, he seems to gather strength from the glare, absorbing it like a hungry caterpillar as he repeats his question.
“Fine.” Akutagawa snaps, shifting to make more space, waiting just long enough for the other man to get under before he sets off, “We’re making a stop at the nearest shop. My sibling needs some stuff.” Immediately, Akutagawa sets off in a near-jog out of pettiness, but when he glances back to watch the other man as he gets soaked, he finds that the other man was a half-second behind him and they slam into each other, nearly toppling into a puddle as Akutagawa’s mood dips even further.
A personal storm cloud comes to hover over Akutagawa’s head. He’s keeping up with Akutagawa’s pace, and even worse, he seems to be catching on to what Akutagawa’s doing, speeding up and making Akutagawa keep up with him.
Why am I speeding up for this fool? Akutagawa wonders, as he picks up the pace yet again, ignoring the faint burning in his chest, I’m the one with the umbrella, why don’t I just let him run into the rain? He’s barely covering them at this point, rain piercing their backs as they move, close to an outright sprint now.
Akutagawa gets the answer to his questions when he takes the turn around the corner to the store, and he sees his reflection in the mirror.
Just for a second.
Red cheeks, red ears—but he expected that because of the cold.
A smile. Small, but there. Unconcealed.
Akutagawa slips for a moment, tripping on his own feet. The other man grabs his arm before he can fall, setting him upright. Or, at least, attempting to because he didn’t actually stop , still in a half-sprint, dragging Akutagawa forward as he attempted to keep covering them with an umbrella.
The other man’s laughing rings through the air, chasing the cold away as he bursts through the automatic doors of the grocery store, raising his hands in a victory pose and the motion sends water flying out of his clothes. For a moment, the other man looks so ethereal, so content that Akutagawa cannot will away the smile on his face for nearly ten minutes.
But, they pass. And so with it, Akutagawa’s smile. Not for the other man’s lack of trying. He’s never heard so many awful jokes at once (he includes the addition of his own jokes in this total).
“Oh, you have a sister?” The other man—his friend? No, not by now. Acquaintance, asks as Akutagawa turns down an aisle, inspecting the shelves.
“Sibling.” Akutagawa corrects quickly, checking the aisles for the brand Gin likes. While he’s been cursed with bad lungs, they got sensitive skin and Akutagawa made the mistake once of getting them something scented and got to hear them complain about it. Every day.
(Why couldn’t Gin go to the store and get their own pads, huh? Why did Akutagawa have to deal with the whining?)
The other man snorts and Akutagawa whips around so fast that he startles, stepping back in response to the obvious threat.
“Wait, I wasn’t laughing at that, at your sister—sibling, sorry—!” Akutagawa has his hand in the other man’s button up in an instant, “I just thought about something funny!”
“About my nonbinary sibling?”
“No! Well, kinda, but not about them being nonbinary!” Akutagawa lowers his fist in response to the man’s actually apologetic bubbling. He sighs with relief until Akutagawa tightens his fist, “I can’t tell you what I was laughing about. You’ll probably hate me.”
“I can believe you were laughing at my sibling. Then I will hate you for that.” His face crumbles inward at the word hate , like how humankind is scared of death, this man is scared of being hated. Akutagawa loosens his grip, catching the eye of a worker over the counter.
They look passively at him, unwilling to get involved.
Akutagawa lets out a long sigh. He’s already gotten close enough to being arrested, he doesn’t want to have anything else on his record.
“Just tell me.” He pleads, but he tries to make it sound like a command.
The other man pries Akutagawa’s hand away from his jacket, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. Akutagawa shivers at the hot air against the still-frigid skin.
“Do you know the “what size is your pussy” meme?”
“...Why.” The word is strangled coming out of Akutagawa’s throat and he puts his head in his hands, “Why do so many people like that. My sibling tells me that every time they make me go out for pads. ”
“ So it’s not just me. ” The other man says all in one breath, grabbing Akutagawa’s shoulders and shaking him a bit. His face is bright red from the cold, but that highlights his eyes and the connection that’s been made between them, “ My brother sends that to me as well. ”
“Oh god it’s so annoying.”
The other man—his friend—nods along, “Every single time. Without fail.”
“What entertainment do they find in it.”
“My brother likes to annoy me when I don’t buy him crepes.”
“Gin doesn’t need a reason.”
“Kyouka takes too much of my paycheck for those crepes but,” his friend shudders, “To avoid the meme? I would do anything.”
“Gin’s beyond blackmail.” Akutagawa grabs the pads off the shelve, with a packet of tampons as well, “I’ve tried anything.”
“I’ve tried giving Kyouka bunny sticker at first, but that didn’t stop him.” His friend grabs the change that Akutagawa drops, handing it to him as they leave the store, “So now it’s crepes.”
“I would find something for Gin but—” They both yelp at the same time as they walk into the rain, too engrossed in their own conversation to notice that the rain had only picked up.
“...It’s raining sideways.” Akutagawa dismays.
“Run?”
“Run.”
Akutagawa leans against a pillar, tapping away at his phone. It’s raining once again.
“Are you waiting for anyone?” The receptionist calls out, but Akutagawa shakes his head. Even though this time will make the fifth that he’s sharing the umbrella with his friend, he never seemed able to steer the conversation to the topics of each others names.
It had gotten absurd at this point. Akutagawa know his friends favorite food, how much he hated thunderstorms, his skill at driving (not much), about how far apart they lived (about a two minute walk), his favorite food (chazuke, for a reason that he would not tell Akutagawa), and even the number of tiger plushies his brother has (12 and counting).
But not his name.
“Oh! You’re here!” His friend rushes out of the building, tie half undone and suit jacket flying in the wind.
“Of course I’m still here.” Akutagawa scoffs, “It’s raining, isn’t it? Get under the umbrella and we can go.”
“Thank you…”
Was that all the segue he needed?
“Akutagawa.”
“Nakajima Atsushi. Call me Atsushi.”
“Of course…” Akutagawa thinks back to the tiger plush that his friend—Atsushi, had, the one that he’d had since he was able to buy things with his own money, “Jinko.”
“Jinko?!”
“Fuck.” Akutagawa mutters under his breath as he watches the rain beat against the windowpane. It’s light, summer rain so it won’t be that cold but…
He lets out another long sigh. Normally rainy days meant walking back with Atsushi, but it was far too late to rely on the other man today. And even worse, he didn’t bring an umbrella with him.
Akutagawa packs his stuff, dragging his feet down the stairs.
“Akutagawa!” Akutagawa jerks his head up at the sound of his voice, watching as Atsushi waves at him.
“What are you still doing here? It’s late.” Akutagawa hisses.
“Waiting for you, of course.” Atsushi turns toward the rain, “I brought my umbrella today, and I didn’t know if you had one or not.”
“It’s been two hours.”
“I’ve waited longer.” Atsushi says, offhandedly, like the way he says that Byakko was the first plushie he ever had, at age 18, “Are you ready to go?”
“You’re odd.” Akutagawa responds, slipping under Atsushi’s umbrella, “But…thank you.”
“What was that?”
“I’m not saying it again.” Akutagawa grumbles, crossing his arms as Atsushi chuckles.
Strangely, when the bonds that would forever bond them appeared, it seemed like they were falling away instead. To both of them, it was their fault and no one else’s - this falling out was on them .
“Of course.” Akutagawa groans as he looks outside, watching the rain pour. His entire body aches, as it has been for the past several days. As usual, it seems to collect in his lungs, making every breath harder than the one before. When he finds Atsushi, his chest eases, as if his body finds more comfort in the man than Akutagawa does. (Truly, it’s the same amount of comfort, but Akutagawa refuses to admit it to himself.)
“Are you ready to leave? Or are you going to stand here like a wallflower?” Akutagawa asks, more bitterly than he intended.
Before he can attempt to take his words back, Atsushi is already responding, raising his head to affix him with the strongest glare he’s ever gotten from the man, “Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?! I do all I can for you every time that you forget your umbrella and all you do is lash out at me!” Atsushi growls, gnashing his teeth.
“I—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Akutagawa raises his head from his mass of blankets, wondering who the fuck is knocking like that at his door. He’s exhausted, body a wreck after waking up thoroughly ill. He refuses to think of it as karma but that thought keeps on creeping in.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Do you want me to get the door?” Gin yells and Akutagawa barely has the strength to raise his head and reply, before collapsing back into his sheets as Gin does his bidding.
Bang. Bang.
Gin flings open the door before the third knock and Akutagawa sighs in relief, burrowing back into his blankets. When he’s asleep, he doesn’t have to deal with how sick he is or how badly he hurt Atsushi’s feelings. When he’s asleep, he doesn’t have to deal with a single thing.
Although the chatter of Gin and their friend is a surprisingly large tick in his side, he manages to fall into a light sleep before he’s awoken by his bedroom door opening.
“Fuck off Gin.” He groans, covering his head with his pillow to block out the light from the hall, “And tell your friend that too. I don’t want them gawking at me when I’m sick.”
“As you can see,” Gin says, ignoring him, “Ryuunosuke is even more irritable when ill.”
“I’m not surprised.” A soft voice responds, causing Akutagawa to throw the pillow off his head, staring at the open doorway. His ears aren’t betraying him, he learns as he stares right into sunset eyes, “He’s always this prickly.”
“Fuck you.” Akutagawa grumbles before coughing. It racks his entire body and there’s two pairs of hands on him before he finishes, “Get off me.” He complains, and of course is readily ignored.
“His cough has gotten far worse…” Atsushi notices, rubbing soothing circles into his back as Gin halfheartedly pats him, “Are you sure he can keep down stuff like this? I don’t want him to cough it back up. Eh - you don’t need to look at me like that.”
“Better me than him.” Gin responds readily, “Besides, of course he can keep down soup. He’s got a bad cold, he’s not about to die. Though he may look like it.”
“I will remind you, I am right here and know where you keep all your dresses.”
“And I’ll remind you, you’re too sick to move.” Gin threatens right back before flicking his ear, “See, he’s doing fine.” Gin says to Atsushi, who is still rubbing his back. Something blares in the kitchen and they all jump, “I’ll leave him in your capable care, Atsushi-san.”
Gin flees to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. The seconds pass by, each one with more awkward tension than the one before. They look at the floor, the bed, the nightstand, and each other - just to confirm that the other isn’t looking at this. This works until it doesn’t and their eyes meet. Akutagawa opens his mouth but Atsushi beats him to it.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just had such a bad day and I—”
“You don’t need to apologize for having a natural reaction. I was rude to you, and you told me off for it, as you should. You have nothing to apologize for, it is I who—”
“Bad day or not, that does not excuse my response. Even worse because you were acting normally and I blew up at you.”
“Then the blame still lies on me.” At Atsushi’s confused sound, he searches for his courage and answers, “I should not be so rude to you. For all the kindness you have given me, I should be nicer. Not when you’re having bad days, at all times. For that, I apologize.”
“I—” Atsushi places a hand on his forehead, “I think you’re delirious.”
“I’m not delirious.” Akutagawa huffs, crossing his arms, “If people being kind to you is this odd, I have to say, you should be apologized to more.”
They’re both silent for a moment, but it’s clear that the burden of speech is on Atsushi.
Atsushi sighs deeply, “You know, you make it seem like you don’t want my soup.”
“You make it seem like you’re changing the subject.”
“Then let me.” Atsushi says forcefully, his eyes which are more gold than purple pin Akutagawa to the bed, “If you’re so determined to be nicer, then let’s change the subject.” Akutagawa turns away. Why does he need to be so stubborn?
“What do you have for me?” Akutagawa asks instead, “If it has mandarins in it, you can—I will have to respectfully decline.”
“I can only assume that that was a joke. What type of soup has mandarins in it?” Atsushi responds as he takes a container out of the plastic bag he put on the nightstand, along with a spoon, “Kyouka calls it a sweet miso. It’s just miso with some noodles and vegetables and whatever beef trimmings the butcher is willing to give me.”
“Vegetables.” Akutagawa scrunches his nose before snorting to relieve himself off a stuffy nose, “Which ones?”
“No wonder you look like you’re missing out on several crucial vitamins.” Atsushi mutters under his breath, so quietly it was obvious that Akutagawa wasn’t meant to hear that, “Just some radish and carrot. Nothing more special than that.” Atsushi opens the container and immediately Akutagawa is assaulted with a mix of spices and rich flavors which drawn him forward, led by his nose.
“That smells really good.” Akutagawa breathes, sitting up for the first time that day to peer into the bowl. It’s a light yellow, as typical for miso, but there’s so much lurking under the surface, “I’ll eat it as soon as I get out of bed.”
“Yea, right,” Atsushi says, before shoving Akutagawa with his hip, forcing him to make space for the other man on the bed, “You don’t look like you’ve moved all day. Open up.”
“What do you mean open—” Akutagawa starts, but of course the action of speaking meant that his mouth was open for Atsushi to shove some food inside. He’s about to complain before he tastes the soup. It’s so good, the miso goes well with the slightly sweet noodles, and the soup is made heartier by the vegetables that taste good (unlike when he or Gin cooks them).
It’s balm to his stomach, and his unnoticed hunger doubles ten-fold.
“You want some more?” Atsushi asks teasingly. Akutagawa frowns and does not say no.
The first time that they walk home together, without the excuse of rain and an umbrella, is, simply, a sunny day. (Of course, it still includes some kind of excuse.)
“Akutagawa! Wait!” Akutagawa turns as Atsushi calls out his name, running with something napkin-covered in his hand. He stops walking, of course, staring at Atsushi until the other salaryman runs up to him, panting heavily.
“I—didn’t see you this morning—so—”
“Take a moment to catch your breath, Jinko.” Akutagawa warns, hand hovering over Atsushi’s back as he bends in half, gulping in air, “You called for me, I am not going to run away. Whatever it is, it can certainly wait a few seconds.”
“I hope - so.” Atsushi says, words coming out more evenly as he hands Akutagawa the wrapped thing, “I wanted to give this to you this morning, but I didn’t see you. And then I noticed that I didn’t even know what department you worked in so I couldn’t just deliver it to you so instead I just had this all day because I don’t trust Dazai to not just take it behind my back so I held onto it all day—”
Akutagawa presses his finger against Atsushi’s mouth and he shuts up immediately, “Thank you, but there was no need to go through all that trouble. Now, what is this?”
“It’s a fig tart. I noticed that you had a lot of fig stuff at your apartment, so I thought either you or Gin would enjoy it.” Akutagawa’s face warms, “I think I got it right.”
“Shush, jinko.” Akutagawa huffs as he unwraps the tart. The container is beaded with water, clearly it was freshly made that morning and left to languish over the duration of their workday. Inside is a beautiful fig tart that makes Akutagawa’s mouth water, “It is…It looks amazing. Truly.”
“It was nothing much.” Atsushi says, scratching the back of his head, “I can give you the recipe if you’d like. I found it on google. I would text you but…”
“People take less roundabout ways to ask for my number.” Akutagawa teases. Atsushi goes bright red and begins sputtering, “Get your phone out, I’m only going to say this once.”
“‘I’m only going to say this once.’” Atsushi parrots as he pulls out his phone, “I thought you said you were going to be nicer.” Atsushi smirks at him as Akutagawa turns away, “Doesn’t that mean you should repeat it a thousand times for me?”
“I’m giving you an inch, don’t try and force miles from me.” Akutagawa responds, before listing out his number. For the sake of his embarrassment, Atsushi listens the first time, fingers flying over the keys, “Did you get it?”
Atsushi repeats his number back to him and Akutagawa nods, “I got it.” Atsushi breathes, before he sags forward like a huge weight has been taken off his back.
How long has he been waiting for it? Akutagawa thinks with a nod (an absolutely not fond nod), “And I work in finance. You work in the HR department, where Dazai was moved.” Atsushi stares at him, mouth open, “We work in the same company, Jinko. If you ever wonder where someone works, use Dazai to triangulate their position.”
“That’s dumb.” Atsushi says without thinking, and the moment the words leave his mouth he looks like he regrets it. Akutagawa claps his hand over his mouth as Atsushi hurries to take his words back but the laughter bursts out of him before he can stop it.
The giggles slip past his hand as the insanity of his statement hits him. Using an employee to triangulate a person’s whereabouts because Dazai’s business was everybody’s business—pure insanity right there. Pure, hilarious insanity.
Atsushi joins him for a moment, clearly not getting the joke as Akutagawa manages to put himself back under control, clutching his chest.
“It is.” Akutagawa agrees, wiping the tears from his eyes with his free hand (the other was, of course, still holding the fig tart). Atsushi’s hand goes to his back again, patting him gently, “That was a good laugh.”
“I’m glad to find that you could.” Akutagawa rolls his eyes, “And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for giving you my number. It’s been a long time coming.” Akutagawa flicks Atsushi’s forehead before turning on his heel.
“Where are you going?” Atsushi calls out.
“Home?” Akutagawa responds, confused.
It’s bright outside, they have no reason to walk home together. (And Akutagawa does not want to. Not at all.)
“Let me walk you back then. You’re still recovering from a cold after all!” Atsushi chirps, taking Akutagawa’s hand and leading him out of the office. He doesn’t allow Akutagawa any time to complain, running his mouth as they go through their usual route - not that Akutagawa tries to interrupt.