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He was in the middle of his mission when Akutagwa felt something stir in his lungs. He thought it was his ability, Rashomon, and kept striking forward, only to realize that it wasn’t.Did they join?!
Is he here?
Is he in danger?
With each breath he took, he felt something wrap around his heart. Cobwebs, as if. It couldn't be his lung disease, could it? Not this time, at least. It was more like layers and layers of plastic bags, thriving to suffocate him to death. His coat slashed through the surfaces of air like a knife through the butter.
No… not again!
"Higuchi, tell the Black Lizard to cover for me!" He rasped. The blonde subordinate's brows furrowed in confusion, but she obeyed, just like she should've - like she does every single time.
When he ensured they could survive against the opposing team without his ability, he stormed around the warehouse, falling on his knees inside one of the containers as soon as he opened the iron doors with a loud creak.
His forehead broke a sweat. What was going on? Was he finally dying? Had his lung disease finally taken the last turn? The final destination being... hell.
"you're going to go to hell either way, boy. The sooner, the better. for all of us." Dazai's words echoed through the halls of his mind palace.
He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists around his hair. No matter how hard he tried to take another breath, he ended up collapsing on the floor, his fingers around his throat, trying to get at least an ounce of air inside.
How pathetic. He felt like a cuckoo, desperately trying to take something that was never his and would never be - And then, the stars started to appear. Armies of blood vessels and thunderstorms appeared in his pupils like glass shards as they came streaming down his cheeks along with meteor showers.
"So, this is it, isn't it?" he coughed up, looking down at his hands, bones cracking in his knuckles. He saw the blood stains falling on his palms like the snow of crimson flowers. The intervals between each appearance grew shorter and shorter with each blink. "This bloody curse is going to be my end? All because of HIM?"
The thought of trying to breathe again made his abdomen turn upside down. He felt his lungs changing shape to adjust... to the newer soul... a curse. It's not like he wasn't used to them. In the mafia, curses were passed down like family heirlooms with ruby gems and silver chains, but what made his lips wobble was the pathetic thought that the reason behind this was now no one but him.
Why?! Why him?! He was the purest soul Akutagawa had ever met throughout his wretched life! Why does such bloodbath trail scarlet threads to HIM?!
He felt a layer of silky cotton press against his throat, and by the time he had started coughing up the petals, with roots trembling in his fingers, someone had already cracked the container door open.
Even though he was in the midst of his pathetic death, Akutagawa still lifted a palm - under his skin, rose thorns were crawling deeper into his muscles – to command Rashomon for one last time.
There was a thud.
Then a breath.
Someone dodged it – a bulletproof coat activated with an ability that made it capable of slashing through everything and nothing at once. They dodged a coat… that had protected his heart like ribs… more than his ribs had. And now, even his Rashomon was surrendering.
Akutagawa couldn’t see who it was that had barged in without knocking, without trembling in the pathetic pool of terror in front of him; he couldn’t see who it was that didn’t tremble while saying his name that didn’t even dare stumble on their own feet while bowing to him.
He was practically blind at that point. He was dying. Thorns were spreading beneath his skin like ants, the roots having already been wrapped around his lungs, attempting to squeeze him until he coughed his own self up. He couldn’t see-
He couldn’t see,
But he knew.
“Boss told us to cooperate for today – and that you needed help,” said the young man, breathing heavily behind him. Akutagawa felt his shoulders tense up. That voice… voice as pure as the feathers of the angels that rest lazily on cotton clouds-
“Though, I didn’t know he meant you specifically.” The voice continued. “I mean, how could he know anyway?” never shutting up, always saying more than should be said, but also never saying what needs to be said.
Everyone loves you so much. Cursed heavens, how do you even adjust your eyes to your light without flinching?!
“Hey! Are you injured?” Getting louder… of course you care. That’s what you are - You feel sorry for enemies that lose to you… If only you knew what it cost me to lose to you! To have eyes looking at you with pride instead of them being on me! If only you knew what you cost me- being on my knees for you as I-
“Listen, I know you’re not head over heels for me, but this is a serious situation!” he could hear how the other boy’s palms curled up in fists. The middle finger always cracked a knuckle first.
He wanted to rasp… wanted to look up. His body was destroying itself, his bones burning as if they had been put in an acid and back into him.
I deserved this. It’s all my fault.
He withdrew his Rashomon, covering himself with it instead, desperately trying to sink his face in his ink-colored sleeves, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could scoot over to the darkest corner of the container and disappear for one last time. To have the last breath? To relax his muscles, which he never got to do in his youth…
But he couldn’t move. Thorns were eating at him from the inside, the moss making itself home all over his guts.
He moved his eyes to look up and saw the silhouette of those claws and fur that were slowly sliding back up where they had come from, revealing a white shirt, a beating heart underneath…, and his pale chest…
“If it hadn’t been for you…” he rasped but figured he better stop if he didn’t want to cough up another petal.
But he was late… he felt like he was watching himself from afar, from his eyes, as he was bent in two, bloody leaves finding their way out through his teeth.
The other boy gasped something like ‘dear god!’ crouching down on his knees, on Akutagawa’s level, watching his body whither and bloom at the same time.
Akutagawa could feel the pressure of widened violet eyes with golden frames on his shoulder blades; he could feel the breathless words with warm air that brushed against his ears every second; he was surprised he could tell which was which.
“How did you even get yourself into this?! Who did you strike it with?! Does your boss even know?!”
Endless questions, endless worries…
Too much. Too much care.
Please! Oh, please, talk! Talk away! Hold me!
He felt a slight brush against his back as if he was contemplating whether he should go for it.
Akutagawa knew that he wouldn’t.
His throat burned. The thorns crawled their way up to his spine.
“A..Atsushi, I...” Blood started dripping down from his nose, droplets appearing on the floor. He gave himself the power to nod, to give permission. He felt naked… his skin burning up with the scarlet fire of spider lilies.
Don’t make me admit that I long for it!
As soon as he nodded, he felt Atsushi’s fingers relax, then tense up again, as they grabbed Akutagawa’s black coat and took it off of him, not even bothering to be gentle but throwing it away to the other side of the container.
Akutagawa burned and burned and burned. He felt the roots climbing, climbing around his ribs, going down, down…
“Hey!” Atsushi cupped his face in his palms, making him lift his head up. The only time he had felt such touch was thrice… the first time was from Dazai: Akutagawa tripped and fell during a mission and scraped his knee, so his master corrected that mistake by twisting his jaw. The second time was from Mori, who held him down to not stand up from the dinner table that he couldn’t remember vividly anymore. The third time was from Elise, a mere kid who wanted to simply be taken on a walk through the halls of the Mafia headquarters – she was actually leading him to the said dinner table.
None of them were as… free of pain. It felt eerie.
Please… not you, too, were-tiger. I’ve had enough. Just let me die like this!
Atsushi made him open his mouth by gently pressing his fingers onto his lips. Akutagawa’s heart started skipping stones along the roots, longing to see which it could kick farther.
“Breathe, alright? Here, let me.” For someone witnessing this curse for the first time, Atsushi looked rather calm. Too calm. But Akutagawa was blinded… he only saw a silhouette of his face. Were Atsushi’s brows furrowed? Was his hair getting in his way? Was it so messy that not even the black streak was visible, maybe? He would pluck his eyes out one by one if it meant taking one last look.
He was about to cough up again when Atsushi made a platter with his palm against Akutagawa’s chin, helping the petals out.
“You smell like lilies, Akutagawa,” Atsushi said softly as if consoling a crying baby.
I am not to be consoled… I am not to be comforted! I am to be left alone! I am to be feared!
Akutagawa’s eyes, or whatever was left of them, widened in shock. He was about to feel the one last thorn reaching his heart and piercing it in half when suddenly…
It died down. It backed away, along with the roots that, in one swift movement, found their way back to emptiness, the moss picking itself up and making itself their fellow traveler. The white fog that had been a barrier that had kept the two apart lifted, and he saw…
Atsushi.
Atsushi.
His eyes were wide, the spark of lavender and gold dancing in them a furious waltz with daggers and chains; sweat made his hair stick against his forehead, his black streak curly by the moist; his cheeks were flushed like cotton candy that Akutagawa once saw him eating with Kyoka, which gave him the urge to buy it for Gin… Tachihara had a good laugh that day. Hirotsu would, too, but kept himself composed, that old man.
Akutagawa felt his muscles letting go… like a marionette whose strings could no longer hold on. He went down with his back on Atsushi’s knees. His eyelids urging like theater curtains to be let down.
“Your back…” Atsushi said as he touched it, taking in the dampness. “you’re going to get pneumonia, especially with your diseases-“ He took out a handkerchief from his chest pocket and handed it to Akutagawa. He also reached for the black coat carefully and wrapped him up in it.
Akutagawa let him. Whether that was because he was too tired to move or resist, he didn’t know. Did he even want to fight?
“Why… why…” he rasped and rasped like a drunk man as he gazed up at Atsushi bewilderedly, his eyes taking in each freckle, each crack, each bone, each cell that was painted cotton pink red… He bet they would be on fire if he lifted his hand to touch them.
“It’s okay, It’s okay…” Atsushi said quietly, giving himself the will and the right to lift Akutagawa a little to cradle him better. He was smiling… smiling for his dear life.
“you don’t know-“ Akutagawa wanted to say. You don’t know anything; you don’t know how many times I’ve wished you were dead when you didn’t look my way, when you gave in to my arguments and didn’t resist me! You don’t know how many times I’ve wished Dazai choked himself with his own bandages when he made you laugh, and I wish it were me instead! You don’t know that I got drunk with Master Chuuya, and he let me dial your number on his phone, but I got mistaken and ended up calling my boss instead-
“Ssshh,” Atsushi said instead and touched Akutagawa’s burning heart. “I know.” He said. “I know everything,” he added with ease.
“You think you do,” Akutagawa rasped. His chest burned. He knew Atsushi was stupid, but making himself believe that he knew was another level of-
He didn’t even have time to finish his thoughts.
He felt warmth on his lips…
‘You smell like lilies, Akutagawa.’
Those were lips!..
Immature.
Amateur.
He stopped just as quickly as he began.
“I told you, I know.” He repeated himself, making his words known. Understood. He was proving himself. He did it…
“But you never got it. You never caught the disease! Stop fooling me just out of pity!” Akutagawa went all in, fighting for his lungs as they pounded against his skin with anticipation. “You never ripped your skull in half after coughing up a whole sink. You weren’t the one trying to stay sane in bed while feeling the roots take over. You never did!”
Atsushi smiled intently. With the purest sigh, while still holding Akutagawa to his chest, he reached for his pocket on his pants and took out a fistful of bright petals.
“Who told you I didn’t?”