Archive of Our Own

Atsushi had a normal day, which was … unusual. If nothing else went wrong at least you could count on Dazai to stir things up, making Kunikida lose his temper, grab Atsushi for a random coffee run that turns out into a bar hopping “mission, it’s a mission, Atsushi-kun!”, or maybe asking a woman for a double-you-know-what and she says yes and you end up looking for them for the rest of the day trying to prevent it, which happened last week and now you think the suicidal pair is dating and that’s where Dazai is right now, on a date (he tries not to think too hard on what the hot topic of conversation might be), and everyone in the office is now bored.

Well, boredom happens so rarely that it’s actually something new. Refreshing boredom, spent filing the afternoon away, having casual conversation with co-workers, clocking out at a normal hour, not feeling completely spent at the end of the day. He could get used to this.

Of course, this is not just because Dazai is missing (aka skipping work). He is somewhat of a disturber of peace, yes, but not everything happens because of him. After the Decay of Angels … happenings, and its aftermath (the damage control was exhausting. Still is, but after almost six months, news outlets finally stopped covering the ADA members, which was becoming a real problem, dodging nosy journalists, that is), things finally began to settle down. There was no known group of powerful and evil ability-users on the loose wracking havoc on the world, and people, with the help of government PR campaigns and other aids, were starting to heal from the emotional and physical damage, sustained during the … happenings.

Things were good. This sense of peace, that can only be felt right after a war, was exhilarating.

And Atsushi finally had enough time (and mental space) to find a hobby.

“Want to go grab something to eat, Atsushi?”

It was a question he was afraid of, if asked on a Tuesday afternoon or Thursday night (it was Tuesday now, if anyone wants to know). He had somewhere to be, somewhere he really wanted to be, and didn’t want to explain it to the others, even if it was just Tanizaki who was asking. The question was hard because Atsushi rarely turned down anything, if it was an invite to a paid meal or if he helped someone move, not even a thank you in return. He was a yes-man. Because of course he was.

Tanizaki was holding the door open, standing right outside the ADA office door (he was so close, why didn’t they just leave, why did he had to remember him!?), looking at him expectantly. Atsushi could hear Naomi and Kyouka chatting in the hall behind him, so they were probably grabbing crepes.

He steeled his nerves (thinking of what he had planned thirty minutes from now, which made him happy and filled him with resolve) and simply said: “No, thanks. Have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tanizaki then closed the door and that was it. A normal request, a normal reply. Easy.

Atsushi’s heart was hammering its way out of his chest. He still had a way to go in the setting boundaries department. Thankfully, his co-workers (at least the emotionally mature ones) knew about his people-pleasing tendencies and didn’t push, knowing well that if they insisted, Atsushi would fold.

In a few minutes, Athushi grabbed his bag and bid Kunikida good-bye. He had somewhere he had to be.

*

The old movie theatre was situated in a run-down, slightly dangerous looking dark and narrow alleyway, not your usual bright and colorful franchise movie theatre with caramel popcorn, luxurious seats with cup-holders and the 4D experience. In fact, this theatre had nothing of that. It had a small bar, run by a very tired-looking old man who knew everything, every little fucking (sorry) thing about every goddamned movie ever made (not that he liked to speak, but if you asked, he would tell you, even though begrudgingly). He sold tickets (no receipt, at least Atsushi never thought to ask for one), one type of beer and tea – he had a weirdly large collection of tea flavors – and both drinks were sold in large paper cups that you could take into the theatre with you (the slightly uncomfortable seats had no cup-holders, though, but Atsushi managed).

Atsushi had no idea how the theatre managed to stay afloat. The ticket and beer he always bought cost him almost nothing, it was as if the owner, who he suspected to be the old, tired man, just did it for funsies. The crowd consisted of more or less regulars, a group of odd-looking individuals, who gathered every Tuesday afternoon and Thursday night to watch a weird, uncomfortable, amazing movie.

The program was never known beforehand. You just showed up and buckled in for a wild ride. You never knew what you were going to watch, and Atsushi loved that. He loved this theatre; he has loved it for the past month since he accidentally stumbled upon it on a fateful Thursday night. He liked how no one knew him, how no one cared for him (the group, even though consistent, never really liked to mingle), how he could just exist. No strings attached. Just him, a ticket (not a physical one, he just paid for it and got a nod), and a beer in a large paper cup that had “Sorcerer” imprinted on it.

He suspected that was the name of the movie theatre. Maybe it was once written somewhere else, above the entrance probably. Cast in light: Sorcerer Movie Theatre. He loved it. Loved it loved it loved it.

And he didn’t want to share it with everyone. He didn’t want to co-exist. He wanted something for himself. He wanted to feel normal.

Which he felt immediately the moment the lights turned off and the movie started playing. He smiled, just for himself.  The movie was nothing close to normal, not at all, but that somehow made him feel even safer. The deranged thing happened on screen, not to him. How … nice.

It was the first time that everything just clicked. A normal day. A comfortable, easy, happy day. A day he felt he deserved to live. His existence was approved by not needing an approval. The beer was a bit warm, and the movie was fucking nuts, and it just … clicked.

And then he heard a cough.

This was nothing new, people always coughed, maybe even more frequently in this theatre where no one really cared about appearances. He suspected that at least a couple of people here were homeless, judging by their clothes and smell. Sleeping outside warrants coughs.

But this one made him pause. He scratched his brain for a while, trying to figure out why it gave him pause, but then the movie sucked him in again and he forgot it for a while.

Almost half an hour later he heard it again. It was quiet, it came from the far back of the theatre, it was familiar. His ears automatically sharpened upon hearing it, completely shifting his focus. Did his tiger recognize him? Was he trying to tell him something? He seemed on edge. Should he be on edge? Should he turn around, investigate it?

He felt strangely bothered by the presence. He was afraid he was discovered, as silly as it sounds. This was supposed to be his haven. If it was familiar, then …

He stubbornly continued to watch the movie, put on edge every time the person made the sound, but determined to enjoy the movie. He wasn’t going to let them take this away from him. He would confront them later, when the movie finished, he would put an end to this, he was willing to literally fight for it.

The credits started to roll. He usually waited until the very end because he enjoyed it so much and because the lights didn’t turn on until the very last credit was rolled, almost as if the old man was convinced every single second was a picture worth seeing. But this time he tuned into his tiger vision, so helpful in the dark, and made his way towards the exit.

He scanned the rows behind him. There were a couple people asleep in the corner of one of the last rows, but he was familiar with both. An old woman was making her way to the exit, but he was fairly sure the coughing person was male.

There was no one else there.

He hurried towards the exit, careful not to startle the woman, opening the swinging doors.

The bar space was empty apart from the tired man who didn’t even look at him when he burst out.

“Did someone just leave? Like, right now?” he asked the man, putting on his figurative detective hat.

The man looked at him. It was astounding how he looked asleep, even though he was looking him straight in the eye.

“No.”

He then went right back to doing whatever he was doing, probably sleeping.

Atsushi then quickly went outside, carefully inspecting the surroundings. There wasn’t much place to hide, the alley was a dead end with little space.

He let out a long sigh, bothered by the turn of events. He hoped it was a one-time thing. That his sanctuary was still untouched.

He then walked home, still a bit troubled.

*

“Atsushi-kun, let’s go drinking tonight!”

Atsushi froze. Oh no.

“I found this amazing bar, they even do good virgin cocktails, if you still feel underage,” Dazai continued, not noticing the distress emanating from his protégé. “We should-”

“That’s great, I’d love to, so Friday, maybe?” he said as inconspicuously as possible, not looking away from his computer, typing “jbowelmfnjkwhpfebv”.

“Friday’s no good for me! I have a … I have to … no!” he happily and confidently concluded a very confusing sentence. He sat down on Atsushi’s desk and smiled at him. Expectantly.

Atsushi opened his mouth, hoping his confidence won’t let him down.

“Okay.” It let him down. Disappointment filled his chest, even though he knew the night would still be fun.

But at the same time Kyouka spoke up louder than him, diverting Dazai’s attention.

“He can’t.”

They both stared at her, Atsushi more surprised than Dazai, who folded his bandaged arms and tilted his head.

“Why not?” the older inquired, almost amused.

“He has somewhere to be. Please leave him alone.”

Atsushi felt a surge of panic curse through him. What did she-

Suddenly Naomi appeared in front of his desk and grabbed Dazai by his hand.

“Kunikida-san demands your presence. Please come with me,” she said with a big smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

“What do you mean, I just spoke to hi-”

Then Tanizaki joined her, grabbing his other arm.

“I’ll help,” he told Naomi and this time she looked genuinely happy.

They dragged a very confused Dazai out the door. Kyouka left her desk, too and closed the door behind them, avoiding Atsushi’s questioning gaze. They did not come in for another ten minutes, leaving Atsushi to collect his scattered thoughts.

Dazai was first to return, looking chipper as always again, followed by a serious Kyouka. She slid into her chair, her gaze fixed on Dazai’s back, almost as if she was waiting for-

“So,” Dazai continued as if they just stopped talking a second ago, plopping on Atsushi’s desk yet again. “Saturday work for you?”

*

This time he was prepared. This time, he would come to the bottom of things. This was the day he was going to unmask the coughing phantom of the movie theatre.

He heard it again that Thursday and then Tuesday. On Thursday he heard it only once at the beginning of the movie, so he let it go, but on Tuesday it was more prominent. He tried looking over his shoulder but two rows behind him there were a lot of people in one space, so he didn’t really see beyond them. And again, after the movie there was no one around who Atsushi could clock as being his person of interest. Was he leaving the theatre in the middle of the screening (who does that)? What was going on? The old cashier was strikingly unhelpful, contributing just uselessly interesting movie trivia.

But this Thursday, he was prepared.

The phantom would always come in late since Atsushi never saw him, being punctual as he was. So, he waited in the vicinity of the theatre, filled with anxiety because he was never late and didn’t want to disturb people, and finally the clock said 19.30. He hurried towards Sorcerer, planning to get in at 19.35.

The old man didn’t seem to mind. He sold him his ticket (no beer this time, he was too distracted) and waved him away.

This was it. Why was he so nervous?

He stepped into the dark, night vision on. He approached the last row, taking a breath and looking the row over.

His eyes settled on the only man seated in the last row, looking strangely relaxed, hand gripping a steaming cup of tea. He wasn’t that good at distinguishing details of the faces in the dark, but this person had dark hair with light tips. There weren’t many people with that haircut, especially not paired with an insistent cough.

Atsushi just stood there for a moment, not really knowing what to do with the newly found knowledge.

So, he did the only logical thing. He ignored it.

He sat himself nearer the back than usual, afraid he would bother someone if he took too much time choosing a seat. He didn’t feel that safe with his exposed back turned towards his ex-enemy (they didn’t really address it, but since their planned agni kai never took place, he took it as a peace offering), but reminded himself he has been doing it for two weeks now. Nothing happened so far. He should be fine.

The movie was a bit boring, as these sometimes were, and he struggled to follow its stale plot with no redeeming qualities. He was trying hard to enjoy at least some aspect of it, but his thoughts kept drifting towards the man seated in the back.

After twenty minutes he gave up and let his mind wonder, which he appreciated as part of the experience of these types of movies, even though right now that meant he was going to think about … him.

He severely misjudged their relationship after their airport battle, the memory filled him with cringe. Akutagawa fought with him as a team, he died for him, then remembered him while under the vampiric influence. Atsushi naively assumed he would feel the same way as he did – he thought they were friends. Or, at least starting to be.

It was just a hug. It was a stupid little gesture he didn’t even make consciously but it ruined something between them, if he didn’t imagine that, too. It was about a week after the end of war, the ADA and Port Mafia attended a lot of the same meetings, coordinating and working together rather well.

He saw Akutagawa on one of these occasions. He stifled a smile that started to form on his face and came up to greet his partner.

Akutagawa was leaning on the wall with his arms folded, looking disinterested and slightly annoyed, but Atsushi didn’t really mind. He wanted to check up with him. To see if-

“How are you doing?”

He scoffed.

“Fine.”

“Are you still a vampire?” he asked innocently, trying not to grin.

“Foolish jinko. Of course not.”

“Well, you still dress the same, your Victorian outfit was kinda perfect for-” He met his gaze and quickly raised his hands in sign of defeat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your stile, I actually think you look nice.”

Akutagawa didn’t react to this, pointedly staring somewhere in the distance.

Atsushi leaned on the wall on the opposite side of the older man who still wouldn’t look at him. He opened his mouth a couple times, but nothing came out. The meeting was about to end and soon they would part ways, he just … he just wanted-

“Why don’t you just ask. I can see you want something from me,” Akutagawa unexpectedly spoke up. Atsushi tried to meet his gaze, but he still wouldn’t have it.

He bit his lip.

“I was just wondering,” he started slowly, voice quiet and gentle, as if he was afraid to scare Akutagawa away. The gentle seriousness or maybe the softness of his tone made Akutagawa relax. It was a small change, but noticeable in the way he held his shoulders. He looked very tired. “I saw you heal your broken arm during the fight. With the blood. Did … I was just wondering … did maybe …” He paused, fidgeting with his hands behind his back. His next words came out almost as a whisper, as if afraid they would shatter something if he said it too loud. “Did it heal something else?”

Akutagawa finally looked at him, but this time it was Atsushi who didn’t look up. He was staring at the others boots, as if committing them to memory.

Akutagawa lowered his gaze, too.

“Why would you want to know that.” His voice was also quiet and not at all snarky.

“I just want to know if you’re okay.” Atsushi crossed his arms, but it didn’t look like he was trying to seem unapproachable like Akutagawa, but like he was hugging himself.

“If you are adamant to know, we are not certain yet. A couple of tests on multiple subjects affected by the curse showed improvements of previous medical problems, though the older they were, the smaller the changes.”

“But you were a vampire the longest, right?” Was that hopefulness in his voice?

“Correct. My medical exam showed improvement.”

“What sort of … what do you mean?”

They were both staring in two different directions. It was almost as if they weren’t talking to each other.

“It got to an operable stage. I have surgery planned two days from now.”

Atsushi from the present cringed at this point, remembering what happened next. He didn’t remember it exactly, it was quite blurry, literally. His eyes were wet when he crushed Akutagawa into a hug, so happy with what his words meant. It meant it wasn’t terminal, he wasn’t going to die, he wouldn’t be in pain anymore-

Something sharp then burst through his shoulder and suddenly he was pinned to the wall where he was leaning not long ago. He cried out, grabbing his shoulder and coming to contact with Roshomon.

Fuck.

His head snapped to Akutagawa and what he saw made him forget his pain.

He wasn’t sure what it was that got to him the most. The disgust, anger, or the embarrassment on his partners face, a blatant rejection of his feelings. But mostly he was devastated how he felt about himself – he felt so much shame in that moment. Guilt. He grossly overstepped, he hadn’t realized how vulnerable Akutagawa was, he hadn’t stopped to think how it would make him feel ... he fucked up so badly.

“I-I’m sorry,” he blurted out, not really knowing what else to say.

“HEY! Get away from him this instant!”

Kunikida was running down the hall, his gun ready in his grip, aimed towards Akutagawa’s head. The man was still looking at Atsushi like he just did something unforgivable, not moving at all and not caring for all the noise they made.  

“It’s fine! It’s fine, it was my fault, I went too far, Kunikida it’s fine, I swear …” He returned his gaze to Akutagawa, who was still frozen in place. “Can you let me down, please? I won’t try anything, I’m sorry. Akutagawa …”

His name finally snapped him out of his daze and Atsushi crushed to the floor.

When his vision cleared, Kunikida was looking over his already healing shoulder and Akutagawa was rapidly walking away. He felt the need to do something, to say something that would take the action back, but he just weakly shouted: “I’m sorry!”

He couldn’t tell if he heard him.

After that, they rarely saw each other. The Mafia and the detective agency continued to work together, forming a sort of continuous alliance, but Atsushi and Akutagawa were never put on a same mission. In a moment of weakness, he asked Dazai about it, being aware he risked getting teased for it (do you miss him? Atsushi-kun, I didn’t know you liked bad boys!), but his reply was calm and … understanding?

“The world is resting right now; we don’t need the force you two bring. Give it time, I’m sure there are problems in the future for the two of you to handle,” he commented with a small smile on his face. “He is also on forced bed rest right now if I understood correctly. His condition got better, he had an operation or two.” Atsushi felt like pushing Dazai out of his chair. What was it, one operation or two!? There’s a difference! “I could arrange a visit, if you’d-”

“No! No, that’s ok, I just …” Dazai smiled at him again, as to encourage him. “I really wanted him not to hate me anymore. And I messed it up. I am just glad he’s okay, you know.”

Dazai snickered at his misfortune and the young man braced for a teasing comment.

“Give it time. No one can hate you, Atsushi.”

Thinking back on the kind sentiment, present Atsushi signed. He really doubted that. He should’ve seen Akutagawa’s face.

And then the lights were on again and Atsushi forced himself to stop reminiscing about the past. Akutagawa probably left the theatre already, so …

He turned around, almost hopeful (he scolded himself for that, what would he be hopeful for) and found the last row empty.

He ignored the gnawing feeling in his stomach (was he disappointed? Really?) and slowly made his way to the exit.

He bid the old man good night (yes, he did glance around as he did so, no brooding figure in black spotted) and went outside.

“Jinko.”

Atsushi froze on the spot, bracing for impact. When nothing happened, he slowly turned around.

Akutagawa was leaning on the wall right beside the exit, as if waiting for him. He looked … healthy. The cough apparently persisted, but so did he. His hair got longer, and it made his face look softer and he was wearing a casual sweater (still black though) with skinny jeans and Atsushi struggled not to stare.

He hasn’t seen him in a while. Was he always this pretty?

“Akutagawa. Hi.” In his mind he applauded himself for not stuttering.

Akutagawa pushed himself of the wall and walked past Atsushi, their shoulders touching ever so slightly. Was he leaving? Already? The weretiger fought the urge to grab him by the hand and … something.

“You can sit next to me. Next time.”

And then he was gone, leaving Atsushi and his malfunctioning brain to break down in peace.

*

Kyouka was staring at Atsushi staring out the window.

Lucy was staring at them staring at their respective staring objects.

“What is going on,” she muttered to herself, ignoring the costumer that was trying to order his coffee. “They’d been like that for a solid fifteen minutes.”

“Can I have an espresso? Please?”

“Did I miss something? Is this about his solo excursions everyone’s been kinda worried about lately?”

“I’ll take anything with caffeine, please.”

“I don’t think they should worry so much, he is his own person, you know,” she finally turned to the costumer and gave him a smile. “A latte?”

“Well … yes, okay.”

While Lucy was making the coffee, Kyouka finally snapped.

“Atsushi!”

He looked at her as if surprised she’s there. Did he … forget who he was getting coffee with?

“Kyouka? Did you say something?”

The girl just continued to observe him sharply. He started to feel uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. He tried to remember what she said, hoping a part of his brain was paying attention, but to no vail.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been … elsewhere.”

“Where.”

He gulped. Her stile of talking reminded him of … him. How his questions came out as statements, as if his word was law because the answer didn’t matter. He was kinda into it, though he would never admit it.

“Are you okay? I have no problem covering for you, but I can’t help being wary. You tend to self-destruct, Atsushi.”

He blinked at her.

“Cover for me?”

Her gaze became even more sharp and now he was afraid she might actually hurt him.

“You don’t think we’ve noticed your Tuesday afternoons and Thursday nights are basically untouchable? It’s the only time you care enough to stand up for yourself if we invite you somewhere. People like Dazai-san must be reminded all the time to leave you alone.”

Atsushi blushed. Why is he blushing? He’s not doing anything embarrassing, he’s just watching weird movies with weird people …

He opened and closed his mouth.

“You don’t have to tell us anything, I know we tend to snoop around too much. I like that you have your space. But I’m a bit worried and I hope you know you can trust me with anything. I just want to know you’re fine.”

Atsushi’s gaze turned fond now. She was so mature that he sometimes forgot he was supposed to be a big brother. And that she worried too much because she understood too much. She helped him have his calm … she deserved the truth.

“I’m not doing anything dangerous or something that … well, really nothing out of the ordinary. I just watch movies. Old movies, genre movies, this weird horror films and indie ones … it’s often quite boring, to be honest, low budget most of the time. But this place I found, where they play these movies, it’s special. And I like it and I like that it’s just mine, at least for now. They have screenings on Tuesdays and Thursdays and … I just really like it.” He smiled bashfully. “You know?”

Kyouka nodded and he believed her she thought it made sense.

“I am happy now, Atsushi. So, what got you so … unfocused today?”

He blushed again. Damn it.

“I don’t want to talk about that. Maybe later. Okay?”

She nodded again.

“It’s already past five o’clock, you know,” she added casually.

Atsushi stared at his phone. 17:21. Shit.

“All right, gotta go, thank you, Kyouka-chan! Bye Lucy!”

And he was gone.

Lucy silently slid into the compartment and pointedly looked at Kyouka.

“I think he has a girlfriend,” the latter said seriously, and Lucy looked like she might start crying.

*

At 17:31 he was standing before the swinging doors, gathering his courage. He understood him correctly last time, right? “You can sit next to me”. He definitely said that. Right?

“It’s about to start, kid. Your friend’s already inside.”

Atushi looked at him blankly.

“What?”

“The black and white hair guy. He’s inside.” Atsushi kept staring at the cashier who had never said so many words to him unprovoked. “You’ve been looking for him all the time. That guy.”

“You knew? You said …”

He put his headphones on. The conversation was over.

What. The.

Atsushi pushed the doors open. He can be confused inside, too.

He hovered before the last row. It was dark, but the black and white hair guy still looked in his direction.

Atsushi stepped forward. Akutagawa didn’t say anything.

Atsushi sat down. Next. To. Akutagawa. Who skewered him the last time they talked to each other.

“You are late,” he said as a form of greeting. Better than Roshomon, he’ll take it.

“Sorry. Got distracted.”

“Do not apologize. It was just an observation.”

His breath smelled of jasmine, probably because of the teacup he held in his hand.

“You forgot your beer.”

It was just another observation, but it made Atsushi happy that it was dark, because it made him blush. He noticed he drank beer. Wait. Did he even buy a ticket? Did he just run past the cashier? He could not remember. He would have to ask him later.

“I did. Maybe we could grab it together, sometimes. If you want.”

He could not believe the words that just left his mouth. Was Kyouka right, was he not okay? Why on earth.

Akutagawa didn’t respond and Atsushi decided to stop testing his luck.

The movie was not going to watch itself.

The movie was great this time, funny. He kept laughing out loud with the rest of the visitors, noticing Akutagawa shared the humor, even though he never outright laughed. He smirked, huffed, made a small sound. It made Atsushi happy. He was glad it wasn’t boring this time, even though he didn’t personally mind it.

Akutagawa barely coughed. The tea must have been helping.

Good, Atsushi thought absentmindedly as he laughed his ass off.

The movie was short but sweet and soon the credits started rolling.

“Move, jinko. I do not have all day.”

Atsushi gave him a puzzled look.

“You never stay until the end?”

“This is the end.”

“No, look, there are little drawings,” he pointed at the screen with said little drawings around the actors’ names. It was a silly attempt at getting him to stay a little longer, but he smelled so nice, and his closeness made Atsushi feel … something.

To his surprise, Akutagawa sat down again. He muttered something that sounded like “foolish jinko”, but the said jinko didn’t mind. Didn’t mind. At. All.

Atsushi also really wanted to ask him something but was once again afraid of how he would take it.

“How did you find this place?” he finally said as casually as he could.

Akutagawa went still and then relaxed again.

“None of your business.”

Atsushi chuckled.

“Okay. Fair.”

*

It became a thing. Atsushi x Akutagawa, watching movies together from the last row. Tuesdays and Thursdays were off limits, everyone knew and respected Atsushi’s wishes. It became a routine, one he has grown to adore – he got there on time, bought a ticket and beer, reserved the last row (sometimes it was occupied, and that meant Akutagawa chased them away, so Atsushi tried his best to prevent a fight breaking out by coming in early). Then, right at 17:30 or 19:30, Akutagawa would sit next to him (Atsushi on the left with Akutagawa on the right) with his steaming cup of jasmine tea in hand.

Sometimes, they wouldn’t speak at all. Sometimes, especially if it was a slow night with little visitors (which, to be honest, happened quite often), they spoke a lot, commenting the movie or talking about random stuff happening in their lives.

Then, right after or during the credit roll, Akutagawa would leave. It was as if a switch has been flipped, he did not want to be in the presence of the foolish jinko anymore, not even a second more. As if it was a mistake, as if he is ashamed, as if … Atsushi didn’t matter anymore.

Atsushi thought he didn’t mind. He liked his company, and he would take any opportunity to enjoy it. So what if he felt like shit afterwards? What mattered was what happened in between.

Because sometimes, they shared a very nice moment together. Like yesterday, for example. Atsushi could not wait to see Akutagawa again after that, even though his feelings were left a bit mixed. 

Akutagawa was late, almost half an hour. He plopped down next to Atsushi who immediately searched his very tired looking face for clues. Was he in a fight? Was something wrong? Why did he even come if he was so tired? It made Atsushi happy for some reason.

“Long day,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. Akutagawa rarely spoke so casually which made Atsushi a bit worried, but he decided he wouldn’t pry.

Then he noticed he forgot his tea. He really wanted to make him comfortable, so he excused himself and hurried towards the exit.

When he came back, he found a slouched and almost asleep man sprawled across two seats.

“Here, I got you your tea,” he said after a second of admiring his colleague, who struggled to stay awake, and handed him his jasmine concoction.

Akutagawa slowly blinked at him and then froze. Seconds passed and he still hasn’t reached for it. Atsushi’s brain went into overdrive. Where exactly did he fuck up this time?

“Did I mess the flavor up? I was sure it was jasmine, want me to go grab another one?”

Akutagawa blinked at him.

“Jinko. Why did you get me this.”

Atsushi shrugged.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it, I just felt like doing something nice.”

“Why.”

“I … I like you and you looked tired, and I wanted to make you comfortable.” He didn’t even realize what he just implied. He was just desperate to not see the older one bolt. Or skewer him again.

Another long moment passed, and Akutagawa finally reached for the steaming cup, making sure he didn’t accidentally touch the weretigers fingers. Atsushi then sat down in his chair, face burning up (his declaration caught up to him). Thank God for the dark.

“Thank you,” Akutagawa said softly, and the blush deepened.

As expected, Akutagawa didn’t last, not even after his green tea. When Atsushi turned to him so they could laugh together at a funny scene, he found the man fast asleep. He just smiled softly and tried (and failed) not to sneak glances at his sleeping form. He was so glad he could see in the dark.

And then it happened. He was secretly hoping for it since he detected the bags under his eyes.

Akutagawa leaned on him.

Atsushi internally squealed.

Someone died onscreen but the weretiger suddenly forgot about everything that wasn’t the man on his shoulder. His lips were parted so he would probably soon start drooling on his shoulder, but Atsushi surely wouldn’t mind. He was breathing slowly, and he could feel his tickling breath on his collarbone.

He wanted so bad to hug him, but his right arm was now trapped, and he was not going to risk waking him up.

So, he just leaned slightly in and brushed his lips over the top of his head.

Jasmine. He smelled so nice.

“Atsushi.”

It was his turn to freeze. Fuck. He woke him up. What is he about to do, should he run? Is he going to-

Wait. His brain commanded him to stop and think.

Atsushi?

Was the mafioso dreaming?

He forced himself to relax, not wanting to wake him up by having a stiff body.

Did he just call his name? He said it rather nicely. Gently. Like he liked him, too. It was nice to think his partner dreamt about him, in his dreams he called him by his first name. He would very much like to visit those dreams, thank you very much. See them displayed on the screen. Oh, my.

“Atsushi,” the man signed again and this time there was no denying it – it was said with zero hate and all the adoration. Atsushi could feel his heart swell with … something.

He couldn’t help it. He leaned in again, smiling against his temple.

And then Akutagawa moved. He buried his head in the crook of Atsushi’s neck, slowly nuzzling him, accidentally stopping the weretigers heart. He slowly breathed out over his neck and Atsushi gasped at the sensation.

“Atsushi.” This time it was different. It wasn’t that gentle anymore. There was something insistent behind that. Something more … complicated. What was he dreaming about?

But then he lifted his hand and grabbed Atsushi by his collar, tugging at it, and dispersing the fantasy that he was dreaming. He was and probably has been … awake.

“Atsushi.” It was amazing how many emotions he displayed by saying his name over and over again. The weretiger could listen to it all day. By tugging on his shirt, bumping his head towards his neck, all the while sighing his name … made him come across as needy.

For what?

He was almost in his lap now, draping one hand across his shoulders and the other across his chest, curling his entire body towards him.

Atsushi realized this was probably the right time to make a move of his own.

With his free hand he tentatively ran his fingers across Akutagawa’s arm, making the older man shudder (wow. He could get used to this). He slowly reached his fingers, gently caressing the back of his hand, face now completely buried in his black and white hair, breathing it in, committing the sensations to memory.

“Atsushi.”

He was squeezing his heart with his words. This one was said with so much sadness, longing, almost as if in tears. He finally pulled his right arm free and hugged him bodily, running his hand through his soft hair, grazing his scalp, desperate to soothe him, to comfort him.

Akutagawa quickly responded to the touch, grabbing on even tighter and making a restrained sound that made Atsushi want to die.

He inclined his head so that their foreheads were now touching. They were both breathing deeply, trying to stay quiet, still gripping each other as if afraid to let go.

“Atsushi,” Akutagawa whispered again, questioningly this time, moving his head slightly away, trying to look into his eyes.

Beautiful, thought Atsushi, gazing into the others face. Perfect. Gorgeous.

His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, the blush apparent. Divine. For a second, he worried how he looked to him, but decided it didn’t matter. Akutagawa seemed into it. Seemed really into it.

And he was asking for something. Maybe it was for permission, or maybe …

“Atsushi.”

Atsushi kissed him.

*

One second, they were basically glued together, like lovers who found each other after a long time being divided. And then the lights came on.

It was as if someone pressed a rewind button. No, reset. Erase.

Akutagawa disentangled himself from the hug in a millisecond, jumping to his feet, immediately turning to leave. His hair was a mess, his clothes ruffled, face downcast as if thoroughly embarrassed.

“Wait!” Atsushi jumped to his feet, a mix of emotions filling his chest, which, just a few second ago, felt filled to the brim with something fuzzy. It was quickly turning into a storm now.

He reached for Akutagawa’s hand, who immediately yanked it free with a force as if they just had a huge fight, as if they weren’t happily snuggling just moments ago.

“Wait, just wait, Akutagawa, please,” he quietly pleaded as they passed the swinging doors, the cashier, the dark alleyway. “Don’t go.”

Akutagawa finally stopped; his back turned towards him.

“What happened? I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me. I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize.” He looked back without fully turning, showing just a part of his profile; his eyes looked strangely glazed over. “See you next week, jinko.”

He thought about running after him, shaking him into telling him what happened, explain it to him because apparently, he wasn’t smart enough to comprehend what on earth just happened. What were they? If he didn’t do anything wrong, then what the fuck was wrong?

He slowly continued walking, hugging himself while he was mulling it over. He was so fucking happy and so utterly destroyed at the same time. Was he happy? Was Akutagawa happy?

He shook his head, to overwhelmed to think straight.

Next week. Things would make sense next week.

*

“Atsushi.”

The feeling of his lips on his was still fresh in his mind. He kept absent-mindedly touching them during the day, thinking about yesterday’s happening over and over and over again.

“Ground control to Atsushi-kun. Are you out there?”

They liked each other, right? The way he kept saying his name … hell, the things they did on that poor theatre chair … how could they not like each other? Atsushi’s feelings were made pretty clear, he was sure, but Akutagawa’s …

“Should we get Yosano-sensei?”

The way he couldn’t wait to get away from him. Was he ashamed of him? Were they meant to keep it in the dark, literally? Could Atsushi do that? He was carrying his heart on his sleeve, for better or for worst. They were fucking heroes who literally saved the fucking world, they were extremely fucking powerful gifted individuals who took shit from nobody unless they chose to. Was being gay really that important after all fucking that? Was that fucking it?

He was suddenly feeling so very mad. And then he felt a hand on his head, his body deflating.

Shit. Did he just transform?

He blinked at Dazai, Kyouka and Naomi leaning over him, each looking a different type of worried.

“I’m gay.”

His brain malfunctioned so many times in the last few weeks he wasn’t even surprised at his oddly timed declaration. He just felt like getting it out there. Right fucking now. Fucking deal with it or get lost.

Dazai just smiled, Naomi turned red, and Kyouka remained neutral.

“Oh, boyfriend then,” she murmured to herself, probably making a mental note to share this news with Lucy.

“Is this an identity crisis or do you have heart problems?” asked Dazai for clarification, siting on his desk, still smiling at him.

Atsushi rested his head on his desk, studying his freshly ripped gloves.

“Heart,” he simply said.

Naomi kept talking about how she doesn’t have anything against queers, how she is actually friends with one, but no one was paying attention to her ramblings.

“I will carve out his heart if he hurt you,” Kyouka said with a resolve no child her age should possess, which made Atsushi chuckle.

“It’s fine. I’m just very confused. I should concentrate on work, I know. I’m sorry.”

“We’re not Kunikida, don’t apologize about not doing your paperwork to us. It’s a slow week, like the previous one. Want to go get something to eat?” offered Dazai.

Atsushi slowly lifted his head. He could always eat.

“Great! And then, we could go drinking in the evening!”

Atsushi and Kyouka shared a look.

“But it’s Friday. Aren’t Fridays … you know. Your day?”

Dazai gave him another heart-warming smile. He got them more and more lately. He didn’t really stop to think about it that much, because he had his head occupied with Akutagawa, but his mentor was quite happy for some time now. Not a goofy, over-the-top kind of “happy” he liked to display as a theatre performance, but a calm, serene type of happy. His mentions of suicide methods were still present, but maybe it was just the “old habits die hard” in action.

“What are friends for, if not days like this, eh? But don’t worry, maybe you’ll even meet her.”

*

He felt like dying. Not like when he was wrapping his hands around Akutagawa’s body, but like he was drowning.

The door was closed. There was no writing on it, no notice, just … nothing. As if it didn’t happen, as if it never existed.

It was 17:28. The Sorcerer’s door stayed closed.

People were gathered in the alley, trying to decipher what was going on. Maybe the old man was sick, maybe the police shut it down, maybe maybe maybe. Atsushi was breathing heavily, scanning the narrow place for a hint of black.

He took off. He was afraid he would simply turn away if he saw the people, guessing what had happened.

He turned the corner, stopping in front of Akutagawa.

One look and he knew.

The run-down movie theatre wasn’t going to stay forever.

It was a temporary respite.

Moments in between.

Stolen from time.

Everything had an expiration date.

They had just burst in flames.

The tears started running down his face as he watched the man he loved walk away from him.

*

Dazai met him at the bar he took him to last Friday where he really did meet his girlfriend (he couldn’t really think about their happiness right now, not when he was feeling like this). He liked this place, it even had live music on Fridays and Saturdays. They sat in a booth in the corner of the bar (the music was just radio today, unfortunately) as Atsushi sulked and Dazai patiently waited for him to start talking.

“I won’t chase him. If he doesn’t want me, I can’t keep jumping through hoops for him.”

“That’s right. How mature of you, Atsushi-kun!”

“But I can’t help but wonder … if it stayed opened just a little bit more, a month, two months … why did it had to happen right after … fuck.”

Dazai choked on his drink. It was the first time he heard his protégé curse.

“Is it just the timing? I can’t keep waiting for these random windows of time. Should I wait? Should I at least say my piece? Leave him alone? I don’t know what the fuck he even wants.” He took a sip of his drink, staring at the empty stage in front of them. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to push him. But if he cares just a little bit about me, shouldn’t I expect him to at least be honest with me? ‘I’m not ready’ or something. ‘I’m sorry I’m such an asshole sometimes’. What about ‘I’m a little homophobic, sorry about that’. Or maybe just ‘I’m worried about my reputation being in the Port Mafia and all, I am such a big shot that I think being gay would instantly destroy me even though I skewer anyone that dares to look at me sideways’.”

Atsushi banged his head on the dirty table while Dazai coughed. He didn’t take a sip, so he was choking on air.

“A-Atsushi-kun, are you talking about Akutagawa?”

Atsushi rolled his eyes, annoyed at nothing in particular.

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Atsushi ignored him.

“I’m just so fucking hurt, Dazai-san. I feel like trash, and I really don’t think I deserve to feel like trash, which is … something. You know me. It’s weird that I … I realize that.” He felt his eyes watering but didn’t care to wipe at them. “God, I wish we had more time.”

*

Life got back on track. The workload was steadily rising, criminal activity getting back on track as well. Atsushi was glad for the distraction, throwing himself into work. His Tuesdays and Thursdays felt empty even after a month and even though the movie theatre was no more, he still hasn’t accepted anyone’s invitation to hang out on these days. On a few occasions he went back, hoping he would find the door open, but it never opened again. He tried to fill that time with new hobbies – recently he took to reading, though still mostly about films and filmography, renting out movies, too.

“Atsushi-kun, I got a mission for you!” sang Dazai the second he got through the door, holding a stack of papers in his hand. The folder was black, a tale-tell sign of joint mission with the-

“Port Mafia? Send someone else,” said Atsushi almost immediately, still sore about everything to do with Him.

Dazai pouted.

“Don’t be like that, Atsushi-kun. We finally found a mission worthy of the two of you!” His suspicions were confirmed. A mission with Him. No, thank you. “Aren’t you supposed to protect Yokohama? The world? What happened to your ideals?”

“Ideals are very important, Atsushi,” Kunikida chimed in, not looking over his computer, probably tuned out of the conversation, but sucked in at the mentioned of the Word.

“Yeah, what he said!”

Atsushi rubbed his forehead. He knew he wasn’t actually going to refuse the mission the moment he saw the black folder.

He put his hand out and Dazai quickly deposited the folder in his waiting palm, as if worried he would change his mind.

As if.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again.

Fuck.

*

It was just like the old days. Yes, they basically really fought together just twice, but their chemistry felt so natural it felt like something older, routine at this point. Their meeting was awkward (thank God Dazai and Chuuya were there for the joint briefing), their train ride to the neighboring city uncomfortable but the fighting … that was nice.

It wasn’t that hard, not exactly a mission “worthy of the two of you!”, as Dazai put it, but it still stirred something slumbering inside Atsushi. He remembered two important things; how much he missed the adrenaline of a good, coordinated fight and how much he missed Akutagawa.

He was still hopelessly in love with the man. Yeah.

The said man kept quiet most of the time, while Atsushi tried giving him his space. He was determined not to say anything regarding their last encounter, for the sake of both of them.

It was what it was. He stopped fighting it.

He would still ogle him, though. He looked really pretty right now, standing in front of him, dresses in his casual clothes. He had the same sweater he wore on their first movie theatre meet-cute, the same jeans, too. He felt himself blushing but didn’t really care. Akutagawa knew. And if he didn’t, well that was his problem.

“What is it?” Atsushi finally asked. They were staying at a hotel for the night, they weren’t that far from Yokohama, but their mission was supposed to take more time, so right now they just sat back and relaxed. In separate rooms, of course.

Then he heard a knock at the door and found a cute, although brooding looking boy in front of it.

“Come with me.”

It was said with his usual commanding tone, but to quiet to be threatening.

“Oh. Where are we going?”

Akutagawa wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Come.” Almost … pleading.

Atsushi grabbed his coat and followed Akutagawa in the chilly night.

They fell in synchrony, walking side by side down the busy streets. Atsushi tried to guess where they were going or what they were doing, maybe sightseeing? He tried not to ask to many questions, allowing Akutagawa to lead them.

Atsushi relaxed. He could almost pretend everything was okay. They didn’t talk, so nothing was wrong, everything was open. He could be a tourist, walking down the streets in the company of his boyfriend, and now they were grabbing a bite to eat, maybe catch a concert, then go to bed, together, and-

He noticed his “boyfriend” stopped walking and he turned around.

“We’re here.”

There was a group of people around them, looking almost familiar. They were in a line, getting tickets.

“Oh,” Atsushi said.

A movie theatre.

“What are we watching?”

Akutagawa seemed to let out a breath of air he was holding in. He pointed to the poster at the entrance.

Sorcerer.

“Wait. It’s a movie?”

Akutagawa smiled. Smiled. Atsushi felt the need to pinch himself. What a sight.

“Come on. I’m buying,” he then said, gently tugging him towards the line by the elbow.

Atsushi felt like fainting.

It was a much better theatre than the one they were used to. They had popcorn and a variety of drinks, plus the seats had cupholders.

It felt a bit weird, but not in a bad way. Just different.

The movie was a masterpiece, and the company was exquisite, Atsushi really couldn’t complain. He still secretly pretended he was there with his boyfriend, their hands gently brushing on the shared handrest (this part he didn’t imagine. It was real), almost deliberate. Almost.

And then the lights were on and there was something bitter-sweet about it.

Atsushi signed. Expiration date. Right.

But when they were leaving, their hands brushed again.

And then they were holding hands.

Atsushi turned his head away from Akutagawa. He wasn’t the one to go for it. It was the other. And they were leaving the theatre, the lights were on, what was he thinking?

Their hands fit perfectly together. One was warm, the other cold, complementing each other as always. Atsushi squeezed his hand and got a squeeze in return. Fuck.

They were out. They were out. In the dark of night, but under the lights, for everyone to see.

They were still holding hands.

“Did you like it?” asked Akutagawa, squeezing his hand again.

“Yeah. Yes, I did.”