Work Text:
And you say I abandoned the ship
But I was going down with it
My white knuckle dying grip
Holding tight to your quiet resentment and
My friends said it isn't right to be scared- so long london; t. swift.
Atsushi didn’t cry. Not as he grabbed his bags and headed for the door. Not as Ryuunosuke stayed where he was, not moving, not caring. Atsushi put on his shoes, one at a time, buying time.
Stay, Atsushi yelled inside his head, tell me to stay.
Ryuunosuke didn’t. Atsushi’s hand lingered on the doorknob, hesitating once again. And then he left. Ryuunosuke let him go.
He didn’t cry as he walked down the hall and to the elevator, the distance between him and Ryuunosuke getting bigger and bigger. Though, he thought, bitterly, the distance was always there, wasn’t it? And no matter what Atsushi did, it stayed. It was all the same thing over and over. He rested his forehead against the cool glass wall of the elevator, waiting for it to take him to the bottom floor. It was the same, always the same. Distance, arguing, kissing, sex, empty beds, distance, arguing. Atsushi loved Ryuunosuke, loved him so much he waited. He waited and waited for it all to turn sweet. Waited for Ryuunosuke to say what Atsushi wanted. He never did.
Atsushi supposed it was his own fault, for thinking that he was lovable. He didn’t cry, even at this thought. He didn’t cry as he left the apartment building and hailed a taxi. Didn’t cry as Yokohama passed by, and he became farther and farther from Ryuunosuke. Didn’t cry as he clutched onto his phone in a desperate grip.
Call me, Atsushi thought, Call me and beg me to stay.
His phone didn’t ring.
Maybe it was a good thing. If Ryuunosuke called, if he hinted at wanting them to stay together… Atsushi would melt. He would fold and let himself get dragged into Ryuunosuke again. And it’d be the same thing, the same damn thing. Always asking, always reaching, never getting.
“Fuck you,” Atsushi muttered, fingers tangling into white hair and pulling. He still didn’t cry. “Fuck you all the way to hell.”
He got out in front of the agency’s dorms. He still remembered how he’d gradually stopped coming here, as his things stayed at Ryuunosuke’s place clear as day. He remembered putting his things in Ryuunosuke’s closet; wearing his clothes and using his utensils – and they were his too for a while. For a while, everything was just theirs. He remembered thinking he had the world in his hands. He dragged his bags up the stairs. He stopped in front of his old dorm, reaching for his old key before hesitating.
Instead, he turned and walked to the door next to his and knocked. It stayed quiet. He knocked again, frantically. Finally, it opened. Dazai-san stood there, face rumpled with sleep, looking at him confusedly for a second before melting into something like concern.
Atsushi opened his mouth and tried to say something, but all that came out was a sob. He hadn’t cried until then but finally, there, at Dazai-san’s door, he cried. He cried so hard, his body keeled over, and Dazai-san’s hands came to steady him. He cried so hard his body dry heaved, shuddering with each sob. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, could only cry.
He felt like a child. Hands led him into Dazai-san’s dorm, and into the one couch he owned. Atsushi continued crying, Dazai-san’s hands left him and after a minute, water was placed in front of him.
Distantly, he heard Dazai-san asking what was wrong. Was Ryuunosuke okay? Did they fight? But no matter what Atsushi tried to say, it only came out as more desperate sobs. Still, this deep in his grief, he found it in himself to curse Ryuunosuke, for making him go through this.
Eventually, the water was pushed towards him and he gulped down desperate mouthfuls of air before tentatively sipping, having to pull away to sob every now and then. His sobs became less loud and desperate, until he was crying quietly, curled up in the corner of Dazai-san’s couch, feeling miserable and pathetic.
Dazai-san hovered over him, looking a little frantic as he tried to figure out what to do. At any other moment, this sight would amuse Atsushi into a better mood. Now he just felt more miserable. It should be Ryuunosuke, hovering over him, asking him what was wrong.
Atsushi didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he remembered waking up to a hushed conversation. He blinked blearily at the ceiling, then turned his head towards the source, Dazai-san was holding both of his bags in each hand, frantically whispering to someone at the door. Atsushi blinked at the sight. Before shutting his eyes and pulling the blanket Dazai-san must have laid over him over his head and falling back asleep.
Atsushi woke up again in the morning. His body ached. His mouth was an odd combination of sticky and dry. His eyes and nose hurt. Everything hurt.
Did Ryuunosuke hurt? He didn’t want to think about him, but he couldn’t stop it. Was he miserable without Atsushi? Did he even notice Atsushi wasn’t there?
Dazai-san placed toast and eggs in front of him. They were nicely done, which meant someone else must’ve come in when Atsushi was asleep and made them. Kunikida-san probably. Dazai-san watched him eat. Atsushi ate for that very reason, even though he only managed a few bites in the end.
Dazai-san cleared the plates and then came back with two cups of coffee. He sat next to Atsushi, stiff and awkward, and turned the TV on. Atsushi didn’t speak, just held the cup and let it warm his hands.
“Dazai-san,” Atsushi said, after the show ended and another started playing, “am I unlovable?”
Dazai-san stilled and stayed quiet. Atsushi waited. There was a tenseness to his shoulders – one Atsushi could feel more than see.
“You’re–” he paused, searching for words, in a very unlike-Dazai manner. Atsushi didn’t know what to make of it. “Atsushi-kun, out of everyone, you are one of the easiest people to love.” He sounded stiff, still. Not as if he was lying, but as if he had trouble speaking. This didn’t really bother Atsushi, who was used to Dazai-san trying to be honest and vulnerable. He always sounded stiff, even when he was genuine.
What Dazai-san said should’ve made him feel better. There, proof that it wasn’t his fault. That there was nothing inherently wrong with him. And yet… And yet, if he was so lovable… if he was not inherently fucked up… why?
“Why?” He mumbled, grip tightening on his cup.
“Why what, Atsushi-kun?”
“Then why didn’t he— ” Atsushi put the cup down, instead bringing his hands to grip at his hair, “Why didn’t he love me, Dazai-san? I loved him so much – I love him so much, even now. All I wanted — more than anything I wanted him to just look at me.” Tears pooled in his eyes again and he felt his body shake with sobs. He pulled at his hair, but it did little to ground him. After a moment, hands pulled his hands away. Atsushi found himself being pulled to Dazai-san’s side, in a hug.
“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai-san started. “I–”
“I just wanted him,” Atsushi mumbled, “I just— why did he even agree to go out with me if he just couldn’t love me?”
Dazai-san continued to hold him. Urging him to breathe, and keeping his hands away from his hair.
“I believe,” Dazai-san said, quietly, “that Akutagawa does love you… he is just bad at expressing it—”
“Stop it,” Atsushi hissed. “There’s no way–”
“Atsushi, Akutagawa cares—”
“Why didn’t he tell me to stay?” Atsushi asked, bitterly, “why didn’t he show me? Why didn’t he love me?”
“Atsushi…”
“Dazai-san, please tell me. What’s wrong with me? Why couldn’t I get him to care, even a little?”
“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai-san hesitated, then sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing was your fault. How Akutagawa… acted… had nothing to do with you.”
Atsushi opened his mouth to protest, because there must’ve been something. But Dazai-san pulled him closer, before he could. Atsushi felt small, there, needing Dazai-san to comfort him as if he were— god, was he such a burden?
He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but he snapped to attention when another figure sat by him.
“Is he alright?” Kunikida-san’s voice asked. Dazai-san shifted slightly, made to make more room for him.
“He’s Atsushi,” Dazai-san said, Atsushi blinked slowly, feeling tired, “he has to be.”
Atsushi felt himself fall asleep, as Dazai-san and Kunikida-san continued to talk.
When he awoke again, he still felt awful, but he could no longer cry. Akutagawa didn’t call him. He didn’t call him. He didn’t want him. Atsushi sighed. Fuck. What was he meant to do without Akutagawa?
He took in a shuddering breath. He hoped that at least with this, with leaving, he’d made Akutagawa happy. That he’d made everything easier for him.