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Life after rejection, Atsushi finds, continues as usual.
He wakes up, brushes his teeth, changes his clothes and goes about his day like everyone else. When the lecturer asks him a question, he answers politely, and when a customer asks him where he helps guide them to the right aisle as he would have done any other day.
He does everything he always does, and there is no difference, except for the distinct lack of a brown-haired white-bandaged companion as time marches forward.
They say that it eventually lets up, that it becomes easier, but Atsushi can only recognize that he only feels as muted as the day before, and the day before that, when he opens his eyes in the morning.
It’s been, what, two weeks since he’s last seen Dazai? Atsushi can’t say he particularly wants to see the man, but nonetheless his head turns for everyone who shares his hairstyle and colour, and he traces every bandaged limb he finds in the crowds—that split second where he believes to have seen Dazai is the only time his day feels colourful again. It’s an urge rather than a want, some uncontrolled tick he’s made a habit of.
He doesn’t know what is more sickening: the spike of his heart rate, rising in anticipation, or the realization that it was not Dazai after all.
He’s better off avoiding the question, so this time, as he is returning from a day of college lectures, he keeps his head down, and continues to do so until he rounds the corner to walk down the hall to his dorm room.
His steps slow down as he approaches his door and he fishes out his keys. When he finally looks up, it is to a man leaning against his door, with brown hair and a trail of bandages peeking out from under his clothes.
Atsushi blinks once, but the figure in front of him doesn’t dissipate like he expects it to, so he blinks again and yes, indeed, it’s Dazai. His heart threatens to hammer out of his chest.
Dazai’s waiting for him, in front of his dorm room. He can see an envelope peeking from the crevices of his crossed arms and recognizes it instantly, for it was the one given to him the last they’d met up and Atsushi inadvertently got his heart broken.
“There you are,” Dazai greets, pushing himself off the door and turning his body towards Atsushi with effortless grace.
Atsushi stares, wide-eyed, but remembers his manners soon enough and smiles at Dazai, whose slightly quirked brow in response signals that it had to look like a particularly strained and awkward smile.
There’s a beat of hesitation before Dazai says, carefully neutrally, “You forgot this. I figured I should return it to you now.”
“Ah.”
He accepts the envelope, and then, without really having planned to, opens it, and makes a quick calculation of the amount inside: the agreed sum. At least Dazai hadn’t scammed him.
Now that he thinks about it… How could he have been so stupid to not have picked it back up last time? Pride or feelings weren’t going to pay his bills! And besides, with this he could eat his feelings away. He deserved to splurge on a nice meal soon.
“Thank you,” Atsushi says eventually, keeping his eyes glued firmly on the envelope. With no sound from Dazai, or a sign that he was going to leave now, he followed up with, “Is there… Is there something else?”
“Yep,” Dazai replies cheerfully, prompting Atsushi to look up at him in surprise. “Do you mind if we go inside?”
Before he can agree or protest, Dazai ushers him inside and closes the door behind him. Atsushi stands awkwardly, envelop still in hand and watching Dazai as he makes himself comfortable on his bed.
Dazai flicks a stray hair off the bed and then glances at Atsushi’s bewildered expression. “Oh, do you mind that I didn’t take my shoes off?”
“… No.”
“Great! But why won’t you sit down?”
Atsushi shuffles backwards and rigidly sits down on his desk chair, feeling like a guest at his own place. There was no telling what Dazai wanted to talk about, and honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to hear the man out. The pounding of his heart against his ribcage was becoming painful now.
He swallows, trying to relieve his abnormally dry throat to no avail. Dazai studies him with a relaxed smile, as though he was aware of no wrong in the world, and Atsushi remembers against his will that despite everything he still likes him very much, because that smile shouldn’t stir anything inside him.
“I’m sure you must be dying to know what I have to say, Atsushi-kun.”
“Something like that,” Atsushi replies leniently, hoping that whatever Dazai had to say was not going to mortify him in any shape or form.
What he doesn’t expect however was for Dazai to turn his face away so Atsushi could not see his expression anymore. A couple of seconds pass and Atsushi even follows Dazai’s line of sight, searching the wall Dazai was looking at for something that had perhaps grabbed his attention.
Eventually, Dazai speaks, and his voice is uncharacteristically gentle when he does, “I knew… someone.”
“Someone dear to you, right?” Atsushi asks intuitively, but also wondering what prompted Dazai to start about it.
There’s a quiet sound coming from Dazai, sounding like a snort, and his bangs move slightly as he inclines his head. “What makes you think that?”
The atmosphere has become instantly delicate yet casual and Atsushi folds his hands together. “You wouldn’t have mentioned them otherwise.”
He watches how Dazai tilts his head backwards and stares at the ceiling, but doesn’t follow his gaze. “He was a friend,” Dazai eventually explains, having not lost an ounce of that softness. “The man who encouraged me to do better after my past.”
Atsushi’s eyes are drawn to the white of his bandages, wrapped expertly around the slopes of his neck and throat, but doesn’t pry into what this emphasis on past means.
Suddenly, he remembers something. He hesitates, throat dry and heart heavy, but he manages to get it out at last. “Last time you said you wouldn’t be good for me… Does that have anything to do with it?”
“Very clever, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai praises, and it makes Atsushi warm despite the chill remembering that rejection initially brought.
And just as he’s about to speak, Dazai perks up with incredible speed and grins at him, “I’m kidding!”
A beat passed in silence.
“... Right,” Atsushi deadpans, but he lets Dazai drop the subject nonetheless. Somehow that little bit of information had somehow revealed a world about him, one that Atsushi had never quite been able to formulate a coherent impression of.
He mulls on it for a moment, before making a quick, silent prayer for this departed friend of Dazai and unclasping his hands again.
When he lifts gaze back up, Dazai is still smiling with his typical nonchalance.
“I’ll leave now, Atsushi-kun. And for the record, I really did enjoy our time together.”
The words are glass shards to his heart yet put his mind at ease all the same. This sense of reciprocation meant the world to him, but he says nothing. It’s a miracle he can still have a semi-casual conversation with Dazai despite the sting of rejection from last time radiating throughout his entire body.
Dazai motions towards the money before making a move to stand up. “Better spend the money quickly. I borrowed it from Kunikida-kun.”
How typical. “Can Kunikida-san trust to get his money back?”
Dazai shrugs, turning towards the door. “Eh, depends on my mood,” he replies as he slips through the door crack.
Just as Atsushi is about to mutter a polite goodbye, Dazai’s head shifts towards the side, just enough to see a few stray hairs sticking out of his side part, but not to let him see his eyes.
“All of it was real, Atsushi-kun, except for the dating.”
His heart clenches and so does his jaw, but it’s not enough to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “Can’t it be real?” It’s desperate, maybe, but Atsushi is nothing if not persistent. Besides, he’s already dealt with rejection from Dazai once, another time would, hopefully, probably, not kill him.
Dazai finally turns his head enough to allow Atsushi a glimpse of his wide eyes, and he presses on with more courage than he actually feels. “I know you said you wouldn’t be good for me, but don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”
He allows the question to hang in the air for a moment before continuing despite the protesting voices in the back of his mind, “If everything was real except for the dating, then it means nothing has to change if we change the fake dating to real dating, you know? Although I understand if you don’t want to do that, I mean, just look at me–”
“Do you think I’m a good person?”
That finally manages to stop Atsushi blurting out a whole cascade of embarrassing and self-deprecating confessions. What kind of question was that?
“Yes,” Atsushi replies, frowning.
“Yes?” Dazai echoes.
“Yes,” Atsushi says. “How is that relevant?”
“It’s not,” Dazai answers with half-shrug, but as he steps back into the room, he takes Atsushi’s hands into his own with a tenderness unbefitting of his tone. He breathes in as if he’s bracing himself for something.
“Alright, Atsushi-kun. Since you want it, let’s do it for real.” Dazai squeezes his hands. “Let’s date. ”
Atsushi looks down at their intertwined hands and then back up at, searching for an edge of mockery or sarcasm that was nowhere to be found.
Dazai smiles. “I mean it, Atsushi-kun.”
“Oh.” Atsushi blinks, wide-eyed. “I hadn’t expected…”
This remark is rewarded with a flick to the nose by Dazai, who then proceeds to let go of his hands, but this sudden loss of warmth does not last long. Atsushi finds himself leaning forward instantaneously, not much shy of a leap, and wraps his arms around his shoulders so as to burrow himself in the crook of his neck.
Dazai’s chest rises and falls with an increasing pace, but eventually he comes to reciprocate this sudden embrace and rests his chin on the top of Atsushi’s chest.
When they break apart he’s quick to invite him back inside his room, but before Dazai is able to step inside, Atsushi surges towards him and presses a kiss to his lips, warm, but new and familiar all at the same time.
He’s met with a happy yet questioning expression from Dazai, and to that, Atsushi smiles and says, “Can’t I kiss my not-pretend boyfriend?”