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Akutagawa didn’t know when it started, but it’s something that is so instinctive to him now.
It's a weird concept, love. He loves his sister in a way that he would do anything to protect her. When he takes walks around the city, he would see couples, young and old, show affection to each other as if it was that easy. But with Atsushi, it’s different. With him, it’s more than just the word. It’s a feeling that warms his heart every time their fingers tangle together, and the rare smile that creeps up on him whenever the other tells him how much he loves him.
“My love,” is what Atsushi would say as he holds him with such gentle hands. Just thinking about it makes his chest feel so warm. He calls him love like it’s his name.
So when the two found each other on a rooftop, pressing lips for the first time under the lunar’s halo, Akutagawa started keeping score. Their lips clicked like two puzzle pieces, leaving them breathless as they whispered endless ‘I love you’s’ between each breath. When he sees Atsushi smile like that and kiss him as if it were out of habit, that’s when he knows they are at 100%. It’s not that love can really be turned into true, hard, numbers, but it helps him keep gauge—just in case.
He loves Atsushi, how could anyone not. Loving Atsushi was easier than breathing itself. To have someone like that in his life—he couldn’t help but think how lucky he is. He’s not sure why or how they were brought together but he is so honored the universe allowed him to experience a part of his life next to someone like Atsushi.
But it’s hard for him to say if Atsushi feels the same.
When they argue, Akutagawa could expect less kisses on his cheeks and a growing distance between him and the other. On worse days, Atsushi would leave altogether, letting him wallow alone in their shared apartment with only silence and cold air to comfort him. Once, Akutagawa said something stupid, really stupid. He doesn’t even know how the argument started in the first place but he was already having a bad day and to come home to Atsushi pressing all the wrong buttons just made it worse. There was so much yelling on both sides and he wasn’t thinking (because when has he ever been) and he screamed, “Who could even love someone like you!”
It was a rash and emotional response, they both knew it, but the second those words left his mouth, he immediately regretted it. Seeing the way Atsushi’s expression shut down and became emotionless was something he could never forget. That night, Atsushi left him alone for a week without any response to any of his text messages or calls.
Based on all of it, that’s how the math works out.
Everyday starts with 100%. The sun would shine in between the folds of the curtains as Atsushi peckered him with kisses on his cheeks. Throughout the day, the two would share pictures of their lunches or even meet up with each other at nearby cafes on their breaks. Or sometimes, a simple ‘Love you,’ and ‘Missing you,’ would come as a text. Then, they would find their way home and cuddle up on their shared couch. Every missing kiss and daily text messages would subtract a percent.
It wasn’t like there was a set amount of daily affirmations of their love, but if he opens his phone to no notifications or comes home without a welcome-home-kiss, the score would lower. On the other hand, if Atsushi was being particularly affectionate in ways that truly make his heart flutter, then the percentage would rise.
Ideally, he’d like to keep it near to 100% as possible, just to make sure that Atsushi thought he was worth staying for.
Akutagawa was always a burden. He was too much for his parents to stay. And he was way too much of a heavy load to be seen as something valuable to Dazai. The last thing he would want is Atsushi to see him as not being worth the struggle and as something that he doesn’t want anymore.
But, of course, fluctuations in his score are bound to occur, so he decides perhaps around 85-90% should be ideal. Everyday, there would be little things—here and there—that would lower the score. Somedays, Atsushi would go on a mission and forget to return his text messages: minus 1%. Or he wouldn’t text him ‘Goodnight, my love,’ as he usually does when he’s gone for a long stretch of time: minus 5%. On other days, they would argue over something minor, like whenever he forgets to do the dishes: minus 10%.
By keeping track, he can make sure that Atsushi loves him. He needs it—craves it. In theory, it’s selfish to want this much love from someone. But there are so many things about himself that are irreparable that he has to keep conscious of how much the other loves him. Is it wrong to just be wanted?
Though, major arguments are bound to happen in any relationship. It was an accident. They were fighting and it only got worse and worse.
Akutagawa comes back to their apartment with a large gash that drips blood all over their wooden floor. As he drags himself in, he sees Atsushi’s eyes widen with a flurry of emotions behind them. Through layers of bandages and bottles of antiseptic, he finds the pain in his shoulder turn to stinging behind his eyes and deep hurt in his chest.
“How many times have I told you to be careful! To take care of yourself!” Atsushi yelled as he finished securing the ends of the gauze wrapped around his shoulder. “You’re so selfish!”
“I’m trying!” He screams back with a crack in his voice.
“You know how selfish it is of you to just throw your life on the line like that! Do you even think about me?”
Of course he does. He tried, he really did, but everything was just moving so fast and his mind was a jumbled mess. One thing led to another and Rashomon wasn’t quick enough to prevent knife stabbing through his shoulder blades.
The guilt always hurts more than the stab or gunshot wounds themselves. Ever since their fight with Fukichi, he’s been trying—he really has—to try to not throw himself recklessly into battle and to make sure he comes home with his blood kept safe in his veins. So when Atsushi tells him he’s selfish and yells at him now, it hurts more than any wound that could be inflicted on his body.
A choked sob comes out of his throat and tears begin erupting behind his pupils. He’s trying to keep it quiet and not make himself look like something that Atsushi would regret being around. But it gets worse and worse. The yelling rings in his ears and all he can do is sit there and cry like the burden he is. Putting his hands up to his ears, he brings his knees to his chest, trying to hide himself from the words that are lashed at him.
And then Atsushi goes quiet, kneeling in front of him. He feels Atsushi wrap his arms around him ever so carefully, as if he was made from porcelain. They don’t say anything as Atsushi pulls him towards his chest, letting him hear the other’s heartbeat. It was something he always did everytime Akuatagwa woke up from a nightmare or needed something physical to ground him from whatever horrors his mind would conjure up.
It’s something he would never admit aloud, but Atsushi’s hugs were always the best. They were warm and strong, making him feel like he was worth something in this world. As a hand draws circles on his back, Akutagawa listens carefully as Atsushi’s heart thumps with such proudness—a symbol of how alive he really was. Hearing the rhythmic closing of his heart valves reminds Akutagawa to keep breathing between each lub and dub as he grounds himself back to reality again.
Then he kisses Akutagawa’s hairline, then his forehead. And slowly, he reaches for the hands that still cover his ears, gently holding them and kissing every one of his wrinkles and knuckles. He then makes eye contact with Akutagawa’s abyssal pupils and kisses him all over his cheeks and—
“87%” Akutagawa thinks, not realizing that he also said it aloud.
Atsushi pulls back a little, still only breaths away from his face. “87?”
His eyes then wander to the floor, unsure of how to explain this system he came up with. “To make sure you love me,” he starts. “I keep track to make sure that you still love me enough,”
Atsushi then brings one of his hands up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. His fingers were so graceful and were full of love and comfort. “Ryuu, my love, my star,”
His heart aches everytime he calls him that: love and star. Because how could he even be something as lovable as a star in the sky.
“I could never, ever, not love you. I am so sorry, did I make you feel that way?”
It was so innocent and caring. He doesn’t have to apologize because Atsushi could never do anything wrong. He was perfect and so very human and alive in every way possible. And Akutagawa thinks that maybe he was just something Atsushi had enough pity to find love with.
He shakes his head. He truly does want to believe that Atsushi loves him, but it’s so hard when all his mind wants to think is that he doesn’t deserve any of this. “When the numbers add up, that’s how I know.”
Atsushi frowns a bit. They’ve talked about this before, how Akuatagwa is always doubtful of receiving anything other than hurt. He wishes he could just take all the pain away to ensure that Akuatagwa understands just how loved he really is.
“I love you,” Atsushi leans over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t need numbers to calculate that because I always have and always will,”
“But I,” Akuatgawa winces, eyebrows frowning in confusion. “I don’t understand how to know. If you’re happy, then that’s when I know you won’t leave me,” And that’s when Akutagawa truly crumbles.
“Oh, my love,” Arms latch on to Akutagawa’s back, holding him like a lifeline.
“I don't want you to leave me,” he cries, words breaking as sobs erupt from his throat. “I can’t—I don’t want to be alone again, so I need to make sure that you love something as difficult as me,”
“No, Ryuu,” Atsushi holds Akuatagwa, letting him cry on his shoulder. “You’re not difficult, not to me, not ever,”
Akutagawa furiously shakes his head, entangling his hair into Atsushi’s collarbones. “How?” His voice cracks. “How could you see me as something worth it?”
“You’re always worth it,” Atsushi holds him just a bit tighter. “You are someone that I could never regret loving,” Placing stress to make sure Akutagawa knows that he’s a human deserving of love just as anyone else.
“But when we fight—I don’t want you to hate me,”
“I could never hate you,” Atsushi says firmly. “When we fight, I know that I’m emotional and explosive and I might say things that hurt you, but I could never hate you,” Gently, he draws cursive ‘I love you’s’ on Akutagawa’s spine. “After arguing, I want to give you space and time, for both of us, to ground ourselves again, it’s not because I hate you or anything like that,”
At this point Atsushi is crying too, tears dripping down his cheeks.
‘I’ve messed up again,’ Akutagawa thinks. Because his stupid head keeps thinking about stupid things, he’s made Atsushi sad.
“Atsushi, I’m sorry,”
“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Atsushi says, taking his palms to clean Akutagawa’s tear stained face. “I love you, and I’ll say it a million times over until you know for a fact that I am here to stay and love you always,”
“Always?”
“Always.” Atsushi gives him a gentle smile. “You don’t have to keep score, you are worthy of being loved and to feel loved,” He then takes gentle fingers to pull black and white strands of hair behind Akutagawa’s ears. “I’ll be here, all the time, even when we get old and house as many cats as you want,”
For the first time in a while, Akutagawa smiles, genuinely. He’s never thought of growing old (given his lung predicaments and all) but if it’s Atsushi, it's always worth trying for. “Really?”
“Really,” Atsushi says, leaning over to press their lips together.
As he feels the warmth that exudes from Atsushi, he thinks how lucky he is. He is so lucky to be someone that Atsushi can love.
Atsushi, all to himself. And he loves him so much he wants to grow old with him. How lucky can one person be?
When Atsushi pulls back, Akutagawa whispers, “I love you,”
“I know,” Atsushi pressed a soft kiss on his cheeks.
“Just the two of us?”
“Forever and always,”