Work Text:
Akutagawa stared blankly at the screen, the volume turned almost all the way down. He absentmindedly nudged a conked out Dazai slumped next to him, receiving no response. He rolled his eyes to no one. Abhorrent jerk, barging in, making me sit and watch with him, then having the utter gall to pass out.
Still, he couldn’t get himself to switch off the TV. He shrugged off the wool-knit blanket carded uselessly around his thighs and threw it over Dazai. The fool got cold too easily, and he’d much rather prevent another barging-in encounter. Especially involving a cold, freezing Dazai who would be much clingier given the cold and would try to share some of the little warmth Akutagawa had.
He shivered at the thought, recalling Dazai’s grating laughter as he pressed his ice cold fingers into his neck. “Ahh, thank you, Akutagawa, you’re so warm! I needed that!”
Akutagawa held a trembling hand to his neck. No. No thanks.
He stood in the hallway, suddenly unsure what to do with the remainder of his time. Too dark to go outside. But too quiet inside. Dazai passed out on the couch, and as far as he remembered, being annoyed by him was supposed to be his evening plans.
He scratched the side of his pointer finger with his thumb. What had he been doing before Dazai interrupted him? It felt so long ago. The annoyance made the hours bleed together in his mind, a soup of the passage of time, littered with the incandescence of miscellaneous activities.
He woke up this morning planning to do things. He knows he did.
The buzz of his phone pocket snapped him out of the pit growing in his stomach about losing time from… from whatever he was supposed to have done by today.
8:28 P.M.
jinko ‧₊˚❀: hii :D
The groundwork of whatever pit in his stomach that was building utterly vanished. It was like stepping into the sunlight.
Me: Hi
jinko ‧₊˚❀ is typing…
Akutagawa carried his phone with him to the kitchen, still having the messages open, watching for the text, like a replacement of whatever he was watching on TV earlier. He placed the phone on the coffee table, plopping down on the plush seat, staring at the typing bubbles.
He was grateful for the privacy of the kitchen. No loud noise, no peeping Dazai…
The kitchen . That’s right. Food. It was important for him to eat something. Something … did he even eat today? He couldn’t really remember. Maybe he got distracted again. He placed the phone face-down as he got up from the table, leaving it on so he could hear the ping! of Atsushi’s reply. And speaking of Atsushi, he sure was taking a while…
Akutagawa scooted around the kitchen, trying to search for something that would catch his fancy. A sandwich? Too much work. A bowl of cereal? Too sweet. And besides, if this really was the only meal he ate today, it should be a healthy one.
He reached into the drawers for his go-to when his mind stopped wanting to cooperate with his, quite frankly, annoyingly picky taste-buds. He picked out a plump fig from the plastic bag and turned around, closing the drawer with his hip as he picked around for a knife to cut the small stem.
Ping!
He almost dropped the knife. He paused, then took a bite of the fig to give his mouth a reminder of what he was supposed to do as he grabbed the phone from the table.
jinko ‧₊˚❀: how did your worksheet go??
Akutagawa almost choked.
Me: ???
Me: What are you referring to?
Akutagawa felt a familiar rising panic. So something important had slipped his mind.
jinko ‧₊˚❀: :(
jinko ‧₊˚❀: we were supposed to do it by tomorrow, remember?
Me: Okay
jinko ‧₊˚❀: seriously :<
Me: No like
Me: Im not upset
jinko ‧₊˚❀: ‘:/
jinko ‧₊˚❀: raises eyebrow skeptically
Me: 😭
Me: Not towards you I mean
Me: I appreciate your warning, genuinely
Me: I just
jinko ‧₊˚❀: it slipped your mind? (つˆ⌣ˆ)つ⊂(・﹏・⊂) don’t worry, these things happen!
Me: A lot, apparently
Me: I know you’re attempting to cheer me up, and it does mean very much to me, really
jinko ‧₊˚❀: yeah?? 🥺
Me: I thank you for it
jinko ‧₊˚❀: yeahhh?? 🥺
Me: And I promise I’d have more words of praise for your kindness towards me if I wasn’t feeling like the world was ending
Me: I need to figure out what to do
jinko ‧₊˚❀: i can help!! 🥺
Akutagawa paused. He gripped the half-eaten fig in his hand, interpretations of his own hunger swishing around in his mind, changing from anxiety-induced nausea erasing any desire to eat to the familiar stress-eating hunger pangs. He took another careful bite.
He put his phone down before he ended up chucking it across the room. He had to think. Atsushi was offering him help, but of course he couldn’t accept it. The mental gymnastics that plagued him have long since upgraded to mental Olympics whenever any relevance pertained to Atsushi.
Atsushi helping him, talking to him sweetly, gently correcting him where he went wrong, rubbing Akutagawa’s arm when he got quiet because he knows Akutagawa sometimes gets loud when he’s stressed except for when it has to do with school because then he gets quiet as the thoughts in his mind screaming at him that he’s a lowly idiot fully lacking in all sound judgement get louder and louder.
Atsushi knows him.
Atsushi understands him.
Me: I’m alright
Me: Thank you regardless
jinko ‧₊˚❀: mmm
jinko ‧₊˚❀: but you said you felt like the world was endinggg
Me: Merely an over exaggeration
Me: I’ll see you in class tomorrow
jinko ‧₊˚❀: :<
Guilt gnawed at him slightly. He bit his lip, not intending to make this situation any worse than how it was already.
Me: I really mean it
jinko ‧₊˚❀: well.. if that’s what you really want
jinko ‧₊˚❀: i don’t want to make you feel worse,, having an assignment to do last minute is always hard enough
Me: You’re okay, seriously
Me: You really didn’t misstep anywhere, Jinko
Me: I promise you that
jinko ‧₊˚❀: 🥺
jinko ‧₊˚❀: i only believe you bc you take promises seriously
Me: I’m glad
Akutagawa cleaned his hands. He didn’t even remember eating the fig, the normally sweet flavor muddled and lost as the acrid taste of stress seemed to spread across his tongue, inside his mouth, pooling into his stomach.
His phone chimed again, but he placed that thought to the back of his mind as he pulled his backpack towards him (yes… the backpack was in the kitchen, he vaguely remembered his plans to eat lunch and then work on his assignment… or something like that).
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
“Was Dazai being annoying again?” Atsushi asked, slumped over his desk, arms splayed out on either side of his desk. He flapped his wrists absentmindedly. It was an admittedly cute habit he seemed to have.
“One could say that,” Akutagawa replied, keeping his tone mild. Any little enunciation could cause a cascade of questions in that overly concerned and sometimes frantic tone of Atsushi’s. Incomparably sweet, but not needed at the moment. The last thing that Akutagawa wanted was to relive the stupidity of his choices from the weekend.
Atsushi narrowed his eyes, mouth unconsciously forming a small pout at the obvious omission of the truth. Which Akutagawa should be mindful about, knowing Atsushi and his constant questions well, but, alas, something in him just couldn’t look away from Atsushi’s mouth…
“Alright,” came from the front of the room. The class snapped to attention. “I trust… well, trust is a strong word, especially for kids like you. I hope you aaall turned in your worksheeties into this here bin?” Ranpo tapped the blue tray perched at the front of his desk with his foot as he leaned further back in his office chair.
Akutagawa felt a stab of reproach as Atsushi sighed and turned towards Ranpo. He struggled to keep the frown off his face as he watched Ranpo try to open a ramune bottle.
Hmph. Such behavior from a mere teacher’s assistant…
Maybe the blame was partially on Atsushi. The type of sunlit radiance that felt it important to shine its luminance on whatever garbage the head of the class was spewing, paying rapt attention, note-taking as quickly as possible with a little bit of his tongue sticking out in concentration…
Akutagawa let out a sharp breath as quietly as he could, shaking his head slightly to snap to focus. Thinking those sorts of things would get him nowhere, surely. Besides, he should probably be paying attention.
Ranpo was rambling on about whatever Professor Sakunosuke had in store for them in lecture the next morning. Important information as it may, although Akutagawa was struggling to jot down these crucial dates that Ranpo seemed to be urging them to keep note of. His gaze kept sliding to his left, watching Atsushi watch Ranpo.
No. None of the blame would be on Atsushi, he decided right then.
It was clearly all Ranpo’s fault.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
“You had two weeks,” Dazai drawled, head resting on the table. Akutagawa admittedly wanted to kick it like a soccer ball. “Two weeks,” he continued, “to turn in your form. How do you let shit like this even happen?”
Akutagawa scowled. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Dazai said, words harsh but tone not unkind. “I wouldn’t know what makes you let these things slip by. Because you don’t tell me,” he added, eyebrows raised comically at the very idea of not being Akutagawa’s prime confidant.
Dazai picked his ear and then flicked whatever was on it off onto the floor. Akutagawa trained his focus back to his computer screen blinking the time-out error message. His ears were starting to ring. “And as such,” oh great… the thing was continuing to speak. “You don’t tell me, so I don’t know, so I can’t help -”
“I don’t want your help,” Akutagawa bit out. Dazai huffed a laugh, raising his hands in mock defeat. “Fine! Fine, fine, fine. But still, I went to this school. And sure, I may not have been the most by-the-books responsible student but I still registered for classes on-time.”
Akutagawa bit his lip. The ringing in his ears got louder as it seemed to travel down across his spine and into his head, the throbbing starting at the base of his skull, making its way upwards. Dazai’s laughter rang through the room. Or maybe it wasn’t and it was just the haunting memory of that demeaning laugh playing itself through memories, past instances with Dazai using his persona in the present as a heartless vessel.
“Hey, I’m not trying to tease you,” he heard Dazai say, jiving clearly tapering out into concern disguised as annoyance. The squeak of the chair grated Akutagawa’s ears as Dazai shuffled slightly, discomfort clearly growing.
“You’re not seriously crying because I told you off for not remembering the registration date, are you?” Dazai groaned.
Akutagawa narrowed his eyes. “Do I look like I’m tearing up at the moment?”
Dazai snickered. Akutagawa clicked the refresh button on his screen, knowing the result won’t change. “And even if I was,” Akutagawa continued, “you’re being quite vile about it.”
Registration period closed. Please contact your guidance counselor.
Ughhh…
Dazai remained quiet for a while as Akutagawa typed away at an email to his counselor, restarting over and over because he just couldn’t get the tone quite right. Or the words. Or the opening. How do you say “please for the love of god let me enroll in chemistry so i can get one step closer to leaving this deathtrap of a school” in a polite manner?
“You should remember the dates better,” Dazai said, seeming like he was trying again. Whatever he was trying, he was very bad at it. “I had my share of shit when I was an undergrad, too, but I didn’t forget to register for my next semester,” Dazai’s tone was increasing in volume, stress quivering in each syllable. Akutagawa paused from his fifth rewrite of the email, to sit up straight and look at him.
Dazai’s expression was forcibly relaxed, eyebrows slightly pinched together, jaw set tight. He didn’t look angry. More like he was holding himself back.
And, moreover, he looked rather… worried.
“I didn’t forget my assignments like you do,” Dazai continued. He looked right into Akutagawa’s eyes as he said this, noticing that he had his focus. If there was one thing that made Akutagawa’s stomach squeeze when it came to their arguments, it was this man’s obsession with constant eye contact.
He tried not to break away.
“I don’t know how you let it get this far,” Dazai repeated, finished, or at least Akutagawa hopes he’s finished. Dazai seemed to scoff, but it sounded halfhearted. His eyes were trained on Akutagawa’s. Long gone were the days Dazai said whatever callous notion came to mind as he observed Akutagawa’s face closely for some sort of reaction– the more intense the better. The angrier the better.
Akutagawa hoped those days were long gone. It’s been years. It’s been so long.
The ringing returned to his ears, much to his discomfort. Vague flashes from his mind of digging his fingernails into his thigh to try to stop himself from crying, pressing his palms into his ears as he had fallen to the floor screaming his lungs out for Dazai to shut up, to leave him alone. Hazy memories pulled back the curtain of Dazai’s laughter, dark with goading and provocation.
He was not a dead animal on the side of the road to be poked by Dazai’s stick. He was not an abandoned stuffed toy to be thrown in Dazai’s attic. He was not a dog wagging its tail, panting on the leash, waiting for Dazai to come back home and ruffle his hair.
Dazai was waiting for some sort of response. Admittedly much more patient than the years past, which means this is getting better, right? Dazai from two years ago would’ve gotten up from the table at the following silence. Dazai from four years ago would’ve jabbed him in the arm and asked what was taking so long. Dazai from eight years ago would’ve told him something scathing to pull out a quicker reaction, like the reason Akutagawa had no friends was because he couldn’t talk properly. Dazai from ten years ago would’ve probably round-house kicked him.
Akutagawa found his confidence slipping, the trained look of Dazai’s seeming to turn his previously self-assuredness to ice. The numbing fear crept in like a glacial freeze, like an old friend who had come home. The feeling of Dazai coming home.
Akutagawa’s stomach turned, the feeling biting into him. A familiar thought struck him, as he found Dazai’s eyes again. Dazai didn’t get it. Dazai didn’t understand.
Akutagawa’s gaze slid down to the table. The exasperated sigh from Dazai tells him that Akutagawa lost.
But, suddenly, a comforting thought slipped into his mind. It wasn’t foreign, but it made his toes curl as chrysanthemums and carnations blossomed in the root of his stomach, in the middle of the snow, at the very idea.
Atsushi would get it. Atsushi would understand.
It was a simple thought, but it felt so powerful. It felt so… calming.
The glacial freeze seemed to thaw and melt.
The sunlight was peeking in through the leaves of the canopy tree. The warmth seemed to bloom inside his stomach, giving life to the flowers that had taken root there.
“For the record,” he found his voice, turning back to the computer to give him a reason not to feign valor to someone who didn’t deserve it. “It’s not forgetting. Rather, I need to pay better attention. I admit to that. I atone to that. But it’s not that I don’t try.”
He heard Dazai shift, as if he was turning around to look back at Akutagawa. Akutagawa’s chest tightened, emotion briefly threatening to consume him. He forced his voice not to shake.
“And it’s not that I don’t care,” he finished, every word pressed tight. Dazai seemed to pause. The room was silent.
Akutagawa didn’t wait. He started typing away at his email again.
A few more tense moments passed, before he heard Dazai’s footsteps come around the back. Warm hands settled on either side of his chair, one hand on each of Akutagawa’s armrests. Dazai’s proximity to him was close, his warmth and his smell an almost comfortingly recognizable mix of what used to soothe him like medicine but also enrage him. Poison him. Small memories of being pushed and kicked around flitted in his mind. Other small memories of him being held close and snugly under the wool-knit blankets in a twin size bed wove its way into his mind, like a heavy breeze on a cold day that was slowly getting warmer.
Dazai’s hands gripped the armrests a little harder as he brought himself closer to Akutagawa, head perched over Akutagawa’s shoulder. His curly locks flutter against Akutagawa’s cheek, and the heat of his clothes made Akutagawa subconsciously lean into him. The comforting heat spread across Akutagawa’s back as he listened to Dazai's breathing.
Dazai was right. It was somewhat chilly in this house.
“I would phrase it as may I please get an extension on registration for spring classes through any sort of online form – it makes it sound much more respectful and polite,” Dazai said softly after a while. He got up abruptly, the lack of contact causing cold air to coat Akutagawa’s back again.
Dazai patted him on the shoulder, retreating to the living room.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
He was back in the class again. His stomach shifted and pulled at his insides as he ran his finger over the crumpled edge of his returned worksheet. Score perfectly average, as was any paper he had done the night before, plans gone awry.
Ranpo was at the front of the class, yammering away with his back to his students as he wrote and wrote on that whiteboard. The squeak of the marker felt like fingernails on a chalkboard to Akutagawa. He resisted the urge to cover his ears, then wondered why bothering with the resistance, given he wasn’t even taking in anything Ranpo was saying.
Atsushi, for once, was not paying rapt attention. His notes were neatly written, with pink and yellow highlights crossed over every other word and stickers littering the margins of his notebook.
But his amaranth gaze was fixated on Akutagawa as it had been for the last few moments. He had pointed Akutagawa to the back of the class this time, where he chose to sit. Strange… considered Atsushi always preferred the front. Easy for him to take cute notes. Easy for him to ask questions, talk to the professor or teacher’s assistant after class… winning them over with his cute words and cute posture and cute student mindset and…
“You’re hiding something,” Atsushi whispered, but just barely. He bent over his notebook, pretending to write, gaze still enraptured on Akutagawa. Atsushi’s pencil just barely touched the paper as he wrote a pretend word, like this was grade school and they’d get put in time-out if they were caught. It was really quite adorable.
“No.” Akutagawa’s response was plain, brick-like, leaving no wiggle room for anything. But Atsushi was a worm. He found a spot.
“Yes,” Atsushi pressed, sitting up straight again. He turned slightly so he was facing Akutagawa more, pretend attention taking abandoned. Atsushi tilted his head slightly, eyes widening in concern, a pattern of emotions best picked up by Akutagawa, as it would by anyone, really, if they had known him for as long as Akutagawa had. The familiar creased eyebrows and slight frown, eyes sparkling with a genuine emotion of some sort. He was like a kicked puppy.
“You always do this,” Atsushi continued on, his words barely more than a breath, only shared between the space of theirs as their small desks were smooshed together, their elbows barely an inch apart. “You always shrug off my help.” His eyebrows furrowed more. “School’s been harder, right?”
Akutagawa was silent.
“You missed another assignment, which is. Which is okay. But it’s the end of the year. It’s harder to keep track of things. Is that what this is?”
Akutagawa forced a nod. He kept his gaze trained on the whiteboard, where Ranpo was drawing a silly picture of a duck. What did this have to do with introduction to philosophy? The class was laughing. It felt like a swaddle of golf balls rattling around in a closed jar.
Atsushi went quiet. Akutagawa felt a stone drop in his stomach. Somewhere, somehow, he must’ve gone wrong. He opened his mouth to say something, letting a breath or two slide, and then closed it. He did it again, probably looking like a fish. Nothing was coming to mind. A cough ripped through his throat and he covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly.
A warm hand massaged his back. He didn’t have to look to see the source, but he breathed out gratitude. The hand retreated. The chair squeaked along the floor.
“Ranpo?”
“Yes, Atsushi?” The teacher assistant sounded bored.
“Me and Akutagawa need to head out. We’ll be back to collect the study guide on our way to the next class, okay?”
Akutagawa barely registered what was being said until Atsushi was grabbing his pencil out of his hand and putting it inside his pencil bag, shoving all the contents inside Akutagawa’s satchel. He stared. Me and Akutagawa?
He felt like he was walking in the middle of a desert, mind hazy with need of water. The red walls seemed to blur as he was aided out of the classroom, watching as his fellow classmates waved politely goodbye. He couldn’t lift his arms to wave bye because one , Atsushi had one locked within his own, and two , he felt like he weighed two tons.
His feet barely managed to drag him out of the classroom before the two of them sat somewhere on a bench. The wooden surface felt stiff, but the outside breeze was much more relaxing. Akutagawa sighed, closing his eyes. He opened his eyes to Atsushi typing away at his phone, muttering something as he clicked it off.
Atsushi maneuvered the bags to the ground as he pulled himself closer to Akutagawa.
“This couldn’t have waited until after class?” “When was the last time you ate?”
The two stared as they asked at the same time. A chuckle spluttered out from them both.
“When was the last time you ate?” We’ll see who’s subpar now, Jinko. I distinctly remember eating cold soba before class started.
Atsushi blanched a bit. Ha. “Y-Yesterday night. But-”
“Ah-”
“This isn’t about me, and yes, this couldn’t wait until after class.” Atsushi narrowed his eyes. They seemed to shine in the afternoon light, turning almost orange. “You’re too important.”
Akutagawa shrugged. What could one even say to that? Less, what could someone like him say to that? Atsushi made a noise that sounded something like a whine. This happened a lot when conversations didn’t go his way. He reached out and shook Akutagawa’s shoulder.
“I’m serious . You’ve been quieter since school started ending. We’re almost at the end of this term. It’ll be okay!”
“I forgot to register,” he found himself blurting. Shit. Atsushi jerked back, surprised.
“For… next term?”
Akutagawa nodded. Atsushi leaned towards him a little, bumping their shoulders.
“Did you contact your counselor? Professor Sakaguchi is pretty strict on dates but I’m sure-”
“I already did.” Akutagawa leaned into Atsushi’s warm touch, a silent allowance… no, a silent plea for more of it. Atsushi reached out and started scritching at the back of Akutagawa’s head, a special spot that he knew Akutagawa liked. Bubbly warmth spread from Akutagawa’s fingernails to toes. “Dazai helped me.”
The scritching stopped. Atsushi looked at him like he had grown a second head. “He… did?”
Akutagawa hummed an affirmative. He looked at the floor, watching in the corner of his eye as Atsushi checked his phone again.
“You’re pouty today, Jinko.”
“Speak of the devil, really. He just texted me.”
“Dazai?”
“Mhm.” Atsushi showed him his phone.
Me: you weren’t picking on akutagawa again, right?? :c
dazai (๑>•̀๑): ???
dazai (๑>•̀๑): lmao
dazai (๑>•̀๑): whats the netflix password
Akutagawa snorted. “I appreciate that his replies to you were each hours apart.”
“Uh huh.” Atsushi pocketed his phone. That uh huh didn’t sound too happy.
“I’m tired,” Akutagawa found himself saying, instead of what he wanted to say, which was are you okay, i apologize for anything that you’re feeling that happens to be bad, “I would rather go home now.”
Atsushi smiled sympathetically, rubbing Akutagawa’s arm. The contact felt like a cool rag on a harsh burn. “I know.”
“This semester, really…” Akutagawa struggled to find his words, since that’s probably what Atsushi wanted out of this. No, really, maybe it was moreso what he wanted out of this. “This whole… semester. It’s been hard. And long. And tiring. I’ve been trying. I really have.”
Atsushi nodded. I know, his eyes said. I’ve always known , and yes, he did. This is why Akutagawa trusted him so.
Akutagawa swallowed thickly. “I’ve been… wanting to go home. To be home.”
“I’m sorry,” Atsushi whispered, making Akutagawa’s gut tense. There was no need for him to be sorry. Why was he sorry? “But,” Atsushi continued, quiet voice honeyed and bell-like, “when I’m with you, that’s how I feel. At home… when we’re anywhere. Because… you’re my favorite person. That’s what makes this all easier.”
Akutagawa rolled his eyes, though heat rushed to his cheeks at the fondness in Atsushi’s voice. “You pay possibly the best attention out of anyone in that class. I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed to do so if I wasn’t there.”
“That’s not true,” Atsushi’s delicate tone immediately turned stern. Akutagawa had to hold back a smirk. It was always pretty cute when Atsushi got more serious. But these were feelings they were talking about, and it seemed his sunlight seemed to take his into a matter of high importance. “I can only pay as much attention as I do,” Atsushi insisted, “because I know you’ll need the notes, too. That’s why I take such good ones.”
Akutagawa hummed a small tune. “We haven’t studied together in a bit. I apologize.”
“No need,” Atsushi said softly, his dulcet voice causing the butterflies and the bees in Akutagawa’s stomach to buzz about. This is what he loved. What he needed. Atsushi always… had a way. He just did.
Said sunlight brought his arm around Akutagawa’s shoulder and brought the two of them closer, sharing his warmth. The one of his body. The one of his voice. The one of him.
He was all the life Akutagawa ever needed. He felt it breathe into him. Every relaxed breath Atsushi exhaled, Akutagawa felt life and flowers and the evergreen singing inside him. His own forest of life and the dirt and the song of birds and the humming tune.
“I need you here,” Atsushi continued, voice wavering slightly, like thin silk threaded through a needle with care and practice. “I need you with me. In school. After school. At home. You bring me peace. I just wish I could bring you some.”
You do, is what he wanted to say. But he found himself humming that tune again.
The two of them remained quiet for a while, listening to the melody of the trees whispering above.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧