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Chapter Text

They keep quiet as they make their way down the low-ceilinged corridors of the underground base they’re infiltrating. Akutagawa up front, coat billowing behind him, Atsushi trailing in the back, keeping a close watch on any suspicious movements.

The Special Division had asked them to investigate the subterranean system just outside the city, believing it could lead to a hideout of a foreign organisation, possibly tied to recent underground activities they’d been monitoring. Atsushi and Akutagawa had been told that the intel had revealed it was probably unused, but they’d still been advised to use caution, and to retreatt at the slightest chance of danger to avoid detection.

It’s close to three months now that they had battled Dostoevsky, three months since Akutagawa and Atsushi had defeated him by the skin of their teeth. It still felt too close for comfort, especially now, that the Special Division had intercepted a stirring of activity in Yokohama’s underbelly that suggested a new threat might be brewing. It was difficult to say how big that threat would become, but given how badly the Decay of the Angel incident had turned out to be, the government wasn’t willing to take any chances this time. It had been Ango Sakaguchi, who had approached Atsushi a few weeks after the battle at the airport, just as life had resumed some normalcy.

The proposal was, in theory, simple, but unconventional, to say the least. Ango and his team felt Atsushi and Akutagawa had been instrumental in Dostoevsky’s defeat, and had therefore agreed it best to focus attention on them as a battle force. They wanted them to undergo special training, honing their skills, individually and in combination, so that they could stand between Yokohama and the next big threat coming their way.

Atsushi glances at Akutagawa now, walking a few paces in front of him. It had been strange, working with him outside of the battlefield, without the risk of injury at their back. It still felt strange, Atsushi had to admit. He had also been surprised at how easily Akutagawa had agreed to the Special Division’s plans, but found one of the reasons quiet quickly – Ango had asked Dazai to join the training as instructor, a pair of eyes to point out weaknesses and plan strategies. No wonder Akutagawa had jumped at the chance.

Seeing Akutagawa work under Dazai is borderline scary. Akutagawa is able to follow Dazai’s orders with utmost precision, quickly picking up whatever suggestions Dazai throws at him, adding them to his repertoire. Atsushi himself is not as quick on the uptake, often needing several attempts to understand a concept and feel comfortable with it. He gets there, eventually, but it’s a far cry from Akutagawa’s fast application. It’s quite humbling, if he’s honest with himself.

It had also been the first time Atsushi had gotten to really look at Akutagawa’s using Rashomon, outside of any imminent threat of battle. Now that he really had gotten to focus on it, Atsushi had quickly realised just how complex Rashomon as an Ability really was. Whenever he had started trying to work out just what mechanisms had to play together for Akutagawa to use it, his head had started to swim. Atsushi had always thought Akutagawa’s use of Rashomon was practised, even when Akutagawa had still actively tried to kill him with it, but studying Akutagawa during training, Atsushi had quickly understood he had underestimated just how intricate usage of it really was. The Ability is already formidable in theory, but in Akutagawa’s hands, it was all power, speed and pinpoint precision, almost forensic in how thought-through every move seemed. Atsushi also hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something about Akutagawa’s skill had changed, that he’d become even more proficient in the short time since they’d last seen each other at the airport.

They round a corner, and Akutagawa halts. Atsushi has to draw up short so he doesn’t bump into him. He throws Akutagawa a questioning look, but the other’s attention is focused elsewhere, listening. Atsushi tries to figure out what Akutagawa had heard, but can’t detect a noise when he strains his ears, the only noise the low hum of the fluorescent lights on the wall. Akutagawa stays still for another moment, before he seems to think it safe to continue.

It had taken Atsushi a while to realise why Akutagawa seemed different, only really understanding it when he had, one day, taken notice that he’d not once heard Akutagawa cough in all the time they’d spent practising. He’d remembered then, what Akutagawa had told him, on the ship during their battle with Fukuchi, that he was suffering from a lung disease. The realisation that the cough, a mark of the disease, was gone, had meant that most likely, it had stopped affecting him, at least to some degree. It made senses, that it would not affect Akutagawa in his vampire form, but Atsushi had believed that change would be temporary. It seems that it had not been, persisting even in the absence of Bram’s Ability.

It had made Atsushi wonder, how much Akutagawa’s illness had impacted him. There was no denying that Akutagawa had become stronger in the month they hadn’t seen each other. The logical conclusion had been that some of it was due to him not being held back by his illness any more. It’s a quite upsetting realisation, how exhausting working with it, fighting with it, must have been, just how much it had affected Akutagawa. Somehow, it hadn’t sat right with Atsushi, that he might have missed something so important all this time.

They round another corner, this one leading on to a bigger path than the ones they’d been on before. Atsushi and Akutagawa had been given maps, but Akutagawa seems to go by memory, sure in his movements as he turns right. Atsushi hopes so at least. He’s only half-sure where they are any more, but as long as Akutagawa had a handling on it, he was content following him. As if noticing his thoughts, Akutagawa looks to the side, just a quick glance back that seems almost accidental, before his eyes are trained forward again.

It had been disorienting, in a way, to see Akutagawa this civil. He seems mellowed out, the fury he’d thrown at Atsushi changed into something less acute, an annoyance rather than the white hot anger he’d had for him in the times they’d known each other. That didn’t mean that they never fought, far from it, butting heads in mostly anything they discussed, but their fights where less about life and death and more about battle strategies or move application. How to go about practising moves that combine Abilities becomes their biggest topic of contention. Atsushi likes to go by feeling, his Ability working best when it is going on instinct, while Akutagawa insists on meticulously dissecting the movements to the minutest detail until he understands them in and out, wanting to go over them again and again until Atsushi’s muscles ache from the repetition.

Most days, by the time Dazai lets them go after training, Atsushi is barely able to keep himself upright. That Akutagawa, usually, ends up not doing much better only gives him the slightest bit of satisfaction.

One and a half months into their arrangement, the Special Division had started sending them on missions together. They’re mostly small-scale, pretty low-risk assignments that both Atsushi and Akutagawa would probably have been able to do solo, with the occasional riskier mission thrown in for good measure. Ango-san as well as Dazai insist it’s good for them to get as much experience in the field as a team as possible, while Atsushi is just happy for the change of pace, and a day spent without sore muscles and bruises. Missions came as a happy distraction, especially the safer ones, even when it meant spending even more time with Akutagawa.

As they walk through the winding, labyrinth-like structure, kicking up dirt from the paths that have been dug into the earth, Atsushi can’t help the feeling that this mission seemed not as straightforward as Ango had made it out to be. Atsushi had never considered himself to be claustrophobic, but he has a weird feeling about the place, a tension he couldn’t quite shake.

Whatever the hideout had been used for, not much of it remains, most of what they find looking hastily abandoned. Atsushi and Akutagawa continue following the twisting passages until they make it to the centre, where several paths converge and open up into one big circular room.

It’s scarcely furnished, a few tables and chairs set up in the middle of it, and something like a cot to the side.

Akutagawa’s shadow stretches long behind him as he walks across the dimly lit space. Atsushi, more as a habit, listens for any footsteps or other noises in the distance but can’t make out anything suspicious, even with his enhanced hearing sense.

Walking over to one of the tables, he looks over what’s been left on it. It’s hard to make out in the low light, but nothing catches Atsushi’s eyes from a first glance.

“Small-scale organisation, most likely,” Akutagawa speculates, as he’s checking some of the documents on one of the other folding tables set up in the room. “I don’t think they’re connected to the Division’s case”, he says, after some more consideration.

“Did you get that?” Atsushi asks into his communication device connected to Ango.

“Understood.” Ango-san’s voice comes alive over the device. He sounds disappointed, but not completely surprised. “Please take as much photographic evidence as you can, then you can take the path we’ve discussed on your way back. We’ll meet you at the extraction point as soon as you’re done.”

Atsushi confirms he’s heard and disconnects, taking out the camera he’s been given to document any findings. Whoever had set up base here, really left much of note behind. Akutagawa doesn’t seem impressed by what he finds, either, having moved on to another table, rifling through the documents on it rather dispassionately.

Atsushi starts looking off to the side, where the cot was set up. Now that he’s standing closer, Atsushi thinks it might have been a makeshift first-aid station. He lifts his camera, about to take a picture, when he feels a shift in atmosphere, the hairs of his neck standing up. It takes a moment for him to realise the source of his sudden agitation. Heightened by his Ability, Atsushi can just about make out the rhythmic thrum of a distant noise.

“Do you hear that?” Atsushi asks, turning towards Akutagawa. “It almost sounds like—” There’s just about enough time for him to see Akutagawa looking up from where’s bent over before the earth shatters around them.

Despite Atsushi having realised the cause of the noise just in time, he’s still instantly knocked to the side at the impact of the explosion, Atsushi’s back hitting the wall, forcing the air out of him. He gasps at the pain running up his body, despite having just about activated his Ability to soften the impact. The lights had gone out, meaning it’s pitch black, and Atsushi has to take a moment to find his bearings, trying to get up from where he’s fallen with some effort, groaning. Even with his tiger abilities, he’s barely able to make out anything in front of him at the complete lack of light. The air is thick with dust, making it hard to breathe.

He hears coughing to his side. Akutagawa, he thinks; a little dazed, ears ringing from the shock wave.

He starts to feel his way along the wall, trying to locate where the coughing was coming from. When he tries to call out to Akutagawa, the dusty air sends him into a coughing fit as well, and he has to stop, trying to catch his breath.

Theoretically, Akutagawa’s could have used Rashomon to cushion his fall, just as he had, but Atsushi doubts he’d had been able to activate his Ability on time, having had no time to prepare. He also hadn’t see the red glow of the activation, though he hadn’t really been able to pay attention, either. He could only hope Akutagawa’s coughing was from the dust and not an injury. He’s just about located the general direction of the it as one of the tube lights flickers back on, providing Atsushi with just about enough light to orient himself.

Akutagawa is on all fours, a few meters ahead of Atsushi, hand up to rub over his mouth, coughs still wrecking his body as he looks around. “Dammit,” he manages in between, looking towards one of the entrances of the room, or what remained of it, as Atsushi realises when he follows his gaze.

The entrance is completely covered in earth and rubble. Scanning the other entrances, Atsushi feels a flutter of panic. They don’t look much different, filled with debris from top to bottom.

There’s a crackle to his side and Atsushi makes out the source of it a moment later, diving forward to grab the communication device that must have fallen in the chaos.

“—hello. ca-an you h-ear me- “, Ango’s voice cuts in and out, before the connection stabilises. Atsushi presses the transmission button. “Ango-san.” He has to stop, coughing again, before he can continue. “There’s been” - cough – “a cave-in. We’re cut off.”

Ango voice is calm, but there’s a definite edge to it when he replies. “Roger that. Are you two okay?”

Atsushi looks down at himself, then to Akutagawa, who had managed to stand up by now, walking close to the wall of the cave, if a little unstable.

“I think so,” Atsushi tells Ango-san. “Do you have our location?”

“Yes. Any way you’re able to get out by yourselves?” Ango-san asks, and Atsushi doesn’t like his tone of voice.

Atsushi stares at the wall of rubble before them. Even with Rashomon’s slicing properties, and Atsushi’s brute strength, he doubts the structure is stable enough to support any displacement of material on their end. He looks at Akutagawa, but the other is turned away from him.

“Negative.” Atsushi says into the transmitter. “We’d probably be buried before we make it out,” he adds, feeling another twist of apprehension at the implication.

He waits for a reply, it seems like an eternity until Ango-san voice sounds again.

“We might be able to get in from above. I’ll be in touch as soon as I know anything more.” There’s a pause, then: “I’ll give it to you straight, it will probably be a while until we make it there. Try to get as close as to the wall as possible until then.”

It’s not like we’re going anywhere, Atsushi thinks, miserably, before he replies, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “Got it, thank you Ango-san. We’ll let you know about any changes here as well.”

Once he’s disconnected, he takes a moment to the survey the surrounding area. The contents of the room are scattered in all directions, bent out of shape where they had connected with the wall or floor. There’s a thick sheen of dust covering everything from whatever.

There’s a rumbling sounds in the distance. Probably another part of the hideout collapsing, Instinctively, Atsushi moves back until he’s touching the wall, keeping his balance. He looks over to Akutagawa, checking if he’s alright, and stops short. Because Akutagawa isn’t standing any more, back firmly propped up against the wall for support, half-hunched over.

It’s the first time since the blast that Atsushi gets a good look at Akutagawa’s right side. He hadn’t noticed before that Rashomon was activated, but now, he can just about see tendrils of it curled around Akutagawa’s right arm. Even with their tight application, and even from where Atsushi is standing, he can see there’s a constant drip of dark liquid hitting the floor at Akutagawa’s feet.

“You’re hurt,” Atsushi says, eyes widening.

“It’s nothing.” Akutagawa from where he’s leaning forward replies, voice sounding strained.

“That’s not nothing,” Atsushi says, taking a step towards him. Leave it to Akutagawa to downplay an injury this severe. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He brings the transmitter up to his mouth “Ango-san, we might have a situation here.”

“I’m fine.” Akutagawa protests, unhelpfully.

Atsushi waits for Ango’s response, but the only sound coming from the transmission device is white noise. Atsushi feels a rush of something, maybe panic, well up at the realisation that the connection had cut off. He stands there, completely unmoving, trying to think of what to do.

What could he do? Akutagawa was bleeding, uncooperative, and all they had was some tables, documents and--

When his gaze moves past one of the tables toppled over, Atsushi remembers something. The first aid station. Maybe... He walks around, scanning the ground for the cot he’d seen. When he spots it, he walks over, starting to rummage through the items strewn around it. He finds what he’s looking for quickly, grabbing it almost like a life line.

“What are you doing?” Akutagawa asks.

“First aid kit”, Atsushi explains, holding the item up for Akutagawa to see.

“I told you I don’t need it.” Atsushi doesn’t miss how Akutagawa’s uninjured hand has not left the wall, supporting his weight. When Atsushi walks up to him, Akutagawa retreats even further, back pressing into the wall. They stare at each other silently for a long moment, before Atsushi breaks eye-contact, frustrated. Always a fight with him.

“Why do you always think you know best? No-” he cuts across Akutagawa who had opened his mouth to respond. “You have no idea how long we’re going to be stuck here. It could be hours. I know you’re good at using your Ability, but even you can’t use it forever. Especially when you’re actively losing blood.”

Akutagawa’s jaw is set, stubbornly holding Atsushi’s gaze. Then, almost imperceptibly, Akutagawa’s posture loses some of the tension, and then he’s sinking to the floor, expression sour. “You’re quite irritating, you know that?”

Atsushi sighs. It was a start, at least.

Atsushi is next to Akutagawa, sitting down across from him, in less than ten steps, he opens the first aid kit, studying the materials inside. There’s two small bottles, some gauze and wound dressing, and a sewing kit. He takes out one of the bottles – saline solution- pouring some of it onto one of the wound dressings.

Akutagawa stays quiet, and obediently loosens Rashomon’s hold on the wound even before Atsushi touches his arm. Atsushi lifts his fingers to the fabric, moving it out of the way cautiously. When he sees under it, he startles.

Up close, the wound is much shallower than he had feared, a long, mostly superficial cut, running across the length of Akutagawa’s forearm. However, a small part of it runs deeper, the source of most of the bleeding, Atsushi guesses. But it’s not bleeding anymore. Instead, there’s a subtle, but unmistakable suture running along it, dark thread weaving in and out of skin in a delicate zig zag line.

Atsushi lifts his eyes, surprised. “You sewed yourself up with your Ability?”

Akutagawa’s looking to the side. “I told you I’m fine.”

Atsushi blinks, slowly. He’d never noticed Akutagawa using his Ability like that before, but it wasn’t illogical that he’d be able to do it. Sewing thread was nothing more than fabric, after all. He looks down at the wound, wound dressing in hand. “Well, at least let me clean up the rest of the wound so it doesn’t get infected.”

Akutagawa doesn’t protest, so Atsushi sets to work. Using the damp wound dressing, Atsushi starts cleaning around the gash. He pats the area dry after, so the bandage would have an easier time adhering, the steps familiar to him. There’s no ointment in the kit, so Atsushi goes straight to applying the gauze, reaching for it.

When he glances up, Akutagawa is looking at him, a curious expression on his face.

“You’ve done this before,” Akutagawa says. It’s a statement more than anything but Atsushi can hear the question behind it.

“Yeah,” Atsushi says evasively, not wanting to elaborate immediately, busying himself by looking back down at Akutagawa’s arm instead. It’s still hard to talk about his time at the orphanage, even after all this time. Atsushi can feel the lump in his throat forming. Not able to avoid answering forever, he makes to reply but Akutagawa beats him to it.

“The Headmaster.”

Atsushi shouldn’t be surprised, but he still feels himself wince at the mention of his former guardian. Of course Akutagawa knew. After all, he had been there, on the Moby Dick, when Fitzgerald hat taunted Atsushi about his past. Compared to what your real parents did to you as infant, this hardly counts as abuse. The words echo in his head. It was strange to think Akutagawa knew something so personal about Atsushi. Then again, Atsushi had seen Akutagawa’s past in the Fourth Dimension, too, so maybe it wasn’t so strange, after all.

When Atsushi looks at his fingers, gauze in hand, he can see they’re shaking. He almost expects Akutagawa to take over from him, annoyed, but he makes no move to, waiting in silence. While it’s difficult, Atsushi manages to grab another wound dressing, almost glad to have something to train his thoughts on, to keep himself from spiralling. Slowly, as he places the dressing over Akutagawa’s wound, his mind refocuses.

He uses the thumb of one of his hands to secure the dressing and, unwinding a part of it, takes the end of the gauze, using his other hand to wrap the fabric around Akutagawa’s arm. Once it’s secure, he reaches over for the fixing clip to fasten it to the bandage, giving it a once over, fingers hovering over it when he’s done.

“All better,” he says, going for a light tone, but it comes out sounding almost fake, even to his own ears. Despite himself, he looks up, and catches Akutagawa is studying him out of the corner of his eye. He holds his gaze when he notices Atsushi noticing. The pain of your past has nothing to do with you any more. That’s what Akutagawa had told him once, Atsushi remembers. He averts his eyes, looking at the ground, almost ashamed.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” he asks, after a long moment, surprised at how resentful his voice sounds. “That I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of that place?”

“I think you’re a fool for believing it.” Akutagawa replies, and Atsushi can feel his gaze on him, appraising.

“He’d come to apologise, when he died.” Atsushi says, looking at the ground. “In his own way, he thought he was doing me a favour, hardening me to the world.” He’s not sure why he’s telling Akutagawa. Maybe because in Akutagawa’s memories, Dazai, too, had told Akutagawa that survival meant suffering. It a weird way, he felt like Akutagawa could understand what it was like, being told you’re not made for the world’s cruelties, being haunted by the past. He shakes his head, not wanting to think about it any more. “I don’t think I can forgive him, even if I wanted to.”

Akutagawa stays quiet, and when Atsushi looks over, his head is turned away from Atsushi, eyes hidden. If he has any insight on Atsushi’s words, he’s unwilling to share them.

For a long moment, they don’t say anything. Atsushi’s thoughts circling, trying to focus on something else. There’s another low rumble, reverberating, from somewhere far away, and Atsushi wonders where Ango and his team were, if they were close or still figuring out the best way in. Experimentally, he turns the transmitter on and off a few times, but gets no response. He feels restless all of a sudden. What if they got stuck here overnight? Theoretically, the cod would work as a makeshift bed, even if it was a little beaten up. It wasn’t big enough for two people, but maybe they could take shifts, if it came down to it. Would the air last?

There’s another distant rumbling, and winces involuntarily at the noise. He tries the transmitter again, but it only feeds back white noise, making Atsushi draw his knees up to his chest, feeling vulnerable. He taps his feet a few times, trying to dispel some of the anxiety that’s sitting in his bones.

“You’re fidgeting.”

Akutagawa is levelling a flat look at him.

“Sorry”, Atsushi says, stilling his legs, not in the mood to argue. He tries, and fails, to keep still, turning his head to look fully at Akutagawa. “Aren’t you at least a little anxious?”

“…”

Atsushi sighs at Akutagawa’s lack of reply. No point to continue the conversation.

They’re quiet again, but Atsushi only manages a couple of minutes before he gets up frustrated, pacing along the room’s wall.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the claustrophobic type,” Akutagawa says, from where he’s sitting, arms crossed.

“I’m not,” Atsushi replies, truthfully. “I’m just – restless, that’s not the same thing.” He comes back to Akutagawa’s side. “Let me check your dressing.”

When he leans over Akutagawa, the other pulls his arm back, away from Atsushi. “If I thought this was for any medical reason, but you’re clearly just looking for a distraction. Besides,” he adds, after a pause, glancing away; “it’s quiet secure, no need to check it.”

Atsushi gives up, letting himself fall back down, dejected. “You’re awful company,” he says.

Akutagawa scoffs. “I don’t believe I ever agreed to be your personal entertainer,” he says dryly. “Not that there’s a lot to do here to begin with.”

“We could talk.”

“You must be joking.” Akutagawa really looks like Atsushi is describing a foreign concept to him. Atsushi doesn’t hear a refusal, however, and that’s good enough for him.

“Come on, it doesn’t have to be anything deep” he says, “It can be anything, like” he thinks, “your favourite colour or plant or whatever.”

Akutagawa looks even more perplexed. It’s almost funny. Atsushi’s almost ready to give up, thinking about getting up to pace again, when ---

“Blue…. If you must know,” Akutagawa’s isn’t looking at him, studying the ground as if it’s the one that had asked the question. “And I don’t have a favourite plant.” He considers another moment. “Sunflowers, maybe.”

“Oh”, Atsushi says, genuinely surprised. “Not what I would have expected.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ah, I don’t know,” he scratches as his neck, trying to put it into words, “I would have just thought you’d choose something different, like a spider lily” At Akutagawa’s look he adds, “because it kind of looks like your Ability.”

“Hm” is all Akutagawa says in response. “What’s yours then?”

“Mine?” Atsushi considers a moment, caught of guard. “If I had to pick, cherry blossoms.”

Akutagawa doesn’t react one way or the other. Atsushi doesn’t know what he’d expected, but he shrugs it off, at least they’re talking. “Okay, next question – favourite thing to do in Yokohama?”

“I’m not telling you”

“Oh come on, it’s not like I’ll stalk you”

Akutagawa sighs. He takes a few seconds to decide. “The park.” When he notices Atsushi’s look, his eyebrows draw together, suspiciously. “What?”

“Nothing, It’s a nice answer.”

“You didn’t tell me what yours is.”

“You know you could come up with your own questions.”

Akutagawa’s expression is unimpressed.

“Okay, okay,” Atsushi says, not wanting to test his luck any further. “I think… sitting by the harbour, people watching.”

Akutagawa is giving him a strange look when he looks back at him.

“Well, it’s just” he says, a little flustered. “It’s nice to see everyone going about their lives, you know?”

“And you said I shouldn’t be worried about you stalking me.” Akutagawa says, deadpan, and Atsushi needs a moment to realise Akutagawa’s made a joke. Unbidden, he laughs, once, too surprised to keep himself in check.

Their eyes meet. There’s something in Akutagawa’s expression, something like surprise, then he turns his head and it’s gone, just as quickly.

He’s opening his mouth to say something, when with a loud crackle, the intercom comes alive with Ango-san’s voice. “Atsushi? Sorry, the connection was blocked. Are you okay? I think we found an opening. Are you on the far side of the wall?” Out of the corner of his eye, Atsushi can see Akutagawa looking over, expression unreadable.

“We’re okay,” Atsushi says, voice full of relief. “Akutagawa’s injured but it’s under control. You can’t imagine how happy we are to hear you. Right ---?”

Akutagawa gets up, one fluid motion, turned away from Atsushi, back tense. Atsushi only has a moment to wonder on it, before Ango’s voice distracts him, telling them to stand back, and then the extraction team is breaking through the ceiling.

They’re out of the facility not 10 minutes later, covered in dust, but safe. Atsushi thinks he’s never been so happy to see the night sky before.

They’re given a check-up by medical. Akutagawa’s wound is re-bandaged, this time with an antibiotic ointment, then they’re left to make their way home. Akutagawa leaves without saying goodbye.

Atsushi is left wondering what he’d done wrong.

Chapter Text

Nakahara Chuuya joins them for their next training session. Dazai says it’s because Atsushi and Akutagawa need an opponent to spar against and his own Ability isn’t suited for it, but Atsushi gets the distinct impression that his motives aren’t completely unselfish, if only to annoy Nakahara-san at every opportunity he gets.

Atsushi isn’t complaining about Nakahara-san’s presence, though. He is good fun to fight against and be around, serving as a welcome reprieve from Akutagawa’s constant digs and Dazai’s drill, cracking jokes during breaks, and not being a sore loser when they do land a hit on occasion. Atsushi hadn’t known Nakahara-san that well before, but he is surprised, just a little bit, at how pleasant the Port Mafia executive’s company is, mostly having had Dazai’s less than flattering descriptions of him to go off of.

After finishing another round of sparring, Atsushi’s surprised when Nakahara-san asks for his phone, and even more so when he starts tapping his number into it.

“This is for emergencies only, understood?” Nakahara-san says as he types in the last digits of the number. “I don’t want you calling me to pick you up drunk from the club or something like that.”

Atsushi’s not really sure he’s ever been to ‘the club’, much less so drunk. He’s about to point out as much, when, from the side, Atsushi notices Akutagawa scoff. When Atsushi turns to him, he immediately lifts his shoulders in a tense line, turns around and walks off.

Whatever had gotten into Akutagawa at the end of their latest mission had stuck, and he’s even pricklier than usual. When Atsushi had tried to talk to him at the beginning of training, Akutagawa had thrown him one measured look and stalked off and the rest of the training hadn’t been much better.

Not having noticed the tense moment between him and Atsushi, Nakahara-san glances up, after Akutagawa, watching him retreat. There’s something thoughtful in the way he’s looking after Akutagawa, like he knows something Atsushi doesn’t. Before he can ponder on it, Dazai’s beside them, and the next moment he and Nakahara-san are arguing, and Atsushi’s caught in the middle of it, until Nakahara-san, aggravated, is walking away, joining Akutagawa across the training hall.

Watching Nakahara-san and Akutagawa interact provides its own insights, Atsushi finds.

There’s a familiarity in Nakahara-san treatment of Akutagawa that speaks of years closely working together. Where Akutagawa looks up to Dazai in almost devotion-like fervour, his interactions with Nakahara-san are more laid back, while still indicating a not insubstantial respect for his superior. It’s clear he cares a lot about Nakahara-san’s opinions. Atsushi notices the embarrassed flush on Akutagawa’s cheeks whenever Nakahara-san compliments him, even if he tries to hide it behind bickering matches that Nakahara-san responds enthusiastically to. Now, he can see them discuss something, Nakahara-san looking back at Atsushi and Dazai with a smirk, no doubt telling him how annoying Dazai’s being, and Akutagawa bristles, but even from the distance, Atsushi can see he’s only half serious.

He turns over to Dazai, “They’re close, aren’t they?”

Dazai, however, is not looking at them, his eyes on Atsushi instead. His expression is surprised, as if he’s just figured something out, but he hides it well, being his normal cheery self in an instant. He glances back at Akutagawa and Nakahara-san in the distance, and when he replies, his voice is wistful. “I guess they are.”

“What were you thinking just now?” Atsushi asks, curious.

Dazai’s eyes are glinting when he says, “Potential.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Dazai provides no further insight into his cryptic words, and Atsushi had almost forgotten by the time his phone dings, just as he’s walking out of the post office, having just dropped a letter, a week later.

Running late for today’s meeting. Can’t get a hold of Akutagawa. Please go by his apartment to let him know.

Atsushi’s still processing what he’s reading when another message appears below the first, pinging him an address. Then below it, Dazai had sent a slew of parantheses and other punctuation marks that he thinks are supposed to represent a thankful emoticon, but he’s only half-sure.

He stares at the messages for a moment. It’s roughly 40 minutes before they have a training session scheduled. The address isn’t too far off, Atsushi having been out to run some errands, he’d have no problem getting there on time to let Akutagawa know about Dazai’s message. However…

Things between them had only improved slightly since Nakahara-san had joined in their training. Akutagawa had stopped walking away whenever Atsushi approached, at least, but he’d still talk to him as little as possible, and leave as soon as Dazai called it quits for the day. Even the idea of going to talk to Akutagawa, even under Dazai’s request, sends a twist of dread through Atsushi.

Dazai… Atsushi can’t help but wonder, if this was somehow connected to what Dazai had said, back at the training hall. Potential. Did he want Atsushi to do something, while at Akutagawa’s place? It’s nearly impossible that Akutagawa would miss a message from Dazai, so Atsushi is almost certain Dazai hadn’t sent him the message to begin with. He feels kind of deceitful, going to Akutagawa, playing along when he was nearly 100 % sure Dazai had not sent Akutagawa a heads-up on purpose, especially when he was less than sure what Dazai’s intention with all of this was.

It also feels like crossing a boundary in their relationship, somehow, going to Akutagawa’s apartment. While they were something like partners, now, Atsushi isn’t sure how the other would take it, if he turned up at his doorstep, unannounced. On the other hand, there’s was the small chance that Dazai was telling the truth, and Akutagawa really had misplaced his phone or the message got lost. Additionally, and a little selfishly maybe, Atsushi can’t help but wonder what Akutagawa’s place might look like. Atsushi thinks that Akutagawa’s flat could provide some insight into a part of Akutagawa’s life that Atsushi is still somewhat blank on. It’s hard to imagine Akutagawa not working, doing mundane things like vacuuming or brushing his teeth, so at odds with his workaholic personality.

Maybe that is why Atsushi finds himself in front of a tall office-like building, a few blocks from the Port Mafia HQ. The lobby is lined with marble tiles, everything looking like it costs a fortune, which it probably had. Dazai had sent him the floor number, which was decidedly too high to consider taking the stairs. Atsushi spots the elevator, but when he gets close he sees there’s a touchscreen with instructions to show a keycard that he doesn’t have.

Ah. Atsushi thinks. This might be more complicated than he had initially thought. He goes through his options – take the stairs or call Dazai for help - when he notices the intercom next to the elevator, full of numbered keys. He stares at it a moment. Dazai had given him Akutagawa’s apartment number after all.

There’s no answer when Atsushi presses the button. He waits a full two minutes, awkwardly standing in front of the intercom, before he decides Akutagawa isn’t home. He wonders at the possibility of Akutagawa being there, seeing him over the intercom, and deciding to ignore him. Atsushi feels weirdly hurt at the prospect, somehow.

Whatever the case, he’d done as much as he could, he tells himself. He'd just have to text Dazai and tell him he can't get a hold of Akutagawa either. He could probably swing by the training grounds and wait for Akutagawa there, he concedes, a little begrudgingly. He sighs, turning around and comes face to face with Akutagawa, rooted to the spot, and very clearly holding a bag of groceries. Atsushi can see some fruit, and what looks like bread, poking out of of the bag. He's wearing sunglasses.

They stare at each other. 

It's Atsushi that finds his voice again first, remembering why he’s here. "Dazai's running late,” he says, and when Akutagawa just keeps staring, adds. “He wasn't able to reach you."

Akutagawa takes out his phone, checking it. “He didn’t message me.”

Ah. Atsushi thinks, having expected as much, but not wanting to say, he tries the evasive route, shrugging non-committally.

“That’s what he said.”

Akutagawa doesn’t look convinced but he also isn’t contesting what Atsushi’s saying, for now. "Did he say how long he'll be?"

"Uh..." Atsushi starts, then stops. He had not. "I don’t know. Not long, I think?"

There’s a frown forming on Akutagawa face, but he doesn’t immediately offer any more insight into what he’s thinking. It gives Atsushi a moment to study Akutagawa's appearance. While he's wearing his coat, there's what looks like a dark t-shirt and jeans under it, different from his battle and training get-up. Instead of his usual black boots, he's sporting sneakers. It's a little disorienting, if he is quiet honest with himself, but also exactly what he’d hoped for, by coming here.

. 

He notices Akutagawa is looking at him, a weird expression on his face. Before he has time to make sense of it, Akutagawa is looking away, rummaging in his coat pocket and pulling out a card from it, putting it on the display in front of the elevator.

The doors open, and Akutagawa is getting in, making his way past Atsushi, wordlessly.

Atsushi bristles at being ignored. He gets ready to give Akutagawa a piece of his mind, at the rudeness of treating him like that when he had just run across town to meet up, when he hears Akutagawa sigh to himself. He can only see Akutagawa's back. "Would you want to come up?"

"I---...what?" Atsushi gets out, too stunned for anything more eloquent.

He sees rather than hears Akutagawa’s sigh again. Despite this, Atsushi stays rooted to the spot, needing to be sure he has heard right. “You’re actually serious?”

Akutagawa turns around, studying Atsushi with a deadpan expression. “I’m starting to regret it.”

“But—”

“It’s a simple yes or no question, Weretiger.”

Atsushi is in the elevator a second later. Akutagawa mumbles something exasperated under his breath that does suspiciously sound like an insult, but he presses the button to the second to last floor of the building, and the elevator doors start closing.

They ride up in silence. Akutagawa’s staring holes into the wall, while Atsushi can’t help but study Akutagawa’s getup again.

“What?”

“Ah nothing,” Atsushi deflects, but when Akutagawa keeps staring, he relents, “It's just strange, seeing you act like a normal person." When he notices Akutagawa’s eyebrows drawing together dangerously, he adds, hastily. "I do like the sunglasses.”

Akutagawa’s doesn’t dignify Atsushi with a response, back to staring holes into the wall, but he isn’t skewered by Rashomon either, so he counts that as a win, sighing inwardly in relief. Nothing else to do, he busies himself studying the rows and rows of floor buttons on the wall. There’s more than 40 of them.

“Does everyone from the Port Mafia live here?”, he asks, before he can think better of it.

He is surprised when Akutagawa’s response isn’t overly antagonistic, “The lower floors are reserved for offices, only the top floors are for employees.”

Atsushi is about to ask who is living here, then, when the elevator stops and dings open, revealing a short hallway, a door on either side of it. He opts to settle for, “Who’s living on the top?”

Akutagawa glances towards the ceiling, seemingly considering if he should tell Atsushi or not. Apparently, he doesn’t find the information too classified to share. “Chuuya-san,” he says, as he walks to the door on the right hand side and uses the key card still in his hand to open it. “To be honest, I don’t understand why Dazai couldn't just ask him to tell me about today’s meeting instead of sending you.”

Atsushi wonders, too, as he’s following Akutagawa through the door. Maybe Dazai hadn’t told Nakahara-san at all. It’s the type of pettiness Atsushi wouldn’t put past Dazai. He’s about to suggest they go up and tell Nakahara-san, too, just in case, when he’s actually noticing the inside of Akutgawa’s apartment and whatever he had been thinking about is forgotten.

There’s a long living area stretching before Atsushi, with a built-in kitchen, kitchen island and bar chairs on the right, and a collection of a dark red couch and armchairs with a massive LED TV set up to the left a little further back. Behind that, there’s stairs leading down to what seems like a sunken part of the room, where Atsushi can make out walls lined with bookshelves. Directly to the left is a hallway that seems to lead to other rooms. It all is decorated rather simply, but the open brick wall and calligraphy paintings on it do give it a rather charming feeling, black, burgundy and navy making up most of the other design details. It’s all extremely expensive-looking, rather unsurprising for a mafia official, Atsushi has to admit. What leaves Atsushi speechless, however is the ceiling-to-floor windows behind the seating area and the full on Japanese garden he can see through them, from where he’s standing. Atsushi thinks he sees a pond out there.

Akutagawa is putting the grocery bag on the kitchen island, when he notices Atsushi staring, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘What?’”Atsushi tears his eyes away from the windows, looking at Akutagawa, wide-eyed. He must have taken off his sunglasses at some point, but Atsushi had been too preoccupied to notice. “You realize it’s not a normal thing to have a garden on top of a skyscraper? You have to realize that, right?”

Akutagawa doesn’t seem too bothered by the concept, as he’s putting something in the fridge. “It was my sister’s idea.” he says, vaguely, as if that explains anything.

On second though, Atsushi had to admit, she did seem more the type to enjoy pretty flowers or gardening than Akutagawa. It still felt pretty out there, not to mention the hassle it must have been to set up. Atsushi is also a little surprised at how easily Akutagawa had brought up his sister. Then again, Akutagawa knew Atsushi knew about Gin, after she’d run across the battlefield on the airport when everything was decided, embracing Akutagawa fiercly. Atsushi had been a bit taken aback at the open display of affection, even more so Akutagawa’s response of hugging her back just as tightly.

“There’s a screen door around the corner”, Akutagawa says, sighing a little impatiently, and Atsushi realises still rooted to the spot, having been lost in thought while staring at the garden outside. He needs another moment to understand that Akutagawa is suggesting he go outside to take a look.

“Just try not too fall off,” he hears Akutagawa call out behind him, dryly. When he steps outside, it becomes apparent that Akutagawa had only been half joking. There’s is a little patio-like wooden structure lining the wall right by the window, falling off one step into a meandering path, lined with gravel and numerous plants, there’s even a tree bearing fruit, figs, Atsushi thinks. And Atsushi hadn’t imagined it, there was a small pond as well, a bridge crossing over it halfway down the garden’s expanse. However, almost immediately, Atsushi’s eyes are drawn further down the path, to the far end of the garden. There, obscured slightly by greenery, is a banister, and behind it a view of half of Yokohama. Atsushi is there before he can really make the conscious decision to, staring at the skyline. He can see the port from here, with the ferris wheel, and the sea behind it, stretching out endlessly. It’s a stunning view.

It’s so at odds with Akutagawa, Atsushi has to take a moment to gather his thoughts. He had sort of expected Akutagawa’s apartment to be expensive-looking, knowing full well the mafia’s salaries were notoriously high, but what he hadn’t imagined was just how...nice it all was, how calming. Atsushi can already feel his mind settle, even after only standing here for half a minute, how the anxiety he’d felt about going to Akutagawa and telling him about the postponed training slowly ebbs until he’s breathing deeply, thoughts settled. He’s not sure how long he stands outside before he shakes himself, deciding to head back in. He finds Akutagawa leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at his phone.

“It’s beautiful,” Atsushi says, as he steps over the threshold. Akutagawa looks up, arms crossing when he spots him. His very much bare arms, Atsushi realises, with a start.

Acutely, Atsushi becomes aware that Akutagawa is not wearing his coat any more. Instead, he’s in the tshirt Atsushi had notices before, dark grey. At Atsushi’s staring, Akutagawa looks down at himself, then up again. “Do you think I wear my coat inside my own apartment?”

Atsushi feels himself blush. Putting it like that, it does seem illogical. In theory, Akutagawa could manipulate all fabrics, so he didn’t necessarily have to use the coat in order for his Ability to work. However by this point the garment was such an integral part of Akutagawa that seeing him without it was kind of like seeing him nak---

Atsushi can feel his cheeks colour even more. He was definitely not going to think about that. Akutagawa blinks expression shifting, and for a moment, Atsushi is horrified that for some reason he can actually read his mind. The expression is gone the next moment, so fast that Atsushi thinks he might have imagined it.

“You took your time,” he says instead, pushing himself off the counter to walk over to the couch, not sitting down. Atsushi’s too preoccupied with his own thoughts to react to the dig. He looks past Akutagawa, the garden visible behind him, and it triggers something, a thought he’d had while standing outside.

“Do you tend to it yourself?” Atsushi says, happy to distract himself from his thoughts. “The garden I mean?”

“It’s not exactly rocket science, Weretiger.” Akutagawa deadpans. Atsushi scoffs, but keeps otherwise quiet, too interested to get goaded into an argument. After a few seconds, Akutagawa seems to realise he’s not getting a rise out of Atsushi, turning to the garden, and Atsushi’s surprised to see his expression actually soften, just a touch. “Gin helps, sometime.”

It was a little unsettling, seeing Akutagawa like this. This… calm. Atsushi had never had siblings, but he could tell, even from this moment, Akutagawa really cared for his sister.

“Did she tend to it, while you were gone?”

It had been a risky question, Atsushi knew. He’d asked without really thinking it through, curiosity getting the better of him. Akutagawa doesn’t react immediately, keeping his eyes trained on the window instead.

“I don’t know”, he says, after a long second, before looking away from the glass. “It wasn’t that long anyways.”

It was true, maybe it had been a stupid question to ask in the first place. In all actuality, the whole conflict had been a few weeks, and the garden wasn’t roofed. The rain could have been enough to sustain it, for a while. But Atsushi hadn’t just meant the conflict. Akutagawa had died. There’d been a funeral, Atsushi had heard. He couldn’t imagine how Gin had handled it, thinking for a whole week her brother was dead. Had she come here, to the garden, to mourn, to keep the plants alive when she believed her brother would never be able to tend to them, again?

“Have you ever talked about it, to anyone?”, he asks, hesitant, knowing that the question was crossing a boundary, that he isn’t close enough to Akutagawa to ask, but still wanting to know. “About what happened?”

Surprisingly, Akutagawa doesn’t immediately try to rip into him with Rashomon. His response isn’t particularly “I haven’t,” he says, “Not that it’s any of your business.” His voice is caustic.

Akutagawa was right. It wasn’t his business. No matter what they’d gone through together, they weren’t friends, and Akutagawa had no obligation to answer something so personal. Atsushi, stands there, awkwardly, deeming the conversation over, unsure how to continue it.

“Not that I remember much anyway,” Akutagawa suddenly says, hand coming up to put a strand of his hair behind his ear, the gesture irritated. It’s hard to parse how he feels about not remembering, whether he’s relieved or frustrated. “It’s not like I was in control for any of it. I only really came to during the battle, when…” he stops himself. “It doesn’t matter.” He turns away, and Atsushi can only see his shoulders, a tense line.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because, what else was there to say? He’d just about avoided the same fate. He can still remember Akutagawa, bent over him, teeth at his neck. He shivers. Akutagawa’s back is all he can see. “I think you had some control, at least,” Atsushi says, and Akutagawa looks back, expression guarded. “I’m sure you had orders to kill whoever took Bram Stoker,” he explains, “but you didn’t. I think you spared the girl because you’d promised not to kill.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Atsushi stays unimpressed. “Maybe it wasn’t me then. But something kept you from harming that girl.”

Akutagawa looks away again, expression unreadable. A moment later, Atsushi’s phone dings, and when he he pulls it out of his pants’ pocket, there is a new message from Dazai.

“Dazai,” he says, to Akutagawa’s back “he’ll be at the training ground in 20 minutes.”

They’re quiet when they step out on the pavement, making their way past the shopping district, Akutagawa determined to keep some distance between them, speeding up whenever Atsushi tried to catch up to him. He had donned his coat again, but hadn’t changed the outfit underneath, probably not wanting to leave Atsushi unattended while he put on different clothes.

Despite the frosty atmosphere, it’s a nice day out, sun streaking the street as they make their way past some food stalls. There’s a smell of cooking oil and steamed vegetables in the air, and Atsushi slows. It smells delicious. Despite himself, his stomach gives a loud growl. He’d meant to stop for food before training, but the detour to Akutagawa’s apartment had completely derailed that plan. Now, his empty stomach was protesting not having been fed.

He doesn’t even notice Akutagawa stopping as well, until he looks up ahead, catching him look.

He points to the stall. “I’m getting one,” he says.

When he approaches the vendor, the woman behind the stall smiles at him kindly.

“I’ll have a pork bun” he says. “Thank you”.

“We have a special offer today. Its get 1 bun, get a second one free”, the vendor says.

Atsushi makes a surprised sound. He’s not sure if he could manage two buns before training, but he could get another one for after. Maybe Kyouka would like one, though it would be pretty late when he returned from training, she might be asleep by the time he came home. He’s still considering when Akutagawa comes up beside him, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t miss the way he’s studying the buns, especially the dessert section.

“I’ll take one of the sweet ones,” Atsushi says, on a whim. When the vendor hands him the two bags, he hands one of the to Akutagawa, who looks like the bag might explode if he takes it.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“For you” Atsushi explains, and when Akutagawa refuses, adds. “It was free,” He’d already bit into his own, munching on it. It’s savoury, soft and crunchy at the same time, and even better than he had imagined.

“Why?” Akutagawa says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Peace offering,” Atsushi shrugs around a mouthful, swallowing. When Akutagawa still makes no move to take the bag, Atsushi comments, “Come on, I’m trying to be nice here.”

Finally, Akutagawa’s hand comes up, taking the bag. He gets the bun out, eyeing it suspiciously. Then, he bites into it, and Atsushi is fairly certain he sees his eyes light up, just a tad.

They’ve started walking again and this time, Akutagawa doesn’t try to walk off. Instead, he takes another careful bite. Atsushi watches, almost entranced.

Akutagawa notices, turning his head, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I just didn’t think you’d have a sweet tooth.” Atsushi says. He’s not sure why, but he’d assumed Akutagawa would like spicy food rather than sweets.

Akutagawa bristles. “You chose it.”

“Because I saw your look,” Atsushi says unfazed, too happy and full from eating to put any bite behind it. Feeling bold, he adds “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I like sweets, too, especially – hey wait,”

Akutagawa, having sped up again, does slow down, but only enough for Atsushi to catch up with some effort without his tiger abilities. Not wanting to test his luck, Atsushi keeps quiet, content to finish the last two bites of his food. Astonishingly, it’s Akutagawa that breaks it.

“You’re insufferable, you know”, he says, but his tone is less acidic then his words, mostly sounding tired. “Why do you even care if we get along? It’s not like we need to to make this whole arrangement work.”

Atsushi blinks, perplexed. “You think so?”

Akutagawa turns towards him “Why wouldn’t I?”

Atsushi tilts his head to the side, trying to parse whether Akutagawa was serious or not, “Because we’re partners now.” he explains, eyes trained on the ground, unsure how to get such a simple principle across without coming across patronising, “We should trust each other at least.”

When he glances back, Akutagawa is studying him, turning away as soon as Atsushi’s eyes meet his.

He’s finished his bun by the time Akutagawa speaks again.

“You said before, that you like sweets as well,” his voice is quiet, almost too quiet for Atsushi to hear. “Anything in particular?”

Atsushi almost trips in his surprise, catching himself just in time. “Crepes,” he says, after a moment, not able to keep the awe out of his voice.

Akutagawa hums, a low, short sound from the back of his throat. He stays silent, otherwise. They don’t say anything until they arrive at the training grounds, but it’s less awkward and Atsushi would even say it could pass as comfortable.

Before they round the corner of the hall, Akutagawa halts. Atsushi stops to turning to him questioningly, when Akutagawa’s hand stretched out in front of him, a yen bill in hand.

“For the bun,” he says, and Atsushi might be imagining it, the sky tinged red, close to sunset, but there’s a blush on Akutagawa’s cheeks.

“I told you it was fre—”

“I don’t want to owe you.” Akutagawa says, hand stubbornly extended. “Also, I’ve seen what the ADA pays you, you’re hardly in a position to argue.” There’s an edge to his voice, and with a start, Atsushi realises he’s joking again.

Wordlessly, he takes the bill. Akutagawa retracts his hand, and starts walking again, as if nothing had happened.

Nakahara-san is already waiting for them when they get to the entrance of the hall, affronted for being stood up, throwing every insult imaginable at Dazai who’s just arriving as well. So Dazai hadn’t told him, Atsushi thinks, as he watches Nakahara-san start chasing Dazai, exasperated. Truly, he feels a little bad for not remembering to tell him either, wondering how it had slipped his mind to tell him, as well. When he looks at Akutagawa, Akutagawa is looking back. There’s something in his expression, as if he’s about to ask a question. Then Dazai’s almost crashing into them both in an attempt to hide from Nakahara-san wrath, and when he looks up again Akutagawa is turned away. It’s only two hours later, when he makes his way back home, that Atsushi notices Akutagawa hadn’t insulted him once during training today.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Now that Atsushi has found a topic they could both relate to, food, he grabs it with both hands. It doesn’t always work, but more often than not, Akutagawa will entertain his questions, if a little curtly, and if Atsushi even manages to coax a few questions out of Akutagawa on rare occasions. He learns that Akutagawa likes buns and mochi filled with fruit, but doesn’t care for bean paste, or matcha. He also doesn’t like coffee, and citrus, and most offensively, strawberries.

“They taste green,” he explains, at Atsushi’s flabbergasted expression, as if that isn’t the wildest thing he’s ever said, making a disgusted face as if he was talking about medicine, and Atsushi is caught between bewilderment and delight at the expression.

Atsushi takes the lead, most of the time, but Akutagawa allows it without much contest, if with a tendency to get exasperated at Atsushi’s opinions, which sends them into arguments that are unserious in nature and leave Atsushi feel strangely cheery. The longer Atsushi spends with Akutagawa, the more he becomes attuned to his moods, too, when to approach and start up a conversation and when Akutagawa should be left alone. It’s about a month after he’d visited Akutagawa’s apartment when he realises they’d gone a whole week without Akutagawa rebuffing him.

They become more attuned to one-another during missions and training, too. They’re making real progress, so much so that Nakahara-san notices as well, making Atsushi blush when he praises them after a particularly strenuous fight. When he sees Akutagawa, looking almost bashful at Nakahara-san’s words, Atsushi has to suppress a smile, surprising himself. He shakes himself out of it a moment later, but there’s a strange feeling following him all day, as he watches Akutagawa during training.

“You almost seem to look forward to missions with him”, Kyouka tells him, one evening when he’s getting ready to meet Akutagawa.

The assessment leaves Atsushi stunned. “Is that bad?” he asks after a moment, afraid of Kyouka’s response.

She seems to consider it for a moment, before she shakes her head. “I think it’s good.” She offers no further insight, walking off to grab a snack from the kitchen as she waves him goodbye, leaving Atsushi feeling strangely abashed.

Tonight, they’re supposed to stake out an office building used by a former Special Division informant who might have turned rogue, giving chase to him only if the Special Division orders it, so there’s a high possibility of their evening consisting of nothing more than waiting and observation.

They’re staying in the building opposite to the one the informant is in, one storey higher than his office, taking it in turns to observe the man inside, wiretapped, so they can hear what he’s doing in addition to viewing him from afar.

For the last 30 minutes, he’d been humming, non-stop, the same 5 note melody, over and over again.

“I swear to god, if I have to hear that damn song one more time I’m officially leaving” Akutagawa says, exasperated, from where he is set up by the window, glancing outside through the small gap the shutters provide. “I don’t care if the Special Division’s secrets get exposed, no one should be allowed to sing this loudly and out of tune for this long---”

“It’s growing on me.” Atsushi replies through a mouthful of take-out that they’d gotten before setting up camp, wincing at the look Akutagawa throws him. “At least the building’s heated and we have food. Are you finishing that?” he asks, pointing to the spring roll left on Akutagawa’s container.

“You’re insatiable.” Akutagawa replies, deadpan. He does, however, push the food over to Atsushi’s plate, who picks it up happily, earning another aggravated look from Akutagawa, that only turns more so when the informant gives another show of his very much not in-tune voice.

Admittedly, Atsushi doesn’t find the mission particularly stimulating either, but it is a far improvement to the unheated van they’d had to use for a similar mission a week earlier. Swallowing around a bit, Atsushi says, “This is actually a nice place to spend the evening, all things considered.”

Akutagawa sends him an unamused look before glancing back outside the window. “I shudder to imagine your living situation if this is your idea of ‘a nice place’”.

“Well, we can’t all have penthouses with private gardens.” Atsushi shoots back, pointing his half-finished spring roll at Akutagawa, who’s not looking to see.

“If I remember correctly, you were the one that couldn’t shut up about said penthouse for weeks after you visited,” Akutagawa replies, eyes never leaving the window.

Atsushi pretends to be offended, not able to contain his smile as he rebuts Akutagawa’s accusation. “I’ll have you know I am very pleased with my non-penthouse, garden-free apartment, thank you very much.” Admittedly, the ADA dorms weren’t the most lavish, but truthfully, Atsushi wouldn’t miss his little shared living space for the world,. “I think you have the wrong idea about it, anyway”

“Uh-huh” Akutagawa says, tone clearly communicating he isn’t convinced. Then he’s throwing his headpiece on the table, the informant having started up his humming once more. As Atsushi studies him, there’s a rush of something, so sudden that Atsushi feels his breath stutter.

It takes a moment for Atsushi to realize what it is. Affection. That’s what he had felt right now. He likesspending time withAkutagawa. It’s a strange realisation, but as soon as Atsushi thinks it, he knows that it’s true. When Akutagawa glances back, Atsushi tries very hard to look busy studying the briefing of their mission, and tries not to notice the questioning look Akutagawa throws him.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

They get another mission a week later.

The Special Division had intercepted talk of a meeting of several suspicious indiviuals, all pretty high-profile. The meeting was to take place in a mansion at the outskirts of Yokohama, owned by someone that had been linked to financing Dostoevsky in the past. The assignment is pretty simple – get in, place several bugs in strategic locations, get out again. Getting in is easy, as is placing the bugging devices, heir combined speed, as well as Akutagawa’s precise, almost soundless movements, together with Rashomon’s ability to reach the furthest corners, nooks and crannies of every room practically made for this sort of job. Akutagawa and Atsushi had memorised the guards’ route beforehand, making sure to stay in parts of the building as far from them as possible at any point. It all goes down without a hitch, until they’re making their way back down one of the building’s long hallways. The moon is shining into the arched windows overlooking the inner courtyard, illuminating Akutgawa just enough to be visible between the alcoves lining the side of the corridor that they’re creeping along, helping Atsushi keep pace with him. Akutagawa’s dark coat and makes it easy for him to blend into the wall, the soft light highlighting only the high points of his forehead, nose and cheekbones. They’re around halfway down the hallway, when Akutagaawa turns his head, likely to make sure Atsushi is still following, when they hear it – footsteps, and they’re coming closer.

They react almost simultaneously – Atsushi pushing himself forward, catching Akutagawa by the side; Akutgawa reaching out with Rashomon, wrapping one tendril around Atsushi’s middle and pulling him flushly into Akutagawa; both of them diving into the nearest alcove, nothing more than a recess in the wall, between two stone columns, Atsushi’s heart pounding in his ears. He knows that if they are found out, they should in theory be able to deal with whoever it is easily, but their cover would be blown, meaning the offices they’d just placed bugs in would almost surely be searched, rendering their efforts pointless and making any further attempts and their success unlikely.

It’s a tight fit. Atsushi estimates the niche in the wall they’ve sought refuge in is about a meter wide, and about the same in depth, meaning there’s next to no wiggle room. They’re just about able to stand up, the alcove starting to curve and coming to a point just above where their heads are. They’re escape had been hurried, meaning that they hadn’t landed in the most graceful of positions. Atsushi has one hand next to Akutagawa’s side, supporting most of his own weight with it, while his other hand is still buried in Akutagawa’s coat where he had grabbed him when they’d ducked into their hiding space. His feet are placed awkwardly, one of them twisted almost painfully. Akutagawa isn’t much better off. His back is pressed flush to the wall, legs pressed up against Atsushi’s. His right hand is braced against the wall next to Atsushi’s face, covering the alcove’s opening, and Atsushi has the fleeting thought that it’s almost protective in its placement. This close, he can hear Akutagawa’s breathing, faster than usual. Probably the adrenaline, Atsushi thinks. His own breathing doesn’t sound much better. Akutagawa’s hair has fallen forward, brushing against Atsushi’s face. It faintly smells of something herbal, maybe the shampoo Akutagawa uses.

They wait in silence. The moment stretches on endlessly in Atsushi’s mind. His foot feels like it’s about to cramp, and he tries to wriggle it a few millimetres to alleviate some of the tension on it. He tries and strains to make out the footsteps location. This close, he could hear every of Akutagawa’s exhales, loud in the quietness.

The footsteps halt, at what sounds like the end of the hallway. Atsushi can’t see who it is from this angle, but a guard seems like the most plausible explanation, even when they had been told the guards wouldn’t be in this part of the building for another 10 minutes. Either the Special Division’s intel had been out-of-date or the guards had decided to switch it up tonight. Whatever the case, they’re trapped, with no way to further retreat, so all they could do is wait.

When the footsteps start back up, it’s in their direction, meaning the guard was coming down the corridor. Atsushi feels his muscles react on instinct, readying for a fight. He’s going through his moves, thinking which one might have the best success rate in incapacitating the guard without leaving permanent damage. Maybe Akutagawa was the better fit. With his long range Ability, he might actually be able to incapacitate the guard without moving from the shadows, meaning it was still possible for them to escape without revealing their identities. He turns his attention to Akutagawa, wondering how to best convey this to him, when a hand presses over his mouth and Atsushi’s eyes dart up to look at Akutagawa’s face. Akutagawa isn’t looking at him, eyes fixed towards the person at the end of the hall. His hand curls into itself, until only his index finger is pressed against Atsushi’s lips, urging him to keep silent.

Oh. Atsushi thinks.

He doesn’t think he could say anything, even if he wanted to. He only barely registers the flashlight that is shone along the corridor, passing in front of the alcove. A moment, and the light is retreating. Another moment, and the footsteps retreat as well, leaving Atsushi and Akutagawa in complete silence.

Atsushi can feel Akutagawa’s body relaxe, just barely, before his head turns, and then his eyes shift too, meeting Atsushi’s. Under Atsushi’s hand that’s still pressed to Akutagawa’s shirt he can feel his heartbeat.

There’s a moment where they’re just starting at each other, Akutagawa’s eyes a pool of black against his paleness of his face that Atsushi can’t look away from, his mouth slack with surprise. His hair has become slightly mussed from being pressed against the wall, strands of it falling over his cheeks. In the moonlight, he looks almost ethereal. Atsushi’s breath hitches.

Then, Akutagawa’s expression morphs, eyebrows drawing together, and he’s pulling back, almost panicked.

He’s out the alcove in an instant. Atsushi’s staggering from the lost support of Akutagawa’s body, grabbing at empty air.

He regains his balance with some effort, glancing up. Akutagawa’s standing a few feet away, pointedly looking at anything but him.

“We should get back.”

Akutagawa’s expression is guarded. There’s an angry flush on his face. Atsushi feels incredibly embarrassed and incredibly stupid.

Not trusting himself to speak right now, shame burning in his throat, and his eyes, Atsushi just nods, and tries to ignore the painful twist in his chest.

They make their way outside in silence. Akutagawa leaves immediately after, not even able to look at Atsushi when he does.

Atsushi tells himself it’s alright.

But when he’s alone in bed that night, sure Kyouka is still asleep and won’t hear him through the door, he lets himself cry, feeling like he’d just ruined something unfixable.

Chapter Text

He likes Akutagawa. While the realisation had been staggering in the moment, the more Atsushi thinks about it, the more he comes to realise just how long his feelings towards Akutagawa had shifted. Now, that Atsushi’s aware of it, he wonders how he could have not figured it out for so long. He thinks back at Akutagawa, during a mission, trying to hide a laugh under a scoff at one of his comments. Of the gentle way he’d talked about his sister. Of his eyes lighting up at a particularly tasty meal, eaten together on a mission. Of, Rashomon pulling tight around his torso, offering protection instead of violence.

It doesn’t matter. None of it. Akutagawa had made it clear that he did not feel the same, no matter what Atsushi himself felt. It hurts more than Atsushi had thought it would. He had always been used to rejection, why was this any different?

Did you really think he would like you back?, his mind supplies, mockingly

It’s hard to get up the morning after the incident. Once he stumbles into the kitchen, Kyouka takes one look at him, red-eyed, and pulls him into a wordless hug.

It takes considerable effort to tell her. For one, reliving the memory makes Atsushi want to just crawl into bed again and not get up for the rest of the day, for another, he is aware of Kyouka’s history with Akutagawa, and is honestly not sure what she’ll say. She takes it better than Atsushi had expected, all things considered. Atsushi gets the feeling she might have figured it out even before Atsushi had.

“Are you sure he wasn’t just surprised?” Kyouka asks, after she had heard what had happened.

Atsushi thinks back at the look on Akutagawa’s face, after pulling back from him. "I'm sure."

“I can cover for you at work today,” Kyouka offers. After considering it for a moment, Atsushi shakes his head no. “I need the distraction,” he explains, and Kyouka doesn’t push it.

Work does and doesn’t help. On the one hand, burying himself in reports and other documents does indeed provide a little interruption from the painful memories replaying in his head, but he keeps catching the other members of the Agency stealing glances and exchanging worried looks, even if they are too polite to say anything. 

He tries to ignore the stinging in his eyes as he pulls out another document to go over.

He also notices Dazai watching him with an unreadable expression. He leaves halfway through the day, and Atsushi wonders if he's gone to talk to Akutagawa, to figure out what had happened. He's honestly not sure what he finds worse, Dazai getting the details from Akutagawa or Dazai asking Atsushi instead.

When Dazai returns, a few hours later, he doesn’t acknowledge that he knows anything about yesterday’s mission and Atsushi can’t bring himself to bring it up. When he goes home he still hadn’t exchanged a single word with him.

He starts writing text messages to Akutagawa a few times, but deletes them almost instantly. Even if he knew what to say, Akutagawa’s responses might just be the last straw to break Atsushi’s resolve to keep it together.

In the end, he does text a simple I’m sorry to Akutagawa that evening, and tries not to think too much about the lack of response.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Their first training together after what had happened goes as well as Atsushi had expected, which means not well at all.

Atsushi’s tries to broach the subject when they see each other, despite the pounding in his chest, but he doesn’t even finish the first sentence before Akutagawa brushes past him, wordlessly. He’s too embarrassed to look Akutagawa in the face, after.

Training itself is miserable. Akutagawa tries to keep as far away from Atsushi as possible at all times, pushing the limits of his Ability’s range. When they do end up close enough to touch, Akutagawa pulls away almost as if he’s burned, and is at the other side of the hall in an instant. Humiliation rushes through Atsushi each time, face burning.

It gets bad enough that even Nakahara-san notices.

“Did I miss something between you two?”, he asks, when Atsushi comes to a halt next to him.

Atsushi wants to respond, but there’s shame bubbling up in his throat and he only manages a helpless shrug, leaving Nakahara-san confused. When the training session is done, Akutagawa leaves instantly, before Dazai has even finished dismissing them, before Atsushi has had time to try to talk to him again. Nakahara-san follows Akutagawa, after a moment, and Atsushi doesn’t miss the bewildered look he throws Atsushi when he does.

He texts Akutagawa again. It doesn’t have to mean anything, but the only response he gets is deafening silence.

Their second training is even worse.

They can’t seem to find a rhythm, messing up exercises they had mastered months ago. It doesn't help that Atsushi is distracted by Akutagawa’s clear effort to avoid any and all contact with him. He almost has it down to an art form by now, building his moves around staying as far away from Atsushi as he can. He’s still following Dazai’s instructions, but does so in a way that means as little interaction with Atsushi as possible. It honestly feels like they’re back at square one.

Akutagawa is angrier, too, than last session. Where he had been passively distant last time, he makes up with aggression today, Akutagawa’s actions leaving little to no room for error. Whenever Atsushi messes up, he immediately retreats, refusing to give an inch of goodwill to accommodate Atsushi, immediately starting the exercise again, leaving Atsushi exhausted and his emotions raw.

“Seriously, what’s going on between you two?” Nakahara-san asks, after a particularly nasty attack leaves Atsushi on the floor. Apparently, Akutagawa hadn’t told him.

Before Atsushi has time to respond, Akutagawa’s Ability is on him again, and he grits his teeth against it as he jumps back to avoid being hit full on.

Atsushi is sure Dazai has noticed as well, but, like last session, he makes no attempt to acknowledge the shift in atmosphere.

The longer the session lasts, the worse it gets, Atsushi progressively becoming more and more distracted, ending up missing his cues and losing his balance on several occasions, too preoccupied with his racing thoughts to react on time to Akutagawa’s aggression.

It all comes to a head when Akutagawa finishes an especially fierce manoeuvre that knocks Atsushi off his feet, but also only misses Nakahara-san by an inch on the recoil.

“Oi,” Nakahara-san calls out, “Knock it down a peg up there, will you?”

Akutgawa ignores it, making another attempt at the manoeuvre that Atsushi misses, even more powerful than the last, falling back on the ground from which he had just about gotten up from, groaning at the impact.

“I said knock it off, Akutagawa,” Nakahara-san warns, sounding angry.

This time Atsushi knocked over before he’s even on his feet again. Akutgawa doesn’t even wait for Atsushi to find his bearing, striking when he’s still on all fours. Atsushi limbs are numb from exhaustion by this point, but he doesn’t want to give Akutagawa the satisfaction of surrendering to his moods. It doesn’t help that he can’t understand Akutagawa’s anger. He could have understood if Akutagawa was surprised by Atsushi’s feelings, but the hostility seems excessive, and, quite frankly, insulting.

Atsushi struggles to push himself off the floor in time, and isn’t even on his knees before the next hit leaves him on his back, air being knocked out of him. He rolls on his side to sit up, chest aching, bracing for another impact from Rashomon, seeing it approaching --

It doesn’t come. When Atsushi looks up, the black tendrils have vanished, leaving the warehouse eerily quiet and empty-looking.

“That’s enough.” Dazai’s hand is still outstretched from using No Longer Human. His tone isn’t angry, but there is a decidedness in it that doesn’t allow any objection. He’s studying Akutagawa, expression unreadable. Nakahara-san, next to him, by stark contrast, looks decidedly apoplectic.

Akutagawa’s face is set as he’s staring past them, all angry defiance and spiteful scorn.

Atsushi’s off his feet and in Akutagawa’s face in an instant.

“What the fuck, Akutagawa?” he says, pent-up emotions of the last couple of days bubbling to the surface all at once. He tries for angry, but his voice comes out hurt more than anything. He is only partially placated by the fact that there’s a flash of guilt that crosses Akutagawa features.

“What do you want me to do? I already said I’m sorry,” Atsushi continues, not even caring that Dazai and Nakahara-san hear at this point, “If you’d just let me explain, --”

“I don’t need your explanations,” Akutagawa hisses, and he’s so angry, Atsushi nearly recoils at the intensity in his eyes when he looks back at Atsushi.

“I just don’t understand,” he says, and hates how small his voice sounds. “I can’t just change how I feel.”

Akutgawa narrows his eyes at that, mouth opening to snarl something in return. Atsushi, for a split second, thinks he sees something underneath the anger, then Akutagawa’s expression settles, and his gaze slides past Atsushi to Dazai.

“We’re done,” he says, and even after how Akutagawa had treated Atsushi, even if Atsushi had feared they wouldn’t come back from this, the finality with which Akutagawa says it still hurts.

Then Akutagawa turns and he’s out of the warehouse in an instant, door slamming.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Dazai says.

“Would someone tell me what’s going on?” Nakahara-san asks, confused.

Atsushi is too angry to respond. At Dazai, for forcing them together in the first place, despite it being clear that it was always going to be a wasted effort; at Akutagawa, for throwing in the towel like that, for making him feel like their training, their relationship, had meant nothing; and at himself, for being stupid enough to think that Akutagawa and him had made progress these last couple of months, that they’d at least gotten to a point where they could talk to each other. That Akutagawa cared so little about him, when he cared so much.

Eyes prickling, he says: “I’m done, too.”

He tries not to notice Dazai’s almost pitying look when he leaves.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Dazai seems to have gotten the message, at least, postponing all training sessions until further notice. The Special Division, if upset, don’t try to get in touch with Atsushi, neither to discuss what had happened nor for any mission requests. If they talk to Dazai, he doesn’t relay their communication to Atsushi, something Atsushi’s grateful for it, He doesn’t think he would be able to deal with the crushing guilt of letting them down on top of his grief. The other Agency members try their best to comfort Atsushi, even without knowing the full extend of the situation, believing his and Akutagawa’s fallout just an inevitable conclusion to an experiment doomed to fail from the start. He appreciates their efforts, even if it does little to quell the dull ache whenever his thoughts start circling, again and again, to what had happened.

Akutagawa, in all that time, makes no attempt to contact him. Atsushi isn’t sure if he even wants to talk to him, still feeling hurt and confused by Akutagawa’s outburst. It’s not just the rejection that hurts, but Akutagawa’s refusal to work it out, together, to figure out a way past it. That their relationship had apparently meant so little to Akutagawa was painful in a way Atsushi can’t put into words, an angry wound opening whenever he let himself dwell on it for too long.

The thing that hurts the most, in all of it, is that despite what he had said in the warehouse, despite everything, he doesn’t want to be done. Not with the missions, the training, or the conversations he’d had with Akutagawa. He can’t help the yearning whenever he walks past a shop window selling sweets, or when he’s out on an assignment with one of the Agency members, missing the easy company he’d built with Akutagawa.

Dazai, in all of it, strays tactfully out of the way. Maybe he senses that Atsushi is trying to avoid him, too. If he’s honest with himself, Atsushi isn’t even really sure why. It’s not like Dazai hadn’t witnessed their fight, and Atsushi’s almost certain he’d talked to Akutagawa about what had happened at the mansion. Maybe, talking to Dazai, hearing him confirm Akutagawa’s anger for Atsushi, would feel too much like a conclusion he doesn’t want, like the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with Akutagawa.

He’s therefore quite surprised when Dazai approaches him, a week after his fight with Akutagawa, asking if he’d meet an informant for him.

“I can ask someone else, if you’re busy,” Dazai says, as he hands him a piece of paper with the address.

Atsushi studies the note. The meeting would be pretty late and Atsushi’s already tired, even at 2 pm. Not that he’d be able to sleep, even if he made it home early. His sleep schedule had never been the best, but now it was downright depressing, tossing and turning for hours, most nights, until the sun came up. It might do him good, Atsushi thinks, to get his mind off of things for a while, focus on an assignment. He takes the slip of paper, pocketing it. “I can do it.”

The sky’s colouring purple by the time he makes it downtown, to the specified address. He’d told Kyouka were he was, just in case, no idea how trustworthy the informant would be. It’s cold out, and Atsushi shivers at the icy wind that’s biting into his skin. He steps from one foot to the other, trying to warm himself up. From where he’s standing, he can just about make out the bustle and rustle of people walking a few alleys away. It sounds lively, but it is Friday evening, so that’s to be expected. There’s a noise behind Atsushi, and he turns towards it, expecting the informant had come up behind him. He wonders if it’s someone he knows.

He stops in his tracks when he realises who was standing at the alley’s opening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Akutagawa’s rooted to the spot, the surprised expression mirroring how Atsushi is feeling. He’s in his coat and white shirt, dressed for official business. Atsushi notices, with a start, the faint dark circles under his eyes. He looks exhausted.

“Wait,” Atsushi says, startled. “You’re the informant?”

“What?” Akutagawa replies, “Dazai never said—” he stops, eyebrows drawing together, before his face clears, giving way to pure exasperation, half turning away from Atsushi. “That scheming coat wearing – I’ll kill him for this.”

It takes Atsushi another moment to put two and two together himself, inwardly groaning when he does. Of course it was Dazai. He had asked Atsushi to come to this specific address, and it seems he’d done the same to Akutagawa. Atsushi feels stupid for not having figured it out when Dazai had asked him, earlier today. It’s seems so obvious in hindsight.

Akutagawa, for his part, doesn’t seem to want to stick around, turning around on the spot to walk away.

Seeing Akutagawa’s retreating form, Atsushi feels something like panic, and almost on instinct, he takes a step towards him. “Akutagawa, wait,“ he says and doesn’t miss how pleading his voice sounds. Akutagawa doesn’t turn around, but he does stop walking. Atsushi struggles for words, not wanting to choose the wrong ones. “Can’t we at least talk about this?”

Akutagawa, stubbornly, refuses to look at him. “There’s nothing I have to say to you.”

At Akutagawa’s refusal, Atsushi feels a sudden irritation rise in him.

“Don’t you care at all?” he says, unable to keep the anger out of his voice, “The mission, at least? The Special Division, Dazai, are counting—” He knows bringing up Dazai is a bit of a low blow, but he’s so frustrated, he doesn’t care.

Akutagawa’s head jerks, indignant. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, I’m sure they’ll find someone else to take over,” even from where he’s standing, Atsushi can see Akutagawa’s hands tense, his shoulders square. “Let them do it themselves for all I care.” Akutagawa is still not looking at him, but there’s an inflection in his voice that’s just the slightest bit off, just enough to tell Atsushi he’s more affected than he wants to let on. His posture, too, reads overly defensive, as if he’s actively fighting against his body’s reaction. Atsushi feels something like relief at that, at noticing Akutagawa feels at least some guilt about abandoning what they’d started.

“Why won’t you at least let me explain?” Atsushi says, voice low. He takes another step towards Akutagawa, “I just don’t understand, we were starting to really get along, why--”

“Why can’t you just drop it?” Akutagawa whirls around, and Atsushi hears how upset Akutagawa sounds, rather than angry, like he had expected. “God, why does it always have to be such a struggle with you? What do you want to explain? I get it, you don’t like me. It’s okay. We can go back to how things were, is that what you want?”

“I—” Atsushi is too stunned to speak for a moment. Akutagawa thought Atsushi didn’t like him? “What are you talking about?”, he says, bewildered. “You were the one--?”

A gunshot rings out, and then, immediately after, another one. Atsushi struggles to make sense of the noise, before he realises what’s happening and ducks, pressing his back against the wall closest to him. Akutagawa had done the same, and when Atsushi looks back at him, their eyes meet. Akutagawa’s expression is confused, but there’s something under it, softer, that Atsushi’s mind is grabbing onto, almost desperately. Akutagawa had thought Atsushi didn’t like him. He hadn’t been angry that Atsushi liked him. That meant --- There’s another gunshot and even if it takes everything in him, Atsushi pulls his gaze away. “We’re not done with this.” he says, looking back to lock eyes with Akutagawa for one long second, before he’s off, sprinting down the alley, where they noise had come from, activating his Ability as he does, thoughts whirring.

Akutagawa had thought Atsushi had rejected him, back at the mansion. That’s why he’d been so angry, why he had lashed out at him during practise. Atsushi had completely misjudged the situation. He’s too worked up to follow that train of thought, but there’s something blossoming inside him, dangerously hopeful as he rounds a corner, readying himself for battle.

He realises his mistake too late, too preoccupied to follow safety protocol, having dove into the alley before checking if it’s safe to. Instantly, he’s hit by a blast, catching him on his lower stomach. It takes less than a second before he hits the floor, hard, skidding on the asphalt as he does. He groans, putting a hand on the concrete to push himself up. It hurt. The bullet must have hit him harder than he had realised, if he’s feeling it this intensely despite his Activity being activated. He tries to struggle to his feet, but he’s still too dazed, having problems orienting himself. He makes another attempt, swaying with the effort. His legs feel like jelly and he has to reposition himself so he doesn’t fall over. Someone’s shouting in the distance, but his head is throbbing, making it hard to concentrate on anything. Why was he feeling so dazed? It had almost sounded like--- He glances up, having just time for his vision to focus, when, in a flurry of movement he’s on the ground again, breath knocked out of him at the impact of someone crashing into him, pushing down, the bullet of another gunshot landing in the wall right where Atsushi had been a moment ago.

“Do you have a death wish, Weretiger?!” Akutagawa growls, voice unusually strained.

Atsushi’s too surprised to react. Akutagawa is breathing hard, as if he’d expended immense energy to get to Atsushi in time. He’s bent over Atsushi, face twisted towards where the bullet had come from, one arm supporting his weight as his other one is outstretched behind him commanding his Ability. Atsushi can see that Rashomon’s Space Distortion is activated, a protective shield in case of any more bullets coming their way.

“What are you--” He starts to ask, trying to make sense of the situation, as he pushes himself up from where’s he’s lying. Almost immediately, he falls back, vision swimming at the sharp pain running up his side. Akutagawa, whose focus had been directed at his Ability, turns his head, looking Atsushi over, eyes going wide as he does.He brings his hand up to Atsushi’s side, where the initial bullet had hit Atsushi. With its regeneration powers, the tiger should have been able to close the wound by now, but when Akutagawa’s hand comes away, it’s wet, covered in fresh blood.

Something is very wrong.

I’m bleeding out. Atsushi thinks, faintly, as he tries, and fails, to activate his Ability.

“I can’t..--” he tries, but even talking is painful, and he bites back on the discomfort, breath hissing out of him on the exhale

“Shut up, I know” Akutagawa grits out, looking between Atsushi and the alley, seemingly going through his options. “Just- give me a moment to think.” He sounds worried, Atsushi realises, a little stunned.

Strands of Akutagawa’s hair have fallen in his face, but Akutagawa makes no move to push them aside, too focused to notice or care. Atsushi wants to reach out and brush them aside, knowing it’s a bad idea. It feels unreal, seeing Akutagawa like this, after their last encounter had gone, how angry he’d been. He doesn’t look angry now. Luckily, no more bullets are coming their way for now, meaning the person shooting had either fled or was laying low, not having a clear shot to fire again. Atsushi attempts to activate his Ability again, but it’s no use. Had the bullet contained something, stopping Abilities? If so, did that mean Akutagawa was in danger of losing his Ability too, if he was hit? Atsushi feels the guilt of their situation like a heavy weight on his chest. This was all his fault, if he hadn’t been so distracted he could have dodged the bullet easily, and now they were both in harm’s way because of it.

“I’m so—”

“I said, shut up”, Akutagawa interrupts him, not looking at him. After a moment, he adds, more softly “You can tell me when we’re out of here.”

It’s another couple of seconds, before Akutagawa’s expression sets, determined. He turns around, hand pressing over Atsushi’s wound. “Rashomon can stop the bleeding” he says, looking at Atsushi, “Some of it, at least. But it’s going to hurt.”

He doesn’t wait for Atsushi’s response, but Atsushi doesn’t think he could say no even if he wanted to. He only has a split second to prepare before Akutagawa’s body starts glowing red.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said it would hurt. As Rashomon presses into Atsushi’s injury, finding the broken tissue inside, starting to close it with its fibres, his body throbs with pain, wave after wave of white-hot agony. It’s excruciating. Atsushi grits his teeth against the angry, discomfort, but can’t help the strained gasp that escapes him, head falling back. “Almost done,” Akutagawa says, and Atsushi can only nod, weakly, jaw clenched. The moments it takes for the pain to settles into something more manageable feel endless, Atsushi exhaling in relief when the last of it ebbs off into a dull ache Atsushi can breathe around more comfortably. His head feels foggy, like he’s not really all there. Had he lost consciousness? He has little to no time to dwell on the thought, however, because almost immediately, they’re off the ground, Akutagawa’s body twisted back towards the alley, balancing Atsushi behind him with his Ability, shielding him from any incoming attacks. Bullets start firing almost as soon as they take off, and Akutagawa stays as close to the wall as possible to evade them. Atsushi has problems focusing, thoughts swimming. He hears the whoosh of several bullets passing by them, as Akutagawa has to swerve to avoid them.

They land somewhere high up - probably a rooftop, Atsushi thinks - behind the parapet, giving them at least some cover in case the person shooting was giving chase.

The impact is rough, Akutagawa going for speed rather than precision. Atsushi is surprised at how little it hurts. He’s not even feeling the wound that much any more. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he realises he’s probably going into shock from the blood loss, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. Especially not when Akutagawa is leaning over him, concern in his eyes, careful hands patting down his body.

He’s checking for other injuries, Atsushi realises, and feels a rush of affection go through him at the thought of Akutagawa caring enough to do so. “Were you hit?” he hears Akutagawa ask, sounding weirdly far away.

He can’t see Akutagawa any more, eyes having fallen shut, but he can’t seem to open them. Was he hit? He doesn’t think so, but it’s hard to distinguish feelings right now. Everything feels kind of numb. He wants to answer, to let Akutagawa know he’s okay, but it seems like so much effort to open his mouth. Maybe if he just --

He’s shaken, quite forcefully. “Hey, don’t fall asleep,” Akutagawa’s voice is almost panicked. There’s a hand on his forehead. “You have to stay awake, Atsushi, come on.” Atsushi does open his eyes at that, too stunned by Akutagawa using his first name not to.

Akutagawa is staring at him, looking more spooked than he’d ever seen him.

“I have to check your wound,” he says, tearing his eyes away to look at Atsushi’s side. Atsushi feels frustrated at the loss of eye-contact, but a moment later, all thoughts are forgotten as he feels Akutagawa’s fingers on his hip, lifting the hem of his shirt, feeling underneath, Rashomon unfastening slightly for Akutagawa. Atsushi knows he should feel embarrassed, but doesn’t have it in himself to protest, especially when Akutagawa’s fingers feel so gentle and warm against his skin. It’s a nice distraction from how cold he is.

“Feels nice…” he mumbles and Akutagawa’s hands still where he’s checking Atsushi. Atsushi groans, disapprovingly, at the loss of warmth. “..don’t stop..”

He thinks he hears an exasperated “Goddammit, Atsushi”, but the words sound slightly muffled. He’s so distracted at Akutagawa having used his name, again, that he misses most of what he is saying next, only catching fragments of it. Something about the Detective Agency, he thinks.

A moment later, he feels familiar fabric tendrils rewrap around his torso tightly, and reacts with a weak protest at the discomfort that Akutagawa ignores. He does feel a little better now, he thinks. He definitely feels lighter somehow, and more tired. Sleeping seems like a good idea right now, just for a moment, just a minute…

He’s jolted back to consciousness by a less than gentle jab to his uninjured side “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me now.” Atsushi doesn’t miss the panicked edge in Akutagawa’s voice. Atsushi feels somewhat guilty at hearing Akutagawa this distressed, but at the same time, can’t help but be endeared by it. It’s nice hearing him concerned, for him. As much as he tries, he doesn’t think he can stay awake though. He’s faintly aware that they’ve taken off again. He can just imagine Akutagawa, pulling them forward with Rashomon.

We’re so fast.. Atsushi thinks. Before he he can think better of it, he mumbles out “You’re incredible,” the words coming out somewhat slurred.

He so wants to look at Akutagawa’s face, to see him, but when he tries to open his eyes, he can’t. He feels strange, like he’s being pulled into a tunnel, further and further down. Atsushi struggles against it, feeling like he’s on the cusp of understanding something important, but he loses track of it before he can get a hold of the realisation completely. He thinks he hears Akutagawa say something, but it’s too far away to make out, and then darkness envelops him completely.

I never apologised is the last thing Atsushi thinks before he slips into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Atsushi doesn’t want to wake up. He wants to stay like this, pleasantly warm. There’s weight against him, comfortable, holding him, but his mind is stubborn, stirring at the idea. Why was someone holding him like this? Then, just as quickly, the weight is gone, and with it, the warmth and comfort, too. He feels cold, like he had been when he’d been lying on the rooftop -- Oh, right, his mind supplies, he’d been injured. He’d been injured, and bleeding and Akutagawa--

Atsushi sits up, struggling to take a breath. As he tries to gulp in some air, his eyes slowly adjust to the bright lights and worried faces around him. He realises, then, that he’s in the ADA’s infirmary as the faces come into focus completely.

“Atsushi, we’re so happy you’re okay,” Naomi sighs at the end of the hospital bed, relieved. Yosano, standing beside her, looks pleased, hand still glowing from having used her Ability.

Atsushi starts to say something, but can’t seem to form a full sentence.n.

“You gave us quite a fright,” Tanizaki says, just as relieved, from the side of the bed. “I’m not sure what would have happened if Yosano hadn’t been here, or Dazai.”

Atsushi tries to makes sense of what Tanizaki is saying. “So it was an Ability?” he asks, “That’s why I couldn’t use my regeneration?” His eyes search the room, and he realises that he’s looking for Akutagawa. Akutagawa, who isn’t there. There’s something that twists in him uncomfortably, at the realisatio

“We’re still figuring out the details, but it was an Ability, that’s for sure.” Tanizaki tries his best to explain, sounding unsure himself. “Our best guess is that it blocks Abilities’ effects but only works through injuries inflicted. Kunikida was talking to police to find out details last I heard.”

“So, he’s in custody already?”, Atsushi says, confused, forcing his eyes away from the open door. “The Ability user, I mean?”

“Yes, we got a call as soon as the first shots were fired, Kenji and Kyouka were supposed to help, but they never even made it there since police had already apprehended him,” Tanizaki says. “I think they’re on their way back now.”

Atsushi needs to let that sink in for a moment, before he asks, reluctant, not sure if he wants to know the answer, “Where’s Dazai? And Akutagawa?”

Tanizaki and Naomi exchange a look, and Atsushi thinks he sees something flit across their faces as they do, something that makes the apprehension he’s already feeling bloom into something more acute.

“We thought we were being attacked at first when Akutagawa came in.” Naomi says “It was pretty scary. He even smashed a window.”

Tanizaki adds, looking uncomfortable, “It was quite a sight, both of you bloodied, you unconscious…”

Atsushi looks between them, not really understanding what they were getting at.

“We weren’t very nice to him,” Naomi admits, a little ruefully. At Atushi’s expression, Tanizaki brings his hands up defensively, even if his voice sounds just as apologetic as his sister’s “Well, the last we heard, he had attacked you during training. And then he turns up with you, like that, we were worried. It’s not like we threw him out,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “we just, kind of accused him of causing your injury at first. He left once Yosano stepped in, and I think that’s when Dazai left, too. It was a bit of a chaotic situation.” He does look genuinely apologetic as he glances at Atsushi. “I’m sorry.”

Atsushi’s is up and at the door before he knows it, stepping past Yosano to do so, but she doesn’t protest. He turns around, bowing. “I’m not angry, but I have to go. Thanks so much for taking care of me, all of you.”

He doesn’t wait for their reactions, sprinting down the hallway instead, thoughts racing as he takes the stairs two steps at a time.

Akutagawa had brought him here. He’s smashed a window in his urgency to do so. Had he hurt himself? Atsushi tries not to pay attention to the guilt bubbling up at the thought, focusing instead on the quiet blossoming of hope. He’d said he liked Atsushi, back in the alley.

He arrives on the lowest floor in no time at all, and when he’s outside, he has to take a moment, looking around for any sign of Dazai or Akutagawa. When he doesn’t see either, he decides to turn right. It’s the direction Akutagawa’s apartment is located, the only thing Atsushi really has to go on. He makes it to the corner of the street pretty quickly, careening slightly as he rounds the corner. There, standing on the side walk, is Dazai, turning towards him at the noise. Atsushi slows, then stops completely, hands falling to his side. Akutagawa is nowhere to be seen.

The disappointment is so crushing and sudden, Atsushi feels it like a punch to his stomach. Stupid, he thinks, not able to help his hands balling into fists at the sheer intensity of the feeling of rejection. He was so stupid, thinking Akutagawa would actually wait for him, thinking this changed anything. He had left, hadn’t he? So he hadn’t wanted to stick around and wait for Atsushi to wake up, no matter what he’d said, how he felt. A burning sensation makes its way up his throat. He’s not even aware he’s sitting down until his thighs hit the curb.

When Dazai sits down next to him, wordlessly, coat spread out behind him, Atsushi doesn’t protest.

He tries to say something, but can’t help it when his eyes fill with tears, instead. He rubs at his face, unsuccessfully, trying to make them stop. “I’m sorry,” is all he gets out before he’s crying in earnest.

Dazai stays quiet, letting Atsushi cry. It’s a long while until Atsushi doesn’t feel like his heart is falling into pieces, knees drawn up to his chest, head buried in the space between them.

“I hate this” he says, eventually, turning his head enough to be able to glance at Dazai out of the corner of his eye. “Why do I care so much, when he doesn’t seem to care at all?” It’s the first time he’s come close to openly talking to Dazai about it, but the other doesn’t seem surprised, studying him with some interest.

“What makes you think he doesn’t?”, he says, instead.

“He made it quite clear,”Atsushi mumbles, sullenly, head still resting on his knees.

“You think so?”, Dazai answers, leaning back, arms crossed, as if he’s hadn’t considered the possibility before. Atsushi lifts his head, unbelieving.

“He won’t even talk to me.”

“Ah well,” Dazai concedes, though his tone stays unconcerned “That’s Akutagawa for you.” When he notices Atsushi’s unconvinced expression, he adds, “He’s always been his worst enemy when it comes to his own feelings. It’s the way he copes with rejection. Anger’s how he shows he cares, unfortunately.”

“That’s the things though,” Atsushi says, “I never rejected him in the first place.”

Dazai does look surprised at that. It’s the first time Atsushi’s seen him surprised in all their conversation. “Well, he certainly seems to think that.”

“I was just startled,” Atsushi explains, “and then he pulled back and--” Atsushi buries his hands into his hair, frustrated. “I can’t even get him to really look at me, ever since.”

“Sounds quite the opposite of not caring,” Dazai says, not unkindly.

Atsushi considers this, letting Dazai’s words sink in. Thinking about Akutagawa, furious, in the training hall. But he’s thinking about other times, too, when Akutagawa had pulled Atsushi back, out of harms way, at the airport, tone berating. When he’d sacrificed himself, on that ship, so Atsushi could escape, calling him a fool. Sitting up a little straighter he turns to Dazai, “...so then...? You think--?”

“It doesn’t really matter what I think,” Dazai says, again, not without kindness.

“What do I do now?” Atsushi asks, as he tries to wrap his head around it

Falling back on his hands, propping himself up, Dazai sighs, “I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask. Not the best track record,.” He’s looking away from Atsushi, and his his expression changes. There’s something almost wistful in his eyes when he continues, eyes fixed on something on the other side of the street, “You make it work or you don’t, it’s as simple as that.”

Something about the way Dazai says it makes Atsushi think he isn’t just talking about him and Akutagawa any more.

He looks at Dazai for another moment, trying to go through his options as he does. What would give him the best chance to talk to Akutagawa, to make him listen to him?

Making up his mind. He gets to his feet, turning to Dazai as he does. “I need to get my phone,” he says, turning away. Looking down at himself, grimacing at the ripped and bloody shirt he’s wearing, he adds. “And maybe, some fresh clothes.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When he arrives at Akutagawa’s apartment building 30 minutes later, out of breath from running, Nakahara-san is waiting for him in the lobby already, looking decidedly unimpressed.

“I’ll have you know I don’t generally make a habit of playing doorman on my nights off, ” he proclaims, as soon as he spots Atsushi, hands on his hips.

“Thank you so much for picking up when I called,” Atsushi says as he stops in front of the PM executive, catching his breath. “Really, I can’t thank you enough, Nakahara-san,” he adds, bowing apologetically.

Nakahara-san stays in his irritable position for another moment, before the tension seems to leave him, turning away with a sigh, “Come on then, before I change my mind.” Atsushi can’t be sure, but he thinks he hadn’t imagined the redness tingeing his cheeks.

Inside the elevator, Atsushi doesn’t miss Nakahara-san giving him a quick once over, look appraising. Probably, he’s noticing his somewhat unconventional get up. Tanizaki had been nice enough to lend him his sweater when he’d come back to the ADA to find his phone. The sweater is comfortable enough, but slightly too long in the arms and torso for Atsushi’s frame, looking a little awkward oh him he’s sure. Atsushi feels himself grow self-conscious under Nakahara-san’s gaze, especially when the PM official steps closer, grabbing one of Atsushi’s arms.

“Wha—”

Nakahara-san shushes him, rolling up the sweater’s sleeve until it’s snugly secured at Atsushi’s elbow, “I’m still only half-sure what’s going on between you two,” he says, unexpectedly as he moves on to the other arm, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the fabric, “And Akutagawa for sure acted like an ass,” he glances up, for a moment, pointedly, before his gaze slides down again. “but underneath it all, he’s a good kid. And despite what it may seem, he cares more than he lets on.”

Atsushi considers Nakahara-san, expression thoughtful. “Dazai said something similar,” he replies, eventually. Nakahara-san’s hands still at his arm at the name. “I think it’s because he cares more than he lets on, too.”

Just for a second, easy to miss, Nakahara-san’s expression changes, before he’s stepping back, clearing his throat, hand on his neck. “Well, do keep it in mind.”

The elevator dings open, and Nakahara-san all but shoves Atsushi out of it when he doesn’t immediately step out.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” the PM official says, seemingly back to his usual confident self, “But this is as far as I’m going.”

Atsushi swallows against the sudden lump in his throat, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Thank you again, Nakahara-san. This really means a lot,” he says, turning around to face the PM official.

Nakahara-san crosses his arms. ““Well, just-” he says, voice flustered, “do try to get this figured out, both of you” He presses the button to his own floor, door closing. “Seriously, If I have to listen to Dazai whine about you two one more time I think I might have to push him from the nearest building.”

Then the doors close and Atsushi’s left alone in the hallway, staring after the PM official, a little stunned.

He shakes himself out of it, focusing on the mission at hand. When he walks up to Akutagawa’s door, he can hear his own heartbeat, loud in his chest.

He takes another steadying breath and rings the doorbell, waiting.

It takes an agonisingly long time until Atsushi can make out the sound of movement from behind the door.

Then it opens, Akutagawa is standing there, and for a moment, Atsushi forgets everything he’d wanted to say.

In all actuality, there’s a hundred thoughts running through Atsushi’s head, but none of them seem to want to manifest. Akutagawa’s not wearing his coat, instead only dressed in a dark shirt and trousers. His hands and arms are clean, no traces of any blood left on them, but there is a bandage on peeking out under his shirt, at the top of his right forearm. There’s a towel around his shoulders and the tips of his hair seem slightly wet. He notices Akutagawa’s gaze, surprised, before landing on Atsushi’s side instead, the one that had been injured, eyebrows drawing together, before he looks to the side, expression setting into something angrier.

“What do you want?” Akutagawa says, and he definitely sounds irritated, but now that Atsushi listens for it, he can make out the distress underneath it. It’s not the only thing he notices. It’s the too tight jaw, the way Akutagawa is avoiding eye-contact, even now. He also hasn’t let go of the door, as if steadying himself. Atsushi exhales.

“Back at the mansion,” Atsushi’s says, and his voice is quiet, quieter than he had wanted it to be. He sees Akutagawa’s eyes widen, just a fraction but presses on, needing to get to the point. “I never meant to make you feel rejected.” He takes a step towards Akutagawa, over the doorstep, heart pounding. “That’s not at at all—” he stops, breath rattling out of him, full of nerves.

“I like you,” Atsushi says, because really, in the end, it’s that simple.

Akutagawa’s reaction, as Atsushi had expected, is full-body, moving back in one fluid motion. It’s almost like he’s recoiling from Atsushi, stung by the words. When he looks up, Akutagawa’s eyes are so full of emotion; anger, hurt, and something else mixing in them.

“Don’t you dare,” Akutagawa says, then, and he sounds anguished. Atsushi feels it as if the pain is his own. Atsushi’s heart aches in response, wanting nothing more than reach out and brush the angry expression off his face, reassure him that he means it, despite what Akutagawa might think. He looks so angry, so betrayed and Atsushi remembers what Dazai had said, what Nakahara-san had said. When it comes to his own feelings, he’s his own worst enemy; He cares more than he lets on. Gently, he takes another step.

“Akutagawa, I-” he starts, but Akutagawa interrupts, him, as he moves away further, wincing.

“No,” He takes another step away, and his back hits the kitchen counter. His eyes flash as they meet Atsushi’s, nowhere else to go, “I know you don’t--” he stops himself, taking a breath, “--don’t you dare lie--”

“I was surprised,” Atsushi says, stopping, not wanting to crowd Akutagawa, even when he yearned to move closer. Akutagawa is rooted to the spot, studying him, eyes darting across Atsushi’s face. He’s checking to see if I’m serious, Atsushi thinks. Spurred on by the revelation, he continues. “I only realised, in that moment, that I liked you. I should have realised sooner, but I didn’t, and then you were there, so close, and you looked at me and I wanted--,” he has to stop, voice having risen too high. Akutagawa is still eerily quiet, eyes having fixed somewhere past Atsushi, a storm raging behind his face. Atsushi can feel his fingernails digging into his palms as he continues, more softly. “-and then you pulled back, and I thought it didn’t matter what I wanted.”

For a long moment, they don’t say anything, the only sound the wind tapping on the windows outside, the faint hum of the world below.

“You said something, back in the alley,” Atsushi says, carefully, look searching Akutagawa’s avoiding eyes. “That it didn’t matter if I didn’t like you. Does that—” Atsushi’s heart is so loud in his ears, it feels deafening. “Do you like me, too?”

Akutagawa doesn’t respond, at first. Atsushi waits, as his heart continues to hammer out a staccato beat against his ribs. Then, ever so slightly, Akutagawa turns his head, towards Atsushi. His eyes slide over, slowly, just a moment. Akutagawa doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t deny what Atsushi had said, what he’d asked, either, and that’s enough for Atsushi. He moves, until he’s standing in front of Akutagawa, their bodies so close he can feel Akutagawa’s breath against his face, uneven.

Akutagawa’s eyebrows are drawn together, but his eyes are bright when he looks at Atsushi.

Atsushi can’t look away.

Slowly, so slowly, not wanting to startle, wanting Akutagawa to be able to pull back if he really wanted to, Atsushi leans in, eyes falling shut as he brushes his lips against Akutagawa’s, just once, barely a touch of skin against skin.

When he pulls back again, eyes opening, he finds Akutagawa looking at him. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in it that makes Atsushi’s already uneven breath feel even unsteadier, like all the air has been sucked out of him.

Atsushi’s body is trembling, he notices, like electricity humming under his skin, buzzing from having touched Akutagawa. He wonders if he should say something, but he doesn’t think he could form the words even if there was a single thought left to articulate. All he can do is look into Akutagawa’s eyes, waiting. Akutagawa stays quiet too, and the silence feels vast, like an ocean between them, giving no indication to Akutagawa’s thoughts. Atsushi’s so afraid Akutagawa will push him away, or walk off, despite everything. The voice in his head was a cruel one, after all. Even so, he can’t do anything, feeling locked in place.

Slowly, cautiously, Akutagawa’s hands come up to rest at Atsushi’s side, just where the bullet had hit him earlier today, fingers pressing into the fabric of Tanizaki’s sweater, burying themselves there. Then Akutagawa’s body follows, and Atsushi’s breath stutters on an exhale as Akutagawa’s lips touch his again.

They’re soft, softer than Atsushi had had time to realise the first time. He’s warm too, Atsushi notices, as his body presses into Atsushi’s, and more tentative than Atsushi would have imagined. There’s a hesitancy in Akutagawa’s movements, like he’s afraid Atsushi might disappear if he isn’t careful, and Atsushi marvels at it. Too long, he realises, when he feels Akutagawa pull away again before he’s had a chance to respond. Springing into action, his hands come up to bury themselves into Akutagawa’s shirt, almost desperate to keep him like this, to let him know this is okay, opening his mouth against Akutagawa’s as he steps closer, letting himself have this.

Akutagawa makes a sound at Atsushi’s insistence, breath hitching softly, as he moves against him, and Atsushi thinks he would take a hundred bullets if it meant hearing that sound again. Or for Akutagawa to keep kissing him back, open-mouthed and needy, hands moving to press into the small of Atsushi’s back, drawing him closer.

He breathes out a laugh, almost giddy, and feels rather than hears Akutagawa’s sigh in response. It takes almost all of his effort to pull back, needing to get some air back into his lungs, needing to see Akutagawa’s face.

Akutagawa’s hair looks even more dishevelled than it had before. He’s decidedly blushing now, cheeks tinged a dark pink. It’s a good look, Atsushi thinks, feeling his own cheeks heat up in response. Akutagawa’s looking at Atsushi, wide-eyed and Atsushi can’t help the smile forming on his lips.

He looks soft, all the edges smoothed out of him. Atsushi knows he's staring again, but he can't help it. Akutagawa doesn't seem to mind, holding his gaze.

He makes a mental note to send a gift basket to Nakahara-san, later.

Absentmindely, Atsushi’s hands run along Akutagawa’s arms, and when his fingers touch the bandage on his forearm he startles, remembering why Akutagawa was injured in the first place.

“Sorry you got hurt because of me,” Atsushi says, as his thumb brushes over the edge of the dressing gently, silent apology. Akutagawa shivers in response and Atsushi tries not to let it show how much that small reaction affects him.

“Just—” Akutagawa says, looking away, sounding embarrassed. Even still, Atsushi can see him watching him out of the corner of his eye. “don’t do it again.”

Atsushi hums in response, non-committal. He knows it comes with their jobs that they’ll probably get hurt again, and that they’ll get hurt to protect each other, too. He thinks Akutagawa knows, too. The huff Akutagawa gives, half exasperated and half something else, softer, affectionate, tells Atsushi as much.

Atsushi had thought Akutagawa might move away, now that they’d broken apart. Instead, he makes no attempt to move away from Atsushi’s touch. If anything, he’s pulling Atsushi closer, hands a steady weight on him. His own hands on Akutagawa’s arms flex in response. “How were you even able to get inside the building?” Akutagawa, asks, then.

“Nakahara-san,” Atsushi replies, a tad self-consciously at having roped him into the whole thing, even if it had worked out. However, Akutagawa’s expression makes up for some of it, almost comical as he turns his head to look fully at Atsushi. Even more so, when Atsushi adds, “He said you acted like an ass.” Then, after another moment, not wanting to tease him too much. “He said some rather nice things about you, too.” Akutagawa’s expression sits somewhere between mortified and charmingly disarmed.

He thinks he’d enjoy telling Akutagawa more about what Nakahara-san had said, if this was his reaction but just then, Atsushi remembers something else, and casts away the idea as he feels the tips of his ears heat up at the memory of it. Akutagawa’s gaze, having noticed, turns quizzical.

“You used my first name,”

Akutagawa’s hands tighten, just barely. “I did not,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice, the slightest bit of alarm at realising Atsushi had remembered. Atsushi picks up on it easily, even when Akutagawa tries his best to hide it.

He studies Akutagawa for a moment, head tilting to the side. Akutagawa narrows his eyes at the too innocent expression.

Atsushi sounds the syllables out, careful to take his time, and watches Akutagawa’s reaction, the exact moment he realises just what Atsushi is doing. "Ry-u-no-su-ke." The deep blush spreading up to Akutagawa's ears is definitely worth it. Atsushi brings a hand up to Akutagawa's cheek, cupping it as his faces splits into a smile.

"Just trying it out,” he says, and revels at it when Akutagawa, without really even seeming to think about it, turns his face into the touch.

When Atsushi leans in for another kiss, Akutagawa meets him halfway