Work Text:
when sleep passes him by at night, what is it that he thinks of?
in the stillness of an unlit room the thoughts ran freely, only getting tangled in between the soft strands of hair - unnaturally white for that matter. have you ever asked him about his hair? should you even? it's probably for the best he doesn't know just how often the thought crosses your mind. it's best that he doesn't know, you think.
it's strange having him this close. what you know well enough is that he doesn't like being touched - flinching from the slightest accidental contact like a fearful animal. you find it bizarre, but also concerning. you keep thinking to yourself that it's better not to ask and yet here he is at an arms length - his body limp, curled up next to yours as if it's something common. something that feels right. does it really? the room is cold and you are trying not to think about his hands. in fact if it wasn't for them you wouldn't be able to tell he's not asleep, he's been picking at his skin for as long as you've been here, tiny motions of his fingers almost disappearing in the haze of the late evening. something weighing on his mind.. perhaps this evening the unending flow of thoughts is tormenting them both.
osamu lifted his hand slightly, and gently caressed the head of the man lying next to him with only his fingertips, a slow motion, a careful touch. akagi didn't flinch. osamu couldn't see his face from this angle, but he saw his chest heave - he sighed softly at the feeling. after a moment of stillness akagi propped one of his arms under himself, shifting his weight to change his resting position in favor of moving closer to the freckle-faced boy, who was currently playing with his hair. he leaned on his shoulder, resting his eyes on osamu.
now osamu could see him a little better, met with a gaze too difficult to describe. his silver bangs were sticking to his forehead now, covering most of it, making his usually stoic face look silly. well, to osamu at least. but his eyes.. with his eyelids half-closed and him blinking slowly it was too obvious just how tired he was. maybe it's the sleepless nights at the parlors, or maybe the thoughts keeping him up whenever he tried to rest. “it's better not to ask” osamu thinks to himself. though he can't help but wonder. nevertheless - akagi was staring him down, and quite intensely at that. could it be worry that he sees in his eyes? osamu made a puzzled expression, silently asking what's wrong.
“you're not breathing.” came out quietly, a bit quieter than expected - perhaps the drowsiness still settling in. and letting the tinge of care sip through the tone of his voice.
“oh! sorry,” osamu blinked rapidly, forcing himself back to reality “got lost in thought. again.” how stupid.
he could see akagi shake his head slightly. he moved again, now laying his head back on the cotton sheets, closer than before, but still inches away from each other. akagi moved his hand to osamu's, a motion that could be seen as accidental, nudging it gently. whatever osamu was spiraling about now - he was sure it was related to him. or his recent gambles. the more they spent their time together, the further did osamu's worry for him grow, and it wasn't something akagi wanted to admit.
the silence of the room was starting to feel nauseating. akagi spoke first.
“don't overthink it.” a pause. a quiet “please.”
osamu was resting his eyes on akagi, absently admiring the glimmer of the evening on his skin. he let a shadow of a half-smile form on his lips - he wasn't overthinking, he knew with full confidence that his friend wasn't treating himself with enough care, that he didn't value his life in the slightest, wouldn't flinch if the ground started falling from under his feet. osamu's eyes drifted to akagi's right shoulder. “i wonder if it still hurts,” he thought, “i wonder if he's been taking proper care of it,” he thought, “..of course he doesn't.”
he could feel something swell up in his throat. perhaps he's been thinking too loudly.
after not getting a response, akagi softly crawled his hand onto the slightly callused palm of the man who's been playing with his hair even now, feeling the warmth spread with the ache. words unsaid. just the steady beating of his heart, felt in the pulse running under his skin, in circling every mole he could find with his fingertips. he closed his eyes again, dissolving in his own senses.
“akagi-san..”
“mm?”
osamu felt a twist in his stomach
“it's getting late..”
sometimes he can't help but think about how one day he might never see him again, awake in an empty bed, empty room, world deprived of his presence. most often these thoughts visit him when he eats alone, mind wandering off to the worst case scenarios - how could it not, when the last time akagi returned home after his few-days disappearance, he passed out on a futon, slept for a day straight, worrying the boy sick, only for osamu to find his chest and shoulder bandaged and soaked with blood all over later. this man was a real piece of work, but his company has become something so familiar, so comforting. seeing him in the late evenings when the flame of his lighter made his features shine in it's warmth, hearing him chuckle over the stupidest things, or getting him to interact with strangers, only for this genius of a man to fail miserably at something that comes so easily to ordinary people like osamu himself. a life deprived of his whims, his warmth, or his laughter. he's never seen him laugh with their mutual acquaintances, and at this moment this thought made the knot in osamu's stomach coil into something vicious.
a world where akagi shigeru didn't exist.
his ordinary world without him.
he squeezes his hand a little too tightly.
“hmm,” akagi gently reciprocated the motion, “i'll need a smoke.”
“i'll go with you”
“i thought you didn't- “
“oh, no no, i'm just- i, well.. “
for a moment akagi stared at him like a cat startled by the light, but in a second his expression switched back to softness, a gentle smile in his eyes.
“okay.”
untangling their fingers, akagi carefully got up, trailing his hand over the short table to get his cigarettes, and moved towards the open shoji doors. osamu observed him briefly, but soon followed after his friend, who was already holding the lighter close to his face. osamu sat down beside him, pulling his knees up to his face and burying his nose in them, staring absently in the distance. it really is late, and the evening is getting darker, last smears of bright orange disappearing in the navy skies, to which osamu makes a connection on how right now the tiny light of the cigarette was aligning with the color of akagi's shirt. he huffed quietly. how poetic. osamu looked at his friend, dissolving into his own thoughts again, letting his mind adrift.
akagi tenderly closed his lips around the cigarette filter, taking a slow drag. after a second passed, he inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of the smoke fill his lungs, tingling at his throat slightly. akagi stretched out his legs, listening to the surrounding silence. with a soft pop the cigarette parted with his mouth, held carefully between the index and the middle finger, and akagi exhaled - just as slowly the smoke leaved his body, curling into beautiful patterns and mixing with the air around them. akagi hummed to himself, no worries about the upcoming mornings, days to come and go, people to meet or what he was going to eat at midday, none of that bothered him at that moment. his back ached slightly, so he shifted his weight on one of his arms, taking another sip of the warm smoke and closing his eyes for a bit. osamu is here. the evening is nice. this is all that matters.
akagi turned his head to look at his friend, who was currently gazing at him, specifically his cigarette, with an absent expression on his face. just to check, akagi slowly moved his hand back to his lips, watching the way osamu's eyes moved, following him, fixated on the action. he tried to understand what was wrong. it's wasn't really in character for osamu to be this.. distant, and the more he looked into his eyes the gloomier they seemed. before akagi could say anything, he was interrupted by the familiar voice.
“akagi-san.”
“yes?”
“have you changed the bandages today?”
“...”
“i thought so.” osamu sighed, and none of them were sure how to interpret this sound. it felt bitter, it kept the words unspoken, “i worry about you,” unuttered, “i care.”
“it doesn't hurt much anymore. i just forget it's there..” he made a light circular motion with his right hand, “a bit sore and all. it's nothing serious.”
“can we just do it now? i can help.”
akagi turned away, frowning. it wasn't something he couldn't do himself, in fact he would much rather prefer not exposing his wound to anyone, more than he already did. not that osamu hasn't seen it. or patched him up when he couldn't lift his hand properly. akagi really didn't like feeling dependent, but it also wasn't something he was ready to admit. wallowing in his discontent, he didn't even hear osamu standing up and brushing his hand over his shoulder.
“i'll get the cloth.. and some water.“
hmpf. whatever. he took a last long drag of smoke and put out his cigarette. in a moment he got up, closed the shoji doors, walked through the room and rested his weight on the side of their bed. with a sigh akagi started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping over the buttons and getting tangled in the folds of fabric. osamu walked in on him already dropping the piece of clothes off his shoulders, crumpling and tossing it aside. he looked up at osamu, who was holding a small bowl of water in one hand, and a cloth along with the bandages in the other. for a few seconds they just stared at each other, silence speaking louder than words. collecting himself, osamu put the water bowl on the side-table, sitting down next to akagi to help him unwrap his hurt shoulder. he looked at his own hands. it wasn't the first time they were doing this, but nevertheless osamu felt a tinge of guilt crawl up his spine.
sometimes he wished they weren't themselves, caught up in a world where he got hurt over meaningless gambles, always running away and always hiding.
in a better world they didn't have to treat his wounds, they didn't need to hide. in a better world osamu could tell him what he really thinks. what he really feels. but here they were just two men, inches away from each other, drowning in their self induced silence. osamu could still feel the smell of cigarettes in the room.
osamu gently unwrapped akagi's shoulder, careful not to hurt the healing skin, folding the dirty bandages in neat coils to throw them out later. the wound itself looked better than last time, marks from the stitches still reddened and the skin around the scar still swollen. osamu dipped the cloth into the water, squeezing it to get rid of the excess. carefully and softly, he pressed the fabric onto akagi's shoulder, slowly wiping it from the leftover dried out blood and whatever discharge the wound created.
akagi was restless. he didn't know where to put his hands, or if he was supposed to talk, or help osamu with anything. he was fidgeting in one place, picking at his nails and not lifting his eyes. it wasn't embarrassing to be taken care of like this, it's just that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, that's all. and his ears were probably too red already anyway, so the best he could do is sit still and let osamu patch him up properly. god, if only he knew what torture life has prepared for him he wouldn't have gone to that damn parlor. akagi felt a shiver each time osamu's hands brushed over his back accidentally, or when he left his palm on his forearm for too long. he thought about his hands a lot. they weren't soft nor slender as akagi's own hands were, instead they were bulky, warm, covered in hundreds of tiny freckles and far too gentle, even with all the calluses covering them. osamu was a hard worker and it showed. akagi would be lying if he said that his casual latching onto osamu's hands didn't make his heart beat faster. handholding in bed, tangling their fingers under tables, brushing over each other in the streets. his face felt hot.
“sorry, did it hurt?”
“no.” too abrupt. damn it.
osamu has also noticed how twitchy akagi has become, albeit thankful for the fact that this man was refusing to raise his head - osamu's own face was starting to flush too. something about this scene felt too intimate for both of them. the air was humid, and his skin too hot to the touch.
as osamu laid his hand on akagi's back, carefully caressing the healing wound, with only a fingertip he slowly trailed his spine down to the lower back. he was so scrawny, osamu could see his ribs peaking through the skin. he wasn't eating enough nor sleeping enough, it's like his diet consisted of only cigarettes and the occasional beers they got together in the evenings. akagi shivered and osamu felt a tinge of guilt crawl back at him. if only they could stay together for a little longer.. was he even allowed to think of this?
he placed the cloth back into the bowl, reaching for the clean bandages. they didn't have any ointment, so the best they could do is keep the scar clean, a simple task that akagi was failing far too often. osamu could feel his ears burn as he leaned in to wrap his hand around akagi's waist, stretching the bandage into place. too close.. he could smell the cigarettes in his hair.. and also see his nervous face from this angle. he rarely got to see akagi lose his composure this way, so perhaps the whole ordeal wasn't too bad. he stretched the fabric around and over his shoulder, tapping him on the arm so that he would lift it a little more, fixing the bandages neatly. this should do.
“not too tight? is this alright?”
akagi raised his arm, moved it around and lowered it again.
“it's good. thank you.” his voice got quieter. “..for the help.”
osamu was staring at his back, noting the droplets of water still left on the frail skin. softly wiping them with his thumb, his mind was once again getting overflown with the uneasiness he was so used to. he was so close, yet the closer they got, the harder it was for osamu to reach him. at an arms length the pit between them grew only further, straining osamu's feelings even more. he knew this wouldn't be the case for too long, any day now akagi could simply dissappear, stop answering the burner phone osamu got him and get lost for who knows how long, perhaps never to be seen again. it's not like this hasn't happened before. osamu glanced at his shoulder. things far worse could await him, and he couldn't manage to not forget even the simplest of chores, or just didn't care about himself enough to the point where this self-neglect became harmful. oh how he wished he could stay, he wished he could help, fill in the empty motel rooms and the meaningless afternoons, days after days spent straying around towns with no home, no place to call his own - he could be there, wait if needed, if only he could stay.
osamu didn't notice when his hands were already softly holding onto akagi's shoulders. for the longest moment, while he was still coming back to his senses, he shifted his weight to slowly lean in, closer to his back, closer to his body. osamu lowered his head, just above the prominent vertebra adorning his friend's back. his shoulder blades were sticking out uncomfortably, and his spine was visibly curved to an unhealthy extent - the scrawny build as a whole was a sight that left him feeling uneasy.
in a haze of his own thoughts, osamu once again didn't notice how his face was already snuggled into the back of akagi's neck, his cheek softly pressed against the flushed skin, through which he could feel his heartbeat getting faster. or was it osamu's own heart wanting itself out? the scent of cigarettes in the air was starting to feel suffocating, and right now osamu thought that he really didn't mind if it's what he had to endure for the rest of his life. he wrapped his arms around his chest, nuzzling even closer.
akagi froze, feeling the warm breathing at the back of his neck, the strong arms holding him tightly - confusion weighted on him with intensity, but once he heard a soft muffled sniffle come out close to his ear something within him shifted, tugging on his insides. his stomach felt heavy when osamu tightened his grip and buried his face into the crook of his shoulder. something was very wrong, the sudden shift in the mood far too apparent even for him. it wasn't that osamu was usually this touchy, perhaps during the especially emotional moments only, so the unforseen clingyness was confusing akagi even more.
he hesitated, slowly hovering his hand over osamu's arm that was currently holding him tightly. carefully, he touched him, tenderly caressing the skin of his forearm with a thumb, staring off at the floor. something inside of his mind was telling him that it was better not to ask osamu about what was happening now.
akagi let the moment linger.
the embrace was warm. osamu's soft breathing interrupted by his sobs was the only thing that disrupted the steady beating of their hearts, too loud for the small of their apartment. holding each other in a way that transcended the physical, bodies merging together in the silent hug, speaking without uttering a word. akagi tried to remain calm, steadying his breath, guiding osamu to do the same. what even could he say now? no words coming from the cause of this would be appropriate.
he gently pet osamu's hand once more.
the sobs came to an end, being muffled by the stillness of the air, when akagi heard a quiet voice call out to him again.
“akagi-san…”
“yes?”
“...”
osamu loosened his hold, letting his hands slide down and his forehead fall softly on akagi's healthy shoulder. he took a deep breath, words coming out even quieter than before.
“do you think we could go out for some takoyaki tomorrow?”
“...of course.”
osamu hummed with content. he gently nudged akagi, to which he, after a moment of hesitation carefully tilted his own head to the side, resting his temple on top of osamu's.
none of them knew how much time had passed, with only the muffled sounds of cicadas outside accompanying their solitude. thoughts left unsaid, sinking deeper into the night.
the evening lapsed into a wordless quiet, and not a word more was spoken after.