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"That bastard," Akutagawa spat out, a glass of whiskey in his hands, grabbing it tightly.
Atsushi shared the sentiment, after all they've been here for 30 minutes for their briefer that was supposed to give them information on their next mission.
The club they were in was bustling with people. There were lights on the floor, shining up on the walls. Vibrant and hypnotic. Occasionally, new pumps of fog will fill up the room. Making it harder to see if their briefer was here or not.
Atsushi gave a short glance to his drink on the table. They both were sitting on a velvet sofa, a low LED-lit table right in front of them and over that was another velvet sofa. Their briefer was supposed to be lounging in. Giving them information so they could already go and Atsushi wouldn't have to stay here any longer with an Akutagawa that's dressed up. Looking...handsome.
He wore a black button up shirt and white slacks. And of course Rashomon. He didn't have that frilly thing on his neck, a jabot was it? Either way, he looked amazing. His hair was raked back and held in place, two stark white-tipped strands remained free, tracing the sharp line of his jaw.
Atsushi gulped, and brought his hand to tug on the high neck of his white turtleneck. He didn't look..that nice.... compared to Akutagawa, but clearly the people in the club didn't think that. As he got many stares from passersby and partygoers. It made him pretty self-conscious, always putting that one overly long bang of his behind his ear.
It kept going back to obstruct his eyesight and he put it back numerous times, before Akutagawa snapped and said to leave it before he sliced off his fingers. Atsushi was about to argue back and go into their regular rude bantering. Before he made direct eye contact with Akutagawa for over 3 seconds. He felt red on his face and throughout his body as he brought his gaze to his hands that were now finding comfort on his knees. His mouth now kept shut.
He really needed their briefer to hurry up before he made a fool out of himself.
Their bottle girl came to refill Akutagawa's glass, giving a questioning look to Atsushi's. Right. He hasn't taken a sip, once out his own glass of sake.
He reminded himself of Kunikida-san's warning to not get drunk when you're on the clock. He wasn't even allowed to drink. He wasn't even 20 yet. But the bouncers seemed to have no problem when Akutagawa nodded to them and they let them both in the club.
Causal Port Mafia things.
A shy, chuckle behind them brought their attention to the source. A good-looking guy, around 20s? walked up to the sofa in front them, sitting while putting a black briefcase on their table.
Atsushi quickly grabbed his glass before the briefcase tipped it over.
"That's cute, were you guys waiting for me? Sorry about that." The man said, looking straight at Atsushi, ignoring Akutagawa beside him who was getting annoyed by the second.
Atsushi gave a small smile, "It's ok, let's get started."
"Alright, I’m Boyne Shoto. One of the specialist debriefer's in the special division." He started, signalling their bottle girl to fill his glass with sake. "Our dear Murakoso-kun gave us intel on a new ability user that's unidentified. And we want you two to find out who it is, and what's their ability so we can put it in the database or see if they are a threat."
Akutagawa crossed his arms, "Fuck does the Port Mafia has to do with any of this?"
Boyne-san grimaced as he slid his gaze back to Atsushi, "You have to deal with this? Listen hellhound I don't know why Ango-san asked your boss to bring you here as well. I'm just here to give info." He put his hands behind his head, leaning back.
One tendril struck forward, clasping around Boyne-san's neck. Choking him. "Info that took 30 minutes to get, we could have already been out looking for the user."
"Akutagawa!" Atsushi stood up, the tendril going back to his coat. Atsushi gave a worried frown, as he carefully touched the bruising on the man's neck. He was surprised when Boyne-san didn't make a sound and kept a face of indifference the entire time. Must be what the division trained him to do.
"Don't worry kitty, I'm fine." Boyne-san stood up, opening the briefcase and tossing a file on the table. He gave a smirk and walked off as Atsushi kept opening and closing his mouth. Blushing at the nickname.
He was not a cat! He was a tiger!
Akutagawa grabbed the file and started walking towards the exit of the club. Putting the money on the table.
Atsushi stood there for a couple of moments before the bottle girl came up again, giggling. "Don't worry, honey. We see guys get jealous like that all the time. He just needs to know you're his, right?"
Atsushi froze, his face still red. "We're not dating."
She had a look of horror over her face before she bowed down quickly. "Oh! I'm so sorry!"
Atsushi waved his hands before him, "It's ok! It's ok! Thanks for your service!"
The girl brought the tray to her face, her eyes glazed over. "Thanks..." She went back to another table.
Atsushi started chasing after Akutagawa, who was already out the door. As he navigates through the crowds of people dancing. His brain is replaying the girl's words. Suddenly getting hot.
Atsushi grimaced, now stepping out of the club. The music is now muffled thumping behind them. Akutagawa right beside him. His hands in his coat's pocket. Atsushi looked up and felt the first drop of rain land on his face.
The silence is heavier than the club's bass. He wonders if Akutagawa heard what she said..
"I don't care what they think, and I care even less what you think. Wipe that look off your face and get in the car. We have a mission, and I’ve already wasted enough time." He spat out walking away.
So he did hear. The rain felt colder now that the blush went away. His gaze still set to the clouds. He closed his eyes. Why was he acting a fool for a man who didn’t even see him as a person? Just someone that he has to put up with for the line of work.
Atsushi let the lock of hair slip from behind his ear. It felt cold against his chin.
Atsushi hears Akutagawa’s voice again, “Are you coming?”
Atsushi nodded, even if he thought Akutagwa wasn’’t looking at him. He put his gaze on the ground as he started walking towards Akutagawa.
Atsushi’s legs felt like lead, the weight of the night finally catching up to him, and before he could think, he reached out.
He put his hands around his neck as he wrapped his legs around Akutagawa’s waist. Akutagawa grabbed behind his knees and started walking back to the Agency, carrying him.
The rain turns the streetlights into blurry halos, and the sudden weight of Atsushi on his back makes Akutagawa almost stumble half a step before his shoes find their grip on the slick pavement.
Akutagawa’s eyes were fixed on the grey street ahead, as Atsushi’s arms locked around his neck. The only sign of his anger or annoyance was the slow rhythmic clenching of his jaw.
"What are you doing, Jinko?" Akutagawa's voice is a low, dangerous rasp, yet his hand still stays instinctively under Atsushi's knees. Locking him into place with a grip that feels far more secure than it is aggressive.
Atsushi doesn't answer. He just buries his face into his neck. The scent of expensive cologne, sharp whiskey and blood fills his senses. It's overwhelming, but it's better than the cold.
"I'm tired." Atsushi whispers, the words muffled against the coat. "Just walk."
Akutagawa stiffens. He should throw him off. That's what Atsushi is suspecting.
"You are a pathetic Jinko." Akutagwa spits, but he doesn't let go. He begins to walk, his pace steady and rhythmic.
The vibration of Akutagwa's footsteps travels through both their bodies. For Atsushi, it feels hypnotic. He feels everything start to melt into a dull, heavy ache.
"You don't have to do it, you know," Atsushi says suddenly, his voice clearer now, cutting through the sound of the downpour.
"Pretend you hate me every single second. It’s exhausting just watching you do it. We’re out of the club. No one is looking."
Atsushi adds a whiser, almost too quiet. He was sure Akutagawa wouldn't hear. "...It...hurts too."
He didn't love Akutagawa. Love was for people in movies that he and Kyouka would watch. People who weren’t tied down to their abilities. Or the blood on their hands.
It was supposed to be light, like the bubbles in a soda or the blush on the girl’s face. Someone who wishes and seeks out love.
But as he heard the rain splatter on the ground. Atsushi realized that the world lied about love. That the stories he read in the orphanage lied. It wasn't nice. It was cruel.
It was something that tied you down. Choked you down. Make sure you notice every single thing about the person. Noticing the every flicker of emotion on their face to memorizing the beats and order that their heart beats.
Love makes you worship a person's flaws. All their red flags.
It made him want to spend nights awake, thinking about the person and realizing that you're not good enough to be loved back. That you were cursed the moment you were born, to have your mind play tricks on you.
There was never a choice. There was no warmth in the way Akutagawa's back provided heat into his chest, or the way his own arms felt like ice against the other man's neck. It was just fate. A broken person, a burden will always cling to the first person that treats them the way they're used to.
Because letting go means skinking alone to your own mind. Alone. Atsushi hated being alone. He was terrified to be alone.
He didn't love the man carrying him. He probably hated him. But in the hollow, silence of Yokohama, that hatred was the only thing that felt right. Like chazuke. He always loved chazuke. Even if it wasn't the most sustainable food after starving. It felt like survival. He would clearly consume everyone's love for the validation he needed. For him to know that he actually deserved the love back.
Akutagawa's grip on Atsushi's leg tightens. As he uses rashomon as an umbrella, protecting them from the rain. "I do not pretend, Jinko. My disdain for you is the only thing I offer you."
"Then why are you still carrying me?"
The question hangs in the air, heavier than the briefcase Boyne-san left behind. Akutagawa’s chest heaves in a sharp, silent breath, a cough hitching in his throat that he forces down.
Atsushi closes his eyes, letting the rhythmic motion of the walk lull him. He feels small, tucked against the back of one of the most dangerous men in Yokohama, drifting in a state of melancholy.
"Your hair is getting ruined," Atsushi murmurs sleepily, his grip around Akutagawa’s neck loosening as his muscles relax.
"Silence," Akutagawa snaps, though his tone lacks its usual bite. "Or I drop you in the gutter."
But he hitches Atsushi a little higher on his back instead, shielding the boy’s front from the wind with his own body as they disappear into the grey veil of the storm.