Work Text:
Akutagawa was just about ready to quit his job as a barista, he had been ready to do so for well over 20 years. Unfortunately for him, the perpetually 22 year old had inherited the small corner cafe from his mentor, and at this point he saw no way out from the incredibly quaint life the coffee shop offered.
The rigid sound of an analog alarm clock shocked Akutagawa out of his peaceful slumber, forcing him to roll over on the too-soft twin mattress and blindly reach a hand out to slap the plastic buttons of the alarm clock until the thing stopped screaming and repetitively flashing 5:30. Akutagawa hated waking up to alarms, there was no feeling worse than abruptly being woken from slumber, especially for him, who would toss and turn until late into the night, just to wake up to open the cafe on time. With a drawn out sigh, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, running through his tasks for the day as he reluctantly rose from the mattress. The floor tiling was shockingly frigid beneath him, though he hardly felt the bite of cold as he shuffled along to his small but functional bathroom. Passing the mirror was always disorienting, no matter how many times Akutagawa saw it, he could never catch a glimpse of the face that he used to see staring back at him. Gone was the mirrored image of a man with sunken, tired eyes, hollow cheekbones and palor skin. If he reached a hand up and tugged down the thin strands of hair on his forehead, he could catch a glimpse of black and the stubbornly discolored white ends, though it didn’t give away much in terms of appearance. The only thing Akutagawa could see was the poorly painted wall behind him, with a poem that he had ripped out of a paper copy and hung, just to avoid the empty feeling that plain white wall evoked. Akutagawa bit his tongue, forced himself to look away and brush his teeth, and silently fumed that he hadn’t said anything when the overly- friendly handyman had insisted on installing it.
Upstairs didn’t look any less than the downstairs of the cafe where Akutagawa lived, in his opinion. Some of the furniture was mismatched, as a result of many second-hand store finds and repairs that he begrudgingly made himself. Locking the downstairs door behind him, and tying the brown, coffee-stained apron that he usually wore to work. The ground floor smelled familiarly of aromatic tea spices and sugar, from years of kettle-brewed drinks and melting caramel that had baked into every corner of the small kitchen area where he prepared drink orders, placed on the back wall and readily facing the entry door. Slightly to the left of the counter led the hallway to the customer bathroom, and the second door adjacent to it where Akutagawa secretly slept. Along the 3 outer walls were an even array of windows, shuttered by blinds, that Akutagawa had to open before unlocking the entry door. Thankfully for Akutagawa, in a tan-fearing society such as Japan, asking to install UV-protected windows was the status-quo, rather than an extra ask from Akutagawa, which was pleasant, especially considering how much he hated pleasantries. Rolling up each curtain blanketed the hardwood floors with a golden glow, and revealing the dust modes that flecked through the air, making the cramped space seem less small and more homey. Finally, he checked up on the worn corkboard, riddled with holes from many years of poorly tacked up children drawings and thank you notes. Akutagawa hadn’t meant for the small doodles to mean a lot, especially since its origin was neither an idea of his own, nor one that he had been particularly enthused about. A middle schooler in the neighborhood came over frequently just to sit by the window and draw cows, while happily sipping matcha that was more foam than drink. Once he left high school to study agriculture, he insisted on hanging up the corkboard and leaving one of his rudimentary drawings on it. As stupidly sentimental as it was, Akutagawa couldn’t bring himself to take it down, and now it was far too late to do so, considering that the light tan wall paint had bleached around it.
Finally, as he watched the clock hung on the wall above the counter flick past 6:00 Akutagawa unlocked the front door and flipped the sign from the inside before retreating back to the relative shade and safety of the food counter. He had learned the hard way that hanging around the door could lead to a nasty burn if a customer walked in and caught him off guard. Since nobody arrived this early, Akutagawa took a moment to check on the pastries that he had gotten delivered each night, removing them from their storage box underneath the counter and setting each inside of the heated display case that turned towards the customers, wafting the smell of warmed confections throughout the area. This was the part of working at the cafe that Akutagawa didn’t mind, relatively peace-filled, slow mornings where he could heat his own tea in the kettle and sip quietly while looking over whatever new book or article he had found to read. Akutagawa liked routine, which was why it was incredibly jarring when a new character stepped into his store at 6:05 on the dot.
“Hey, sorry, are you open? I checked your website and it said it opens at 6,”
A slightly awkward young man walked into the cafe, fumbling into his jacket pocket to find his phone- an old flip model that Akutagawa hadn’t seen since the 90’s.
“Yeah, okay. You guys are open.”
He added, a relieved brightness returning to his voice, letting him relax somewhat and finally stop fumbling around like a fool. Akutagawa studied the man, unimpressed, before gesturing to the stack of laminated menus that sat next to him on the counter. The stranger approached and took a menu, finally allowing Akutagawa to get a good look at him. The other man was lanky, which was exasperated by the fact that all of his clothing looked about a size too big for him. His hair was a shocking white colour, with choppy bangs that skirted from his forehead to the side of his face which stood out starkly against his tanned skin. His eyes were a unique shade of vibrant purple, and flecks of yellow-gold were sprinkled in the irises as if splattered on like paint. Similarly scattered along his face were barely–there freckles that traveled along his cheeks, forehead, and chin. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder haphazardly, clearly well used and half-zipped, revealing notebooks and a stickered laptop peeking through the worn fabric. He also donned a dog tag necklace, and Akutagawa began to ponder what was etched into the surface. He was snapped out of his thoughts quickly though, when the white haired man spoke up again, glancing up from the menu.
“What drink do you recommend? Everything looks really good, but I guess you’d know the most about it since you work here.”
Akutagawa looked down at a copy of the menu, then back up at him.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Well, are you planning on ordering a pastry?
“I guess I was looking at the coconut tarts.”
“In that case, then you should get matcha, or green tea.”
The white haired man tilted his head, clearly intrigued.
“Why’s that?”
“They pair well together. Coconut tarts are sweet, so a more earthy flavour balances it out well.”
“Oh! Okay, I’ll try that then. Can I order?”
Akutagawa nodded, heading over to the register to check him out.
“I’ll get an iced matcha latte with coconut milk, and a coconut tart.”
“Okay, that’ll be 2100 yen.”
“Woah really? That’s super cheap for breakfast. Are you sure? Actually, nevermind, stupid question.”
He pulled out a wad of yen bills from his wallet, partially crumpled, but fine. He apologetically smoothed out the bills on the counter. The ID card at the front of the wallet gave Akutagawa his name: Atsushi Nakajima. It seemed fitting for the stranger in front of him, who seemed to radiate his own kind of blissfully ignorant joy. Akutagawa took the bills and punched them into the register, moving to the sink to wash his hands of whatever germs were on the bill, and whatever dust had collected on them from opening up the blinds that had stubbornly clung to his hands. After rinsing and drying his hands off, he grabbed his chasen and matching wooden bowl to start on the drink. Just as he had portioned out the powder, Akutagawa was startled by the grating sound of a stool being pulled across hardwood.
“Sorry! Sorry, is it okay if I watch?”
“Do what you want.”
Atsushi seemed to take that as an invitation, picking up the stool to carry it quietly and watch Akutagawa froth the matcha in the bowl. Akugawa tried to ignore him as he sifted through the powder gently, before pouring out the now warmed water from the kettle. When he had started out, he was careful to measure each tablespoon of the water, nowadays, measuring out portions with his eyes was as simple as walking.
“My name is Atsushi, by the way,”
“Noted.”
“I’ve been in this area for a while, actually. I started walking this route because I just enrolled in college and I have to take the bus.”
“Are you a Junior? Senior?”
“Nah, I’m a freshman. I know, it’s kind of embarrassing, but I didn’t have the money saved for higher education til’ now.”
“Major?”
“Humanitary studies.”
Akutagawa gave him a look, pausing in the task of frothing the matcha.
“I want to help people! In any way I can. I used to volunteer at the fire station just to feel like I was doing some kind of net good, I know it's lame.”
“I didn’t say anything about lame.”
“You looked really judgy.”
Atsushi accused, tracing his fingernail along the woodgrain of the counter absently.
“I get that a lot.”
Atsushi laughed, settling his elbows onto the counter. He laughed a lot differently than Akutagawa thought he would. He’d expected a loud, boisterous cackle, but it was a lot more subdued, as if he were scared of expressing himself too much. Akutagawa appreciated that about him at least, he hated excessive noise. Once the matcha had been mixed into a nice foam, Akutagawa found a glass and poured coconut milk about a fourth of the way up, sweetener, and then the matcha poured carefully on top. The ice was added, and drizzled on top to make the drink look pleasant was a bit of condensed milk and a pinch of matcha powder. Akutagawa placed the drink in front of him first, before grabbing the tongs and parchment paper to place the coconut tart in.
“Woah! This drink looks really good.”
Atsushi exclaimed, pulling out his small flip phone to take a picture of his meal, an odd habit but not uncommon.
“How long have you been working here?”
Akutagawa simply shrugged, there was no good way to explain that he had been working there for a bit over 20 years, knowing that he himself hardly looked past that age.
“I own this place, it was gifted to me by a friend.”
“That’s super cool? Are you thinking about hiring?”
“Are you looking for a job?”
Akutagawa asked suspiciously, working on washing the bowl and chasen as Atsushi sipped his drink.
“No! No. I have one already, and my schedule is pretty full. I was just wondering if you worked here yourself.”
“Everything runs fine with me on my own. I prefer it this way.”
Atsushi nodded, checking the time on his watch, it was a bit past 6:20, which felt egregious to Akutagawa, who felt like the conversation had been dragging on for at least half an hour.
“Well, I’m gonna go, my bus gets here at 6:30.”
“The station isn't even a 3 minute walk away.”
Akutagawa scowled, wiping his hands off on his apron.
“Early bird gets the worm and all, See you tomorrow. Akutagawa!”
Atsushi finished off the coconut pastry in one mildly impressive bite and shoved his phone back into his pocket, waving goodbye as he left through the door.
“You forgot your drink-”
Akutagawa looked back down at the glass that had somehow been completely drained between the brief lulls in the conversation.
“... Did he even taste it?”
.ೃ࿐
The following day was a Tuesday, which always brought Akutagawa some mild annoyance because whoever delivered his mail always left it outside, rather than putting it into the mail slot that would actually allow him to grab the paper before the sun set that day. Regardless, Akutagawa still got up and began setting up shop. It was all routine, locking the door downstairs, opening up the blinds, setting out the pastries for the day, and waiting. The absence of something to do was a bit more jarring than Akutagawa remembered it being, so to fill the void of being idle, Akutagawa scrounged up an unlit candle from the shelving and lit it over the gas burner, because he thought he would never have a use for matches or lighters until a problem arose. It smelled vaguely cinnamon and clove-like, which was pleasant enough for Akutagawa to keep it lit and set it back down on the wall shelf.
Just as Akutagawa had done so, like clockwork, the front door opened and Atsushi walked in, same half-open backpack, same flip phone in hand, different clothes, thankfully, holding a bundle of newspapers in one hand.
“Hey Akutagawa!”
“That’s awfully familiar of you.”
“I saw your mail outside so I brought it in for you, hope that's okay.”
Akutagawa looked at the paper in his hand then back at Atsushi, simultaneously surprised but not really shocked that he had gone out of his way to do something as trivial as pick up mail.
“You can put it on any table.”
Atsushi looked around and found a 2 seater table with a stool missing, placing the mail on the tabletop, before his eyes widened in realisation.
“Oh crap, I never moved the stool back! I’m sorry, I should've been more thoughtful.”
“It’s fine. I left it there purposefully. There was no point in dragging it across the floor every time you wanted to chat.”
“You guessed I’d come back?”
Atsushi questioned, picking up a menu and bringing it over to his now-designated stool to peruse.
“You did say see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah! I did say that.”
Atsushi’s eye flitted over to the lit candle.
“That’s new. Do you collect candles?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then what do you do in your free time?”
Akutagawa opened his mouth to respond, but quickly found that he had nothing to answer with. That troubled him, so instead of answering, he went right back to being standoffish.
“Are you going to order?”
Atsushi looked up at Akutagawa with a raised brow, but didn’t comment further as his finger scanned the menu, which he brought uncomfortably close to his face.
“I think I’ll get the chai latte this time, the candle reminded me of it! What pastry goes well with that?”
Akutagawa scanned the pastries on the rack, he hadn’t ordered any cinnamon rolls for the day, those would be best, but there were always other options.
“Lemon cake.”
“Sounds good.”
Akutagawa began ringing up his order, exchanging the yen bills for the receipt, though a question in the back of his mind prickled with mild annoyance.
“Why do you squint when you read the menu?”
“I think I need glasses, but they’re way too expensive for me right now. It’s only for things up close so it’s not that big of a deal.”
“...Right.”
Akutgawa turned to the stove to put some water to boil, and set out two tea bags for steeping.
“Is Akutagawa your family name?”
“Yes, it is.”
“What’s your given name?”
“Why do you need to know?”
Akutagawa frowned, pausing in his task of collecting all the spices from the cabinet.
“Just curious, you don’t have to look so frightening.”
“And you don’t have to be so aggravating, were you born annoying or did your parents not raise you properly?”
Atsushi watched him with a partly confused and partly amused look, which only served to irritate Akutagawa more.
“I guess the latter.”
He replied with a bit too much mirth, picking at his nailbed. His hands were calloused, though it didn’t seem like he played sports or anything similar, and his fingernails were bitten almost raw, with the surrounding cuticles meeting the same, unfortunate fate. A gross habit, but one that Akutagawa couldn’t condemn, especially since he had only abandoned doing so a few years ago.
The water had now started bubbling on the stove, and the tablespoons of spices that had been roasting on the other pan began off putting a nice aromatic smell, mixing with the candle’s scent. Atsushi had gone quiet after their little back and forth, so Akutagawa went back to making the drink. Whole milk was poured over the spices, and the boiled water was used to steep both teabags, making a pleasant black tea to be mixed all together. The spiced milk and tea was mixed together in a ceramic mug with brown sugar, and slid in front of Atsushi, then the slice of lemon cake. Atsushi took out his phone to take a picture yet again.
“Why do you do that?”
“Take pictures? I like food. I just like to have little keepsakes when I have something yummy. I didn’t grow up with much, so small things like this make me happy.
“You’re an incredibly simple person.”
Atsushi laughed. Akutagawa hadn’t noticed before that a few of Atsushi’s eyelashes were the same shade of white as his hair, or that he had a little snaggletooth on the right of his smile, poking out from under his upper lip. He looked away quickly before he noticed more things about Atsushi.
“Maybe, but I like being normal. Do you not?”
Akutagawa paused on this for a while, thinking about his imagined image in the mirror. His too-short bangs, pale skin, odd hair. Eyes that looked like they had seen everything and nothing all at once. Even the parts he tried to ignore, the fangs that now poked into his tongue when he brushed his teeth, the constant chill that he felt under his skin, the aversion to sunlight that reached far past not wanting to tan.
“I think I’d like to be normal, but I’ve separated myself far from normality, I can’t imagine being just a regular person.”
“I get that. I grew up in an orphanage, I didn’t really have a lot of “normal” things that other kids my age did. ”
Atsushi shrugged, already starting to tear into the poor lemon cake, now that the tea was halfway done. Akutagawa mentally tsked when he realized that his short quip earlier may have hit too close to home, looking up at the clock above the entrance to avoid meeting his eye.
“It’s 6:24.”
“Hm?”
Atsushi followed his gaze, mouth half full and slid off of the stool, readjusting his backpack, which was half open on his back.
“Thanks for letting me know, I’m off.”
The white-haired man picked up the mug to finish off the last of his drink and set down the glass.
“Atsushi.”
“Yeah?”
“Your backpack is unzipped.”
Atsushi looked back with a sigh, swinging the backpack off of his shoulder and zipping it up reluctantly.
“Hm, that’s funny. I think that’s the first time you’ve used my name. You’re getting soft.”
Frustratingly enough, Akutagawa couldn't argue, so he looked away back at the clock again
“6:26.”
“Okay! I get it, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow Akutagawa!”
Akutagawa didn’t reply, but after Atsushi left he walked over to the newspaper that had been left on the table, warmed from sitting under the light of the sun. Akutagawa soaked in that warmth and the scent of cinnamon-clove candle for a long time, trying to settle the gnawing in his stomach. He felt a lot colder now, which probably meant he was hungry again. The most unfortunate part of being alive was the constant need for something. Company, comfort, food, water, or in Akutagawa’s case, blood.
.ೃ࿐
The loud blaring of Akutagawa’s alarm clock jolted him awake again, though waking up today was significantly worse than it had been any of the prior days. The noisy alarm was now piercing in tone, grating against Akutagawa's nerves. Moving his arm to take off the alarm clock felt like a herculean task, every limb felt lead-heavy and cold. Akutagawa couldn’t imagine leaving the comfort of his blanket to generate his own heat while walking around the cafe. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to look for something to eat until the sun fell again, and that was a good 10 hours away. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and fumbled around the top of the alarm clock until it shut off. He shuffled to the bathroom, staring at the poem behind him in the mirror with disdain, it’s not like he could see what he looked like, and even if he could Akutagawa was sure he wouldn’t like what he saw. Akutagawa hurried through his morning routine as quickly as he could, and climbed up the stairs to open the cafe. Drawing open the curtains brought a harsh, sharp light onto Akutagawa’s eyes, leaving him disoriented and even more annoyed than he had been when he woke. Finally, he reached the front door, scowl deepening when he caught a glimpse of white hair and locked his dark eyes with purple-gold irises. Atsushi waved, and Akutagawa reluctantly opened the door, making sure to step out of the way of the morning light.
“Good Morning Akutagawa!”
Atsushi chirped, walking into the cafe, notably without his backpack on. Once Akutagawa closed the door and got the chance to take in Atsushi’s appearance, he noticed a lot more discrepancies, like how his usually choppy layers were unbrushed and messy, and his outfit, which usually consisted shirts and jeans underneath a jacket, a necklace or two tossed overtop, the same metal tiger engraved on a dog tag.
“Do you not have any classes today?”
“Nope, how’d you guess?”
“You’re not wearing your backpack.”
Atsushi blinked as if he had hardly noticed that fact himself.
“Yeah, just means I have more time to hang around here with you!”
Akutagawa groaned internally, he was already exhausted, cold, and insanely irritated. He most certainly did not need an hour of sit down chatter. He should decline.
“... Fine. What do you want to order?”
Atsushi looked over the selection of pastries, his gaze fixing onto a pale purple pastry in the display case that was the same hue as his eyes.
“Macarons?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty. What drink do you recommend?”
Akutagawa thought this over, eyes meeting Atsushi’s for a beat too long, making his already sluggish heart skip a beat. He looked away quickly, grabbing the tongs and prying open the display case to set aside a few of the macarons and slid it over to Atsushi.
“Cornflower tea. It’s a similar colour, and adds to the floral note of the Lavender Macarons.”
Atsushi had settled into his designated stool, watching Akutagawa grab a store pack of fig newtons from a cabinet below. He sat leaned forward, with an elbow resting on the counter casually, head tilted and settled on his palm.
“Sounds great. What are you grabbing there?”
“My breakfast.”
“I thought you didn’t eat breakfast.”
“I do, but only when I’m hungry.”
A half truth. Akutagawa did eat when he was hungry, not just for food or blood but just for the feeling of being alive. Eating was a privilege of the living afterall, and if nothing else Akutagawa wanted to pretend like he was a little more than a corpse that still breathed and walked amongst other people.
“Well, it’s nice. I think eating is one of those things that we all have in common. It’s one of my favorite parts about being alive.”
The sentiment was welcome, surprisingly enough. Akutagawa mulled it over silently as the kettle boiled. The cornflower tea sat high up on the shelf, since rarely anyone ordered the drink. Akutagawa had to tip toe to reach the container that held the blueish tea mix. A table spoon of the mix was dumped into the same white ceramic mug that he had used the last time.
The water boiled and the mix was steeped, the sugar and cream bloomed into the purple tea, mixing into a misty lavender. He passed off the warm mug and Atsushi took it thankfully, wrapping his hands around the cup and sipping. Akutagawa set aside his own tea – a peony pink blend that admittedly contrasted with the persona he donned. Set out in front of Atsushi was the macarons, but notably he hadn’t razed the platter yet.
“Why haven’t you started eating?”
Akutagawa asked suspiciously, still stirring the water in his mug
“I’m waiting on you? I thought we would eat together.”
“Fine. Not at the counter though.”
Atsushi lit up, picked up his meal, and all but skipped to the two-seater table where he had set the newspaper down the day prior. Akutagawa huffed at his eagerness, and once his drink was done steeping, he sat down as well, under the warmed light through the window, legs almost bumping into the man across from him. His plate was simple, a handful of fig newtons on a plate, pink tea still spinning in the cup. Atsushi, now that they had both been seated, started tucking into his Macarons, the pastries disappearing in rapid succession. Akutgawa sat still, too petrified to eat, eyes fixed on the table, avoiding eye contact like it would burn him. It didn’t burn, that was the frightening thing, when Atsushi finally looked up and their gaze met across the faux-wood surface. Instead it felt warm, as warm as sunlight through the window, a nice pot of tea when it’s cold, a scented candle when it was stagnant, another drawing tacked onto the corkboard in the corner, the moments steeped in joy that came with being alive. Akutagawa took a bite of a fig newton, chewing slowly under the watch of Atsushi.
“How is it?”
Atsushi questioned, lips pressed against his mug. Akutagawa swallowed, then lifted the mug to his mouth, taking a short sip.
“It’s good.”
“Hey, would you like to… I don’t know, walk to the park with me sometime? We could do a picnic?”
Akutagawa choked on his drink, spluttering in disbelief and shock, scooting himself away from the table, in a feeble attempt to hide. Atsushi rose to help, but finding no way to meaningfully assist him, just ended up patting his back awkwardly.
“Is that a yes?”
He asked hopefully.
“I have a… skin condition. Can’t go out into the sun without flaring up.”
Atsushi looked crestfallen for a bit, but quickly perked up when he didn’t hear a definite ‘no’.”
“That sucks, I knew a girl who had psoriasis, she’d get a bunch of rashes if she went out in the sun for like, ten minutes.”
Akutagawa coughed a few more times, finally clearing his airway before sitting still. Still doubled over, but now just focusing on his breathing. In, out.
“You don’t want to date me.”
He finally spoke, gaze fixed firmly on the hardwood floor. His leg bounced uncontrollably, it was an awful habit, one that Akutagawa thought he had smoothed over. It made him look as anxious as he felt. In, out. Atsushi’s palm was warm against his back, the feeling both soothing and spine crawling.
“I don’t really care if you’re a vampire-”
Akutagawa snapped back upright so quickly that Atsushi startled back, retracting his hand as if burned before shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Sorry… you know, because you can’t go out in the sun. It was a joke. In really poor taste and I know that now, I’m sorry.”
Akuatagawa gritted his teeth, feeling a sharp bite as one of his fangs pierced the inside of his lip.
“Get out.”
“I haven’t even paid yet-”
“Just leave. I don’t have the energy for you Atsushi.”
Atsushi took another slow step back, and Akutagawa returned to pressing his forehead against the table to soothe the headache that was now creeping in. As Atsushi left he saw him biting his thumbnail on the way out.
“I don’t understand you.”
Akutagawa muttered to the glass across from him that Atsushi had been drinking out of. As he glared he noticed the faint imprint of his chapstick that had transferred onto the cup. Akuatagwa resisted the urge to hurl the cup against the wall.
.ೃ࿐
Now that the sun had set Akutagawa could only toss and turn in bed. The headache from earlier still hadn’t ebbed, and infuriatingly, the only thing he could think about was Atsushi. Atsushi had a habit of picking at his nails when he was nervous, that meant he was anxious when he left. He had been so excited to eat a meal with Aktagawa he had forgotten his usual food picture. That stupid tinted chapstick mark that had been left on the glasses rim. Akutagawa never thought about his lips before but now it was almost constant. A maddening circle of insanity that could easily track on forever. He didn’t notice that he wore lip balm before, but now he wondered; what brand was it? Were his lips usually chapped? Was it flavoured?
“This is idiotic.”
Akutagawa hissed aloud, pulling his pillow over his head. He couldn’t even find it in himself to wash his glass after the shop had closed, and it was just about haunting him in the sink. Akutagawa sat up with a finality, pulling on his slippers and grabbing his coat from its rack to protect against the cold night air. He was going to wash that damned glass and get a good night’s rest. He marched up the stairs, pulled the key from his pocket, opened the door- and just about fell down the stairs again, because there Atsushi was- standing outside the glass doorway, looking just as surprised as Akutagawa did. The white-haired boy straightened, smiling and waving awkwardly. He had cleaned up somewhat, donning a button-up over a white t-shirt with some kind of decal printed over it, jeans and a pair of simple sneakers. In his arm, there was a basket with a blanket folded over top. Akutagawa sighed, making sure the frustration was clear on his face as he deliberately picked through his keys one by one, before opening the door.
Atsushi’s expression lit up when Akutagawa finally pushed open the door, undeterred by Akutagawa’s dour expression.
“Hi. I figured I would just knock. I didn’t expect you to be…”
“Walking around? In my own house?”
“Now that you say it like that, it sounds really creepy.”
“It is really creepy.”
Atsushi chuckled apologetically, reaching into the basket and producing a small bouquet of peonies mixed in with another milky white flower that he couldn’t place.The peonies at least were out of season this time of year, so they must have cost more than usual.
“Sorry. I hope these will make up for it?” Atsushi said softly, bowing apologetically
Akutagawa was stunned into silence. The flowers were beautiful, which felt nicer than Akutagawa would ever actually admit. He thought he had grown past simplicities like going on dates, getting flowers, and being tortured by the idea of someone else’s chapstick. But here he was, turning around a bouquet that would’ve made his heart race if it were still beating. Akutagawa lightly smacked the side of Atsushi’s head, an efficient way to get him back up and pouting.
“Wait up here. I need to get dressed.”
Akutagawa ordered, walking over to the sink and grabbing the first cup he found to put the flowers in some water.
“Huh?”
“We’re going on a picnic, yeah? I’ll be back in a bit.”
With a small smile, Atsushi found the same two-seater they had sat at that morning, placing the picnic basket on top as Akutagawa went downstairs, watching the flowers sit in their glass.
Changing didn’t take long. Akutagawa’s closet was filled with black and white garments that he picked just about at random. The first thing he found was a black long sleeved shirt, and black jeans that had been crumpled in the corner of his room. For a moment he considered wearing something nicer, but considering they’d be sitting on the ground, and that Atsushi was waiting, he settled on what he had chosen. His coat went on last, and back upstairs Akuatagawa ventured, finding the other man still sitting patiently.
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
Atsushi stood up, straightened out his jacket, and picked up the basket, leading Akutagawa out of the store and onto the street. Outside was crisp but pleasant, a lot quieter than it was in the day. Birds ceased to chirp, there were no school kids walking out to make their train, or housewives chattering as they hung laundry. The only signs of life were the moths fluttering around the lightposts, cicadas chittering in the grass, and the pair’s footsteps as they walked. Akutagawa focused on Atsushi, watching his gait, his expression, the way light flecked through his hair, taking it all in.
“Why did you end up coming back?”
“To apologize, I guess. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like a jerk. I probably came off really strong, and I never wanted to upset you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I should be apologizing, actually. I pushed you away when you’ve done nothing but be infuriatingly nice. I thought I just preferred to be alone.”
“I get that. But I guess unlike you, I really like having company, so I stuck around.”
“I don’t mind company sometimes. If I didn’t, I would have locked you out and gone back to sleep.”
Atusushi laughed, lightly bumping his elbow into Akutagawa’s arm.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Eventually a small park came into view, a playground blocked off by a redundantly small gate, surrounded by a swath of grass broken up by a winding walking path. Atsushi walked over with familiarity, leaving Akutagawa with little choice but to follow.
“You come around here often?”
“Oh, yeah all the time. I like people watching, but it’s kind of an odd hobby, so I do crosswords while I sit.”
“That’s an old-fashioned hobby to have.”
“Well, you never told me what you do in your free time.”
Atsushi quipped, finding a good spot to lay out the blanket and unfolding it, resting the basket carefully in the middle. Akutagawa sat down on the right of the basket, and Atsushi on the left, splaying out intentionally so that his sneaker was just inches away from Akutagawa’s boot. Akutagawa tilted his shoe to bump against it.
“Well I suppose I sleep.”
“Who’s the old man again?”
“Tch. I like poetry books too. And I got a subscription to a tea sampling kit to pick new things for the cafe.”
Atsushi listened intently, though he couldn’t resist the opportunity to reach into the basket and pull out the food he had packed. It was simple; a couple of cucumber sandwiches, lemonade in store-bought bottles, and some kind of raspberry chocolate dessert for them to share. Akutagawa dully thought that the dessert would go nicely with mint tea, which brought his mind back to the bouquet.
“What were those flowers you got me?”
“Oh, the peonies? I picked them because they matched your tea.”
“No, not the peonies. What was the other one?”
“It’s a gardenia. It’s a type of flower in the coffee genus. They’re pretty cool, and they grow in the tropics.”
Akutagawa frowned. Peonies on their own would be pricey, but a tropical flower in Autumn?
“Atsushi, just how much were those?”
“That’s… none of your business. I wanted to get them for you so I got them, and that’s that.”
Akutagawa scoffed, turning to Atsushi with a deep scowl
“You told me yesterday you couldn’t buy reading glasses, why splurge on this?”
“You were worth every cent.”
“You’re horrible with money!”
“You’re probably right.”
The silence stretched between the two for a while, and Akutagawa finally laid back a bit, folding his arms over his chest and looking up at the stars.
“Gardenias are flowers that bloom at night.”
“What?”
“It just reminded me of you.”
“You got them for a reason as simple as that?”
“Yep. I already told you I’m a pretty simple guy.”
“I don’t think so.”
Atsushi turned to his side, peering at Akutagawa past the bottom of the picnic basket.
“How so?”
“You’re really kind, Atsushi. Maybe a bit too kind. You’re thoughtful, and persistent. You have unique hobbies, a unique outlook. You’ll do great in humanities.”
Atsushi didn’t speak for a while, turning over the dog tag necklace in his hands, as if thinking over the complement, then, almost subconsciously reaching a hand up to his mouth to chew at his cuticles. Akutagawa quickly reached across to grab his hand.
“Don’t do that.”
“As long as you hold my hand, sure.”
Akutagawa squeezed a bit tighter, feeling the warmth of Atsushi’s palm on his own. Feeling the gentle night breeze rustling the grass, the smell of sugary lemonade and raspberry cake. The twinkling stars above, and the dirt packed underneath his coat, the blanket, his back. For the first time in a long time he felt alive. His eyes closed, absorbing every single bit of the moment, letting the built up dam of unfeeling crumble, and eventually everything went quiet.
The rigid sound of an analog alarm clock shocked Akutagawa out of his peaceful slumber, forcing him to roll over on his soft twin mattress and reach a hand out to press the plastic button to silence his alarm clock. To his surprise, he didn’t feel the usual exhaustion that came with waking up, only a pleasant buzz that radiated through his body. On his nightstand sat a note, and the flower bouquet that he had put in water the night before. He reached for the note immediately, written in messy, looped handwriting on a napkin.
“You fell asleep so I took you back home. I had a great time, hope you did as well. See you tomorrow, Akutgawa! - Atsushi.”
Akutagawa sat for a while, still in the same clothes he had left in yesterday, turning the napkin over in his hand. Looking up at the bouquet and the glass it sat in, the smudged chapstick on the rim, and the residual tint of blue in the water from the tea, and smiled.