Chapter Text
It doesn’t surprise Atsushi to learn that Akutagawa has never had any formal schooling. He’s long since accepted the fact that the two of them are remarkably similar, and growing up orphans hadn’t provided many opportunities for either of them to have any semblance of normalcy during their childhoods.
It does surprise him to learn that Akutagawa knows how to read, and that he’s a fairly strong reader at that, even if he does have to wear glasses to see the words on the page. Once, Atsushi had asked, tentatively, who had taught Akutagawa to read; he’d gotten a look in response and chosen not to press the topic anymore.
He takes risks in other ways instead.
Akutagawa’s favorite book is an old, tattered copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales, something that Atsushi finds adorable to no end. He’s gathered from tidbits of info that Akutagawa has let slip from time to time that it was a gift to him from his sister, one of the first things he’d ever gotten from another person that was his alone to cherish. Akutagawa guards the dog-eared and scribbled-on book fiercely; it’s only recently that Atsushi has been allowed to touch it. He handles it with the utmost care, turning old pages worn thin with care, lightly tracing his fingers over the pictures that accompany the stories.
This particular night, he’s been granted the privilege of holding the book while they’re curled around each other in bed. Atsushi skims over the table of contents in the book, slowly reading but not really taking in any of the words on the page. He’s leaning back against Akutagawa’s chest, basking in the warmth of the other’s body when a thought occurs to him.
Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, he twists his neck around to stare at the other. Akutagawa is watching him, no doubt confused by the movement. Atsushi smiles at him, a soft and private thing to show it’s nothing serious, and Akutagawa relaxes marginally. “Do you have a favorite story?” Atsushi asks quietly. It seems wrong to speak louder than necessary, to disturb the tranquility that seems to come with the old book.
Something flickers in Akutagawa’s eyes. His lips part fractionally, but he says nothing. Atsushi's known him long enough by now to understand that the other is turning something over in his mind. He also knows that there’s no use in pushing Akutagawa, who is proud and stubborn--a dangerous if not somewhat endearing combination--and trying to force him into anything is only an exercise in futility. Akutagawa will answer the question if and when he chooses, and Atsushi is fine with that.
As it turns out, Akutagawa decides that the answer will be forthcoming immediately. He reaches around Atsushi to take hold of the book, and Atsushi lets it go without a word. Slowly, Akutagawa flips through the pages, stopping about halfway through the book. The picture on the left page is a young girl, dirty and weeping and Atsushi’s eyes trail over to look at the title of the fairy tale.
“Cinderella?”
Behind him, Akutagawa stiffens as if Atsushi has just scolded him. “Yes.” He says, voice tight and tense.
Atsushi is familiar enough with the story of Cinderella to see why it would be so appealing. An orphan who finds love and happiness, one whose tormentors end up punished for their wrongdoings, one who finally ends up with the life she deserved. His heart twists at this, not only because of Akutagawa’s plight but also because of how close the story hits home for him as well.
Akutagawa is still watching him warily, as if Atsushi is going to burst out laughing at any moment.
“Will you read it to me?” Atsushi asks, snuggling back against his boyfriend.
“You….want me to read to you?” Akutagawa parrots back, sounding out each word carefully as if they don’t make sense to him when they’re all strung together like that.
“Yeah,” Atsushi says simply. “I do.”
Thankfully, Akutagawa knows Atsushi just as well as Atsushi knows him. He picks up on everything that the simple ‘yes’ entails, everything that Atsushi can’t say out loud because he knows Akutagawa hates being looked down upon, hates being pitied, so he says little and lets unspoken words convey his sentiments.
“Alright,” Akutagawa agrees, and it carries just as much meaning as Atsushi’s ‘yes.’
He begins to read, his voice low and steady, and Atsushi lets himself be lost to the story.