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The chill of fresh fallen snow bothered Atsushi none as he stepped out into the wild expanse of the untouched garden. He drew the warm fabric of the shawl closer around himself as he walked, taking in the the still air and silence. He breathed it in and let it seep into his bones. A snowflake fell onto his nose and Atsushi looked up at the dark sky, a faint smile tugging on his lips.
He’d always enjoyed the snow. How it covered the earth in a blanket of white, making everything so much more pure to the sight and never-ending. And yet, despite the heavy snowfall, the flowers of the garden remained untouched and continued to bloom.
Atsushi had abandoned his finished book in his room and, unable to sleep, quietly left it, walking through the dark hallways of the castle unnoticed.
At least, he hoped so. He hoped he hadn’t disturbed anyone, least of all its abrasive master.
Frown twitching on his lips, Atsushi sighed and continued to walk until he came to the rose bush. Upon arriving, he cradled a single white rose in his palm but did not pull it off of its stem. Despite the faint rim of snow and frost over the petals, it continued to grow as healthily as it would in the summer.
The rose bush was nearly three times Atsushi’s height and far wider and expansive than he could even estimate. It grew wildly, untamed by the hands of humans and animals alike, but even Atsushi could see how cared for they were. The stalks were healthy, the colors, an arrangement of white, red, pink and even spots of yellow, were bright and warm. The leaves were full and Atsushi understood all too well how it could make anyone stop to take a closer look and admire their beauty.
More than enough for the Headmaster to pluck one and earn the ire of its owner.
Muscles in his neck tensing, Atsushi’s jaw clenched tight as he thought of the Headmaster, his left foot suddenly throbbing with a years long phantom pain. He still carried the scar.
Shaking his head, he banished all thoughts of that man and instead chose to focus on the quiet beauty of the roses on the bush, gently stroking their petals, but careful to not press down too hard or damage them. Atsushi didn’t want to ruin them with his touch.
The last thing he wanted was to get on Akutagawa’s bad side. Again.
Atsushi huffed with a roll of his eyes, recounting their last spat as he kneeled down to get a better view of the pink roses. The snow continued to fall around him, collecting on the ground and on the branches of the barren trees. He brushed the snow off of his shoulders with ease and contemplated how nice it would be to just sit and read beside the rose bush.
The night drew on and Atsushi made to stand up and return to bed when a flash of color caught his eye. Squinting, he leaned forward and parted the branches. Atsushi's eyes widened.
It was a pink flower with a yellow middle, but unlike the roses around it, it was not so nearly full of petals and it was widened outward. A sweet smell emanated from it, like apples. Atsushi had never seen such a flower before. It was beautiful.
Spellbound by its sweet smell and lovely color, Atsushi didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming up from behind him.
“Why are you awake at this hour?”
A rather humiliating yelp left Atsushi as he jumped, thorns scratching against his arms, and turned to see dark gray eyes staring at him, one thin, nigh unnoticeable eyebrow raised. Atsushi breathed sharply as he calmed down, hand against his chest. He gave an aggravated huff as Akutagawa stepped closer to him, arms crossed against his ever dark, pitch black clothing that stood out against the snow, a scowl upon his lips.
“Don’t do that,” Atsushi groused, smoothing down the rumpled fabric of the shawl.
“It’s your fault for not noticing me,” Akutagawa drawled, ignoring the sharp glare Atsushi sent him as he stepped closer. His thin brows were knit together, and his scowl lessened into a frown. “You did not answer me; why are you awake at this time? And outside?”
Atsushi stared at him, taking in the pale angles of his face, almost ghostly and inhuman in how pale he was, and pressed his lips together. He looked down and shuffled his feet. “..I couldn’t sleep. Coming out here is.. relaxing. I just wanted to take a short walk.”
A stifling beat of silence fell between them, Atsushi feeling Akutagawa’s stare and Akutagawa as expressionless as ever. Atsushi bit his lip before turning the question back to Akutagawa.
“I could ask you the same thing; you’re awake in the middle of the night, too.”
Akutagawa’s mouth twitched, tightening his frown. He didn’t answer.
Atsushi wasn’t surprised. In the time that he’d been shoved through the castle gates after the Headmaster angered Akutagawa, he’d steadily learned that Akutagawa was not one for many words. Sometimes they’d go days without seeing one another.
Atsushi sighed, but then he blinked as Akutagawa drew closer to the rose bush. He held a faint red bud between his fingers, and Atsushi swallowed as heavy gray eyes fell upon him once more.
“You were looking at something. What was it?”
Surprise at Akutagawa’s inquiry left Atsushi silent until the other man’s face twisted with mild annoyance. “There was just this--” He paused, biting his lower lip. “..I’m, not sure exactly what it was, but it was a rather lovely looking flower. I’ve never seen one like it, that’s all.”
He looked down at his feet, suddenly mortified by the stupid words falling out of his mouth and feeling like a fool.
“Show me.”
They really were dark pools of gray and black, Akutagawa’s eyes. They were the first thing Atsushi noticed about him the moment he walked through the doors to the castle, wandering through dark corridors, feeling so very cold, frightened and uncertain. Though he did not have the face nor the body of the beast villagers were too afraid to whisper about, his cold stare alone could cut skin and bone before his clothing ever could.
Nothing alive lives inside of them, those fathomless black eyes, they’d said. It has no heart, the devil’s offspring.
Atsushi watched as Akutagawa’s hand reached out into the rose bush after Atsushi pointed it out to him and wondered if a beast could really hold a flower so delicately if they truly felt nothing.
Akutagawa brushed off the snow with his fingernail and held the bulb between his fingers, observing it and narrowing his eyes, thoughtful.
“..Sweet briar.”
“Huh?” Atsushi blinked.
“A sweet briar rose, that’s what it’s called,” Akutagawa said. He pressed his thumb into a petal, stroking the edges. “I’ve not seen one in quite a long time. It does not grow on this bush often.”
Atsushi contemplated him for a moment before he too stepped closer, startled gray eyes shooting towards him as Atsushi smiled and reached out to gently stroke the petals once more. He inhaled its sweet scent and smiled.
“It’s rather different from the others, isn’t it?” Atsushi remarked, a faint laugh on the tip of his tongue. “I wouldn’t have thought it was a rose, it doesn’t look much like them.”
His smile widened at Akutagawa’s soft noise of agreement and felt some tension ebb out of his body.
“It’s very beautiful.”
Akutagawa’s stare flitted from the five petaled rose to Atsushi and took in the soft curve of his mouth as he smiled down at the flower, admiring its quiet beauty, how it stood out from its more extravagant siblings; lovely in its simplicity.
A sliver of moonlight emerged from the dark clouds thick with snow. It made the gold of his eyes shine.
Akutagawa decided that he could perhaps pluck at least one flower when they were more fully grown.
His fingers brushed against the leaves and branches as he drew his hand back, springing once more into place. Akutagawa would’ve left Atsushi to his own devices, returning to his own chambers in silence and isolation, had he not heard Atsushi’s sharp intake.
“You’re--You’re bleeding!”
Akutagawa paused.
“..I am?”
Atsushi’s brows furrowed, bewildered, and his purple-gold eyes widened with something unfamiliar to Akutagawa; he wondered if it was concern. Akutagawa followed Atsushi’s downward stare, towards his hands that’d been hanging at his sides.
Ah.
A thorn must’ve sliced through one of his fingers as he held the sweet briar or as he’d pulled back. Akutagawa stared at the sticky trickle of red along his index finger, listless. He gave an exhale and curled his fingers, watching as the blood dripped between his knuckles.
..He still felt nothing. He hadn’t even felt or noticed the thorn. He didn’t even feel how the blood stuck to his skin.
He’d lost the feeling in his hands long ago.
He’d lost count of how many cuts and injuries he’d gotten over the years; he hadn’t felt a single one. He hadn’t felt any bruises form, nor the throbbing muscles and tendons after a painful fall. He didn’t even feel how his throat burned when he coughed, the blood at the back of his mouth threatening to stain his teeth with each rack of his breath. His body now matched the state of his heart; so was the nature of the curse.
You have no heart. If you feel nothing in your heart, why should you feel anything in your body?
Akutagawa’s hand clenched hard and he didn’t feel how the open skin stretched further, almost ripping under the pressure and drawing more blood out. Still; nothing.
Nothing had changed at all.
(But he’d long since given up on hoping to feel touch in his body again.)
Akutagawa barely noticed the harsh click of Atsushi’s tongue until he felt himself being tugged forward, a slight jerk, and wide gray eyes fell on the determined set of Atsushi’s mouth as he took Akutagawa’s hand in his own.
Though he did not feel it, Akutagawa’s muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing--”
“Stopping you from injuring yourself even more,” Atsushi retorted. “Now stay still.”
The pair of young men glared at each other, tension springing between the two of them before Akutagawa closed his eyes with a raspy exhale, muttering ‘do what you want.’ Evidently, he was too tired to argue further or put up a fight with him. Atsushi huffed, satisfied, and turned his attention to the blood spreading along Akutagawa’s hand, now leaving a trail to his wrist. He frowned.
Slowly, Atsushi unclenched Akutagawa’s hand, spreading out the fingers and Atsushi was suddenly struck by how smooth the skin was; how long and slender his hands were. The skin was cold. No doubt a result of the snow and chill around them. The blood stood out on his pale, luminescent skin.
In his fingertips, Atsushi felt Akutagawa’s pulse.
Suddenly swallowing as warmth spread to his cheeks, Atsushi returned this attention to the open wound. He felt Akutagawa’s stare on his face as he drew out a small handkerchief from the folds of his night robes. He dabbed the blood away, as much as he could. Once it was clean enough for his satisfaction, Atsushi drew his hands away only to rip the fabric; he used it to wrap the wound in a makeshift bandage. He didn’t dare look at Akutagawa as he worked; he more than felt those heavy gray eyes that were so intense in color on his face. It caused a little shiver to run down the length of his neck.
Clearing his throat, Atsushi pulled his hands back, lowering the dirtied cloth. “There,” he murmured softly.
Akutagawa’s hand raised slowly, and the master of the dark castle Atsushi had been tossed towards as a sufficient apology observed the covered wound. The snow continued to fall around them, collecting at their feet and clinging to the leaves of untouched roses as Akutagawa lifted his eyes to Atsushi’s.
“It wasn’t necessary for you to do that.”
It was so soft-spoken, Atsushi nearly missed it.
So soft, almost gentle; he would’ve never associated such a word with Akutagawa before.
“I know,” he said. He brushed the longer strand of his hair behind his ear, feeling sheepish warmth gather on the skin of his face. “But I wanted to.”
Not a single snowflake touched the petals of the sweet briar as the two young men stood in silence in the garden, the snow continuing to fall. Neither could say how much time passed before Atsushi murmured that he ought to attempt sleep. He drew his sweater closer to his body, looked down and began to shuffle away, uttering a quiet, uncertain ‘goodnight.’
There was a beat of silence, and then an equally unsure whisper in return.
“..Thank you.”
Gaping, Atsushi’s eyes widened, staring at Akutagawa in astonishment.
Akutagawa wasn’t looking at him, instead focusing on the bright red shade of the roses. Perhaps it was the cold, but there was a faint rim of pink on the shell of his ears.
A smile curled on Atsushi’s lips.
“..You’re welcome.”
Gray eyes stared after him long after Atsushi had left the garden, disappearing back into the halls of his castle. Left alone in his garden, the same his mother treasured so, Akutagawa turned his stare back to the sweet briar. He gazed at it and then down at his bandaged finger. Curling his fingers into his palm, he pressed them against his chest.
Akutagawa wondered if he was just imagining the warmth in his fingertips-- where Atsushi had touched him.
