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Chapter Text

A storm is coming.

The sky, once bright and blue, is now cloaked in hues of grey, clouds rapidly gathering overhead as the wind sweeps along the jagged debris of what must've been an airport at some point. On the dust-filled, cracked concrete, two figures lay face up to the dark skies. One is draped in midnight shadows, the other is shining in silver glory. Both are battered and bruised, covered in blood and dirt. They gasp for air, desperately clinging to their humanity, breathing and breathing as if they are drowning and this is their last chance to fill their worn-out lungs with something other than liquid. The wind brushes over their bodies and in the face of everything, they look rather small. It is rather curious how the world keeps moving forward, the Earth keeps spinning, and the clouds keep gathering. As if everything didn't just almost come to an end.

Atsushi keeps inhaling the air violently, audibly, loudly with each gasp as his frame shudders. His whole form is still being pumped with adrenaline. His lungs strain and hurt with each breath and his ears ring loudly as he struggles to adjust. His body feels like it's made of lead, so heavy he cannot move an inch. No matter how much he attempts to do so, he is not able to control his breathing. All he can do is lie on the concrete, staring vacantly at the clouds forming above them. Ah, yes, he's not alone, his brain vaguely registers. It is a distant thought in this world made of grey concrete and clouds. The process of observation alone produces a fuzzy feeling inside his brain cavity. It bounces around and makes his ears ring just a little bit harder. 

Time seems to swirl into an inconceivable notion. Atsushi lays there unable to move or hear anything other than blood pumping, one could attempt to think that it was his own pulse taking over his sensitive sense of hearing so acutely. The detached feeling of concrete against his body could argue in favor of this too. He tries to close his eyes, he wanted to check something. His body registers the delayed movement of his eyelids closing and opening a few times. A slow motion that might've taken him minutes, he's not sure. The clouds go out of vision into the dark abyss and back into his view. So, he's alive. He must be, right? His brain struggles to register the possibility alone. He doesn't know how long he's been looking at the sky. Everything feels surreal. 

Atsushi spends some more time simply blinking at the clouds like a newborn cub exploring their sense of sight for the first time. He allows himself to get lost in the feeling of concrete, the wind, the hypnotic movements of the clouds... and then, as he lays there, he is hit all at once... God, there's sound, so, so much sound... the wind is howling, and he's gasping for air, and, and there's someone else breathing next to him, ragged and equally desperate. The ringing in his ears seems to have faded for some reason, and the sound of the world is all of a sudden too much. His sensitive sense of hearing is invaded harshly and he can barely process everything. He can't even move his body to cover his poor ears, he is completely and utterly hopeless in the face of the cruel overload. Atsushi winces and shudders and as he struggles to process everything, he becomes acutely aware of the other gasping next to him.

In an instant, as if by reflex, instinct, or dare to say recognition, one single word invades his mind

Akutagawa

Oh yeah, he was here with Akutagawa, wasn't he?


Akutagawa, Akutagawa, he repeats the name in his mind, enjoying the fuzzy feeling it creates as it bounces around every corner of his brain. He can somewhat feel his breathing beginning to slow down, although the pace is still erratic and frantic, there is a change for once. It looks like it's going to rain soon, he thinks in passing, his gaze still fixed up above. It takes him one... two blinks and then...

Disaster strikes

Atsushi's eyes widen in horror as his brain short-circuits, suddenly overflooded with flash upon flash of memories. Oh fuck, he exclaims in his mind and through the ragged breathing he exhales a sharp groan. Everything, everything, all at once, comes back to him, the fight that decided the world's fate, Fyodor Dostoevsky, his sacrifice, Akutagawa... Oh God, Akutagawa. He is violently woken up from the adrenaline-infused daze as his whole being is overcome with the urge to check, he has to check somehow. With a pained whimper through sharp exhales, he begins to break the barrier of extreme exhaustion-induced paralysis. Atsushi's fingers start to twitch through the sheer determination to move, Just fucking move. His body trembles from the strain, desperation taking over his senses. He has to move, he has to check, he has to, Please, Please just move. He uses every ounce of strength left in his body and finally, as if some unknown God answered his prayers, his right hand is freed from its leadened state. 


Without any second of hesitation, he painfully moves it sideways. The movement is clumsy and delayed, frantic even, as he gasps rapidly.

It all happens in a flash. 

His desperate hand finds the other's searching hand and without a moment of hesitation, they grab each other in uncoordinated motions, fingers intertlocking. 

Atsushi's face relaxes as he focuses on the feeling of Akutagawa's hand holding his. The sensation is grounding him back to reality and it holds his whole lifeline in his palm as he feels slender, calloused fingers wrapped between his own. The world seems to quiet down as he exhales sharply, a breath he didn't know he was even holding in. The wind sweeps around their battered forms in hypnotic motions, it cradles them and whispers sweet promises of safety. Atsushi can't really seem to believe them, and yet the cold, pale hand grasping his with every ounce of force left in his battle partner's body appears to be agreeing with the wind's melody. He looks to the sky for answers and his gaze is empty, drifting to a faraway place, past the clouds and hues of stormy grey. 

It all must be over, right? the thought passes his mind. Atsushi squeezes Akutagawa's hand just a little bit further, almost experimentally, testing the waters of his mortality. How is this possible? In turn, he feels Akutagawa do the same and for a moment, their hands become so interlocked that Atsushi begins to wonder where is it that he ends and Akutagawa starts. He focuses on the feeling, diving face first into it and as his mind starts to slowly adjust to the waters of this reality, his reality, their reality, his mind is overcome with relief.

He's alive

The words thrum loudly in his mind. He's alive - he repeats them, I'm alive, the conclusion shatters in his brain and flies all around it, hitting against every curve and corner of his cranial cavity.

Atsushi begins to shake softly as he struggles to process everything that happened. The way he sacrificed himself to save Akutagawa, how he came back from the fourth dimension and the fight that ensued with Akutagawa back by his side. Gods, they did it, they are alive, they are-

"We're alive."

His lips barely part and the words escape his mouth in a choked-up whisper. He didn't intend to speak, nor was he even aware of the fact that he was still capable of such a thing. His eyes widen in shock as the words echo loudly in his ears despite their hushed nature. It's as if he's committed a cardinal sin by simply bringing them into existence. And yet they drive a certain truth to the wind that carries them away. He hears Akutagawa's breath still just for a second and then a couple of harsh coughs follow. Then there's silence once again. The wind howls, seconds pass, one, two, three-

"Yeah."

The confirmation comes, carried by the sound of a dry, raspy voice. And with it, Atsushi feels his entire self crumble. It's too late, the pieces have broken off in chunks and they are all scattered around him and he can't pick them up, he can't move, he can't, he-

He feels wet, warm liquid running down his face, slowly dripping into his messy hair and down to the concrete. Is he crying? He doesn't know anymore. He's so tired. The vision of the clouds blurs as warm tears keep streaming down his cheeks. He can't stop them even if he wanted to. Instead, he clings to Akutagawa's hand as he trembles and shudders. It's his only lifeline after all, his only proof of existence, of humanity. Atsushi's breaths become uneven and he gradually starts to sob. Why is he sobbing? Why? Next to Akutagawa, nonetheless, he must look like a fool. But he can't help himself, so instead, he just lets the tears drip down to the concrete as he hiccups and gasps for air. He manages to move his left arm and places the back of his hand over his forehead, over his eyes. He wants to cover himself in shame. He doesn't know why. Maybe by instinct out of fear of rejection, of mockery, of punishment. He just expects Akutagawa to let go of his hand at this point. He can't come up with any reason why the older would tolerate such a pathetic display of emotion. 

But

He doesn't.

Instead, he hears him slightly shift and as moments pass, Atsushi builds up the courage to glance to his side. Akutagawa is looking at him in silence. His expression was something unreadable, something Atsushi had never witnessed before. His brows were furrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. But his eyes held an emotion unrelated to anger or annoyance like he's seen the older glance at him with so many times before. His face seemed contorted with something that almost, almost looked understanding. His expression betrayed his attempt at hiding the acceptance he glanced with in that moment. So Atsushi just continues to stare into his eyes, his head turned towards Akutagawa as the sobs don't stop and the tears drip, drip, drip. Their hands still interlocked, hold all the proof that he needs, but he can't help it as the words come out of his mouth once again.

"We're alive."

He smiles weakly through the shaky breaths, and Akutagawa visibly swallows nothing in particular, except the invisible knot that he feels forming in his throat.  

"Yeah."

Akutagawa repeats, this time his voice even more hoarse and spent, followed by a shudder that Atsushi vaguely registers through their interlocked hands. Something has changed between them. Atsushi doesn't know exactly what, but any person would agree that this is different. Are they even enemies anymore? Just a few months ago, they would've done anything to have the other killed, captured, or anywhere but existing in their presence, and yet... here they are, laying next to one another, holding hands out of all things. An Atsushi from a past timeline would definitely scowl and revolt at the sheer sight of this, but not this Atsushi, no. Because this is the Atsushi that was willing to die for this man and has died for him... or that's what he thought. And equally, this is the man that has died for him too, without hesitation, only a smile and a few words: Hurry up and go... You fool. He lets out a sob at the memory and blinks away a few fresh tears clouding his vision, he doesn't want to take his gaze away from Akutagawa's face. He wants him to feel seen, witnessed, alive. Just as much as Atsushi needs that in this moment.

As he keeps looking into his eyes, in his peripheral vision, he takes notice of the fresh pink scar painting Akutagawa's neck. He's never had the chance to look at him this closely since the incident on the ship.  His face grimaces and the older man searches his expression, trying to read what caused him such a reaction. The thing distracts him and intrudes on his senses with its display. A reminder of Akutagawa's mortality and sacrifice. A reminder of the sleepless nights that followed... of the blood, so much blood. 

Before he can register the movement of his own body, Atsushi sees his left hand come into his field of vision. He hesitates for a moment, and then his palm finds Akutagawa's carotid and rests over the scar. He feels the older man tense up under his touch, but his eyes never leave his. There's no sign of resistance or anger, Akutagawa seems merely startled by the gesture. A few moments pass and the initial tension dissipates. Atsushi can feel his blood pumping through the major artery, loud and clear. He begins to shake and sob once again with a soft, tired smile. 

"You're alive... God... you're alive..." he whispers meekly as if scared to shatter the order of the world itself. 

Akutagawa's eyes widen and instead of getting stabbed by Rashomon as he would've expected in the past, Atsushi feels how he begins to tremble under his hand. 

"Akutagawa... are you okay?"

The older man lets out a sharp exhale, and suddenly his right hand is planted on his chest, against Atsushi's sternum. The motion is nothing close to the younger man's gentle cupping of his neck. It is a rather feral act, desperate and tainted with fear. But nothing is gentle when it comes to Akutagawa. His eyes seem to be piercing daggers through Atsushi's skull for a brief moment before the younger man catches a glimpse of what he could only identify as a small involuntary quiver of his bottom lip. Atsushi holds his breath in disbelief, and before he can brush off the sight as nothing but a figment of his imagination, he notices that Akutagawa's eyes have turned rather glossy. Was he going to cry? It wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen as of late. 

Akutagawa struggles with the notion of displaying his emotions in such a vulnerable manner in front of the Weretiger of all people. He has been using all of his remaining strength to suppress himself until now. But his hand feels Atsushi's heartbeat under it and for a moment, he just lets go of everything. He doesn't care anymore, the world almost ended, he died for him and was brought back to life, the Weretiger did the same. There was nothing left to judge, no appearances left to keep. He knew that their relationship would be irreversibly changed from now on. His heart skips a beat at the thought and he's sure that Atsushi can feel it under his palm. If there is one time in his life where he should give himself permission to do something, he thinks this might just be it. So, he blinks slowly and small tears flow past his fluttering eyelashes. He focuses on the feeling of Atsushi's heart and his brain screams to say something. But he's not sure what names the emotions inside his chest even carry anymore. Relief? Frustration? There could be so many ways to describe them and yet none would make sense. It was always like this when it came to the Weretiger, he didn't even bother to question it anymore. 

Atsushi's heart is pulsing in his ribcage, full of vigor. He sees the older man try to open his mouth to express something, to reply, and Atsushi just looks at him, his eyes full of understanding. Like this, with Akutagawa shedding tears for the first time since he's met him, he feels like nothing else needs to be said. Akutagawa never manages to speak in the end. He swallows another invisible knot forming inside his throat, mesmerized by the sight of Atsushi's sunset-tinted eyes. He thinks that maybe things were always going to end up like this. Words left unspoken, so many of them, and yet they both understand the implications of everything that just unfolded today. It is a spectacular dance that could only be born of violence, perfectly synchronized teamwork, and sacrifice. A language spoken just between the two of them.

They sit like that in silence as they cry and gaze at each other. Time has long been reduced to a simple spectator. The wind begins to pick up while dark grey clouds have already covered the whole sky. They both start to lightly shiver under the cool breeze, but neither of them seems to have any intention to move or put a stop to the moment.

Cool raindrops begin to fall over them one by one.

Atsushi slowly retracts his hand from Akutagawa's neck and fights the sudden urge to reach out and wipe the older man's tears. He ponders that for a few moments as his hand hovers but ultimately decides against it. He doesn't want to make him feel weak. He's already seen him in the most vulnerable state he has ever shown him. Akutagawa's grey eyes follow the movement, unsure what to make of it, and notices Atsushi's intense gaze. The air becomes filled to the brim with unmistakable tension. But it's nothing compared to the old crackling hatred. No, it's a different sort of monster, something... softer. Akutagawa feels a cold shiver run down his spine, every fiber of his being telling him to flee. He doesn't know how to measure softness. It is not familiar or malleable like the previous feelings he's experienced. The concept alone is lost on him. 

So, he coughs out a dry exhale while removing his hand from Atsushi's chest and the younger seems to wake up from his trance. The rain starts to fall down faster now.

"We should probably go." Akutagawa speaks and his voice comes out more raspy than he intended. 

Atsushi seems to process the inevitable fragile end of the little bubble that they have created for a few moments and then nods. "Yeah." 

They both look down at their still interlocked hands, then back at each other. With great reluctance, they slowly let go. It didn't feel right. As if the world itself disapproved of this cardinal sin that was committed, the rain starts to pour at a rapid pace. They scramble to get up, their bodies weighted down by the heavy exhaustion. Atsushi notices in the distance a group of people seemingly waiting by, not too far away from where he and Akutagawa were. He immediately realizes that it was actually the Armed Detective Agency and his brain embarrassingly registers that they were probably giving them space for a good reason. He makes a face at the thought, an audible "Oh" escaping his mouth. Akutagawa uses this moment to slowly turn and start walking away. His brain has enough things to process after this day as it is. 

However, Atsushi quickly notices him distancing and turns around. Before he even thinks them, the words already escape his mouth "Hey, Akutagawa?"

The older man stops without resistance. He slowly turns his head around.

"See ya." Atsushi says, his expression softening.

Akutagawa is stunned for two seconds too long and then

he smiles.

Atsushi's eyes widen in shock, and before he can register what is happening, Akutagawa nods and turns his back towards him once more.

Chapter Text

The moon shines like a bright beacon in the night, illuminating the streets of Yokohama. At this late hour, the city seems to possess a heart of its own. Beating with the smell of wet concrete and distant noise produced by passing cars. Despite its rather humid disposition, there's a certain feeling of newly found wonder hanging in the air. The white, celestial body of the moon finally rears its head above the aftermath of a days-long storm. Its all-seeing eye looks after the world, chastizing it with its silver light. 

Somewhere, in a dorm room, there's a body writhing with distress. He tosses and turns inside the claustrophobic closet that usually serves as his place of slumber. The silver-haired figure has his eyes closed, face scrunched up in pain. He grasps the blanket with force in his hands, knuckles turning white. Then there's a gasp and a whispered "No.".

Atsushi abruptly opens his eyes in panic. He is awoken, covered in cold sweat, his body shuddering as his heart beats furiously against his ribcage. He looks around, disoriented, as he tries to even out his erratic breathing. Darkness surrounds him, and he tries to adjust back to reality as he slowly blinks. Before he can make out anything of reference that would ground him inside the shadows, Astushi hears two small knocks against what he could only pinpoint as a door right next to his lying body. He struggles to bring his vocal cords back into use. 

"Atsushi-kun?" He hears a small, familiar voice call out to him from behind what he can now decipher as the closet door. 

He weakly reaches out and opens it. The bright moonlight spilling from the window intrudes on his sense of sight immediately, and he blinks a few times as he tries to adjust. Kneeling in front of the closet door is a small, black-haired girl. Her face holds a neutral expression however, the look in her eyes betrays feelings of concern for the older man. Kyouka-chan, Atsushi thinks in recognition.

She continues to look at him for a few more moments as she takes in a deep breath and then speaks up softly, "You were having a nightmare again." 

Atsushi lets out a long sigh and then tiredly reaches out with his left hand to pinch the space between his brows. She's right. He's been having those nightmares every day since that god awful fucking battle ended. Sometimes, he dreams himself succumbing to a blade, other times, it's the Agency, the people closest to him being slashed to pieces, but most times, it's him. He shakes his head, trying to get the images out of his mind. 

"Yeah..." He manages to make his voice work and finally replies. "What time is it?" He speaks his mind out loud with a tired tone as his eyes search the darkness of the closet to find the clock. 

"It's a quarter past two in the morning." Kyouka replies quietly at the same moment as Atsushi's eyes find the dreadful time-measuring object. As if to challenge all his remaining hope, it indeed read 02:15. Atsushi groans and pinches the root of his nose just a little bit harder. 

"Are you okay?" She softly asks, her voice laced with concern. 

He takes his hand away from his face, realization hitting him, and he replies, "I'm fine. I'm really sorry for waking you up... again." he looks at her full of regret. He genuinely feels awful, this is the fourth night he ended up waking up Kyouka because of his restless sleep. 

"You're not fine..." She states, worry slowly taking over her neutral expression. 

Atsushi looks down at his hands and starts to fidget with the blanket in his lap. He hates to inconvenience the people around him like this. The other members of the Armed Detective Agency, they too must've noticed the lack of rest he's been getting. He knows Kyouka isn't the kind of person to go tell on him (unless there's something drastic going on), but he has already gotten a few intruding questions from Ranpo-san and some suspicious remarks from Dazai-san. Not to mention the extra checkup from Yosano-san that occurred the previous day. 

"I'm just... really tired." He admits defeat, he knows he can't really hide away from her observant gaze for long. "I'm sorry, Kyouka-chan. I'm going to be okay. Let's go back to sleep." He forces out a small smile, trying to reassure her. 

She looks at him, mouth pressed into a thin line, clearly not buying it. "Maybe there's something that could help..." she says thoughtfully. 

Atsushi's eyes widened slightly at the recommendation. He really hoped the nightmares would go away on their own. The first night it happened, he expected it to be just a one-time occurrence, a byproduct of the leftover adrenaline. But now, with Kyouka's concerned glare and suggestion to get help, he's not so sure that simply waiting it out would solve it anymore. It's already happened one too many times, and it started to affect the people around him too. Maybe he should consider looking for a solution after all. 

Atsushi looks at her with a genuine smile this time. "Yeah, you're right... I'll think about it. Thank you!"

Her expression finally softens. "Okay then." She nods. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replies and then gently closes the closet door once again. He hears Kyouka step back to her bed and he relaxes back on his own futon. 

As he lies in complete darkness once more, his mind starts to swirl with visions of the nightmare. A ship, a blade, an all too familiar figure, and then blood. Instead of running away, he catches him and tries to stop the bleeding this time. But he can't, the crimson liquid keeps pouring out of his neck. It paints his white shirt red and everything else around them. He watches as it flows out and pools on the ship's deck. It taints everything it touches as he sees the life force seep out of the older man's eyes. Just as he's about to say his last words, he wakes up from the nightmare. Atsushi shudders at the memory. Everything was so vivid, it was as if he was transported back to that moment on the ship when Fukuchi sliced Akutagawa's carotid open as he sacrificed his life to save Atsushi. God, how he wished to never have to witness that ever again. But here he is now, his own mind playing dirty tricks on him.

After the initial incident, he remembers being unable to sleep for the following days. The Armed Detective Agency would have been planning the seizing of the One Order, and afterward, Atsushi would end up crying in his bed while clutching Akutagawa's coat for dear life every night. It was the only thing he had left of him. In comparison, he thinks that just having nightmares must be a rather merciful fate to be bestowed upon him. Oh right... Akutagawa's coat, he is reminded of its existence as his brain reels from all the memories. He should probably find a way to give it back to him at some point. The conclusion comes naturally, although his mind never had the time to come up with it. He sits up in his futon and starts to search through the closet as quietly and slowly as possible. He didn't want to disturb Kyouka's sleep once more. It doesn't take him long to find the midnight-tainted cloth as there aren't many other one-of-a-kind black garments present inside the closet. He holds the coat by its shoulder parts and allows his mind to drift through old memories.

He had witnessed Akutagawa wearing it so many times. It served as the crux of his ability, his shield, and equally, his blade. The man would wield it with such violent grace every time they clashed in battle. And, ultimately, from being the thing that he thought would end his life at some point, it slowly became a testament to their cooperation. It turned into an extension of his tiger's power during the most crucial of battles that they faced together. He felt its unbridled force as Akutagawa manipulated it with abandon while they manifested Black Tiger's Supreme Claw. It was rather curious how many memories an inanimate object could hold. And he's sure everything that he remembers barely scratches the surface of this coat's history. There must be so much more that he doesn't know. Just like with the man that wielded it to begin with. He lets out a defeated sigh at the thought. He and Akutagawa are like two pieces of the same coin and yet there's so much they don't know about each other. They never took the time to talk, really talk like normal people. But what is normality in the face of sacrifice for your supposed enemy's life? He doesn't know, he's tired.

Atsushi lies back down on the futon and turns on his side, facing towards the back panel of the closet. He instinctively clutches Akutagawa's coat against his chest as he slowly blinks, staring ahead vacantly. He intentionally avoided taking another look at the clock. He doesn't want to know how much more time has passed. Time when he could have been getting some much-needed rest. If only his mind would have allowed it. He curls up on himself as he keeps holding the coat. Maybe I should think of happy things. The thought passes his mind, desperate to cling to anything that would help him fall asleep. His brain involuntarily drifts to the memory from five days ago. He and Akutagawa are holding hands after they stopped the end of the world. They cry together right as the storm is about to start. 

Atsushi keeps blinking, his eyelashes fluttering shut for longer moments between each blink. By the time his eyes fully close, there's only one image playing on repeat behind his eyelids: Akutagawa smiling then turning away. 

Two hours later.

His peaceful slumber is abruptly interrupted by the sharp ringing of his alarm. He groans loudly, eyes still closed, as his hand searches with the murderous intent of putting an end to the offensive sound once and for all. By the time he finds the clock, he is wide awake. He lets out a sigh, rubbing his eyes groggily. He feels so fucking tired. The few hours of sleep that he got didn't even come close enough to the amount of exhaustion he accumulated over the past few days. He looks around the closet trying to ground himself, before his eyes catch a glimpse of a black piece of clothing sitting in his lap. Huh? O-oh... His brain is suddenly overflooded with information as he remembers what happened just two hours ago. How... He-he fell asleep holding Akutagawa's coat- The natural conclusion arrives and he can swear something in his brain just broke. OH GOD, He throws the coat away from himself with a motion that one would only make if burned. 

He glares daggers at the thing, although, unfortunately, no matter how many times he tries to blame the poor inanimate object for whatever transpired, he only finds the accusatory finger pointed back at himself. The sole victim and perpetrator of his comfort-seeking behavior after all. Comfort, the word echoes loudly in his mind as he grapples with the notion that he just found comfort in something that belonged to Akutagawa of all things. He stops that train of thought right then there as he realizes his world might just shatter to bits and pieces if he allows it to fester further and lets out a deep, exhausted sigh. I really need to return it back to him. 

Atsushi finally decides to open up the closet door and begin his morning routine. He can hear Kyouka already getting started with breakfast. The exhaustion instantly makes itself known as the moment he stands up from the bed he feels a wave of excruciating dizziness hit him. He cups his face in his palms dreading this day already. It doesn't help that the Agency has been drowning in paperwork to complete after the whole almost-end-of-the-world debacle. They've been filling out reports with no end in sight for the past few days and this one wouldn't be any different. Atsushi sighs once again and drags his feet to the bathroom. 

The morning sun gently spills inside the apartment. Its golden rays bring promises of victory over the vicious storm. The notion of sunny days to come seems more like a fleeting dream in the face of a lifetime's worth of cloudy greys that have plagued the city so far. But alas, the world keeps spinning, day follows the night, the seasons keep changing and there are always sunny times after the storms. Everything dances within the circle of life.

Atsushi isn't so sure when time has passed. He vaguely remembers cringing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. Another layer appeared to have been added to the deep, dark circles that nowadays adorned his sunset-tinted eyes in the most off-putting of ways. His once energetic disposition was replaced by sluggish movements as if with each sleepless night some piece of himself was being stolen away.

At some point, he made his way to work alongside Kyouka, he assumes. That's solely based on the fact that he is currently sitting in the Detective Agency's work office, at his desk, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork to sort through. It appears a part of the work was already finished, he must've done it on auto-pilot until now. Atsushi rests his head against his palm as he absentmindedly scans the file sitting in front of him. He tries to read it but the words don't seem to make any sense to his tired brain. His vision is fully focused on the few starting sentences as he forces himself to go over the cursed piece of paper over and over again. However, no matter how many times he re-reads everything, his brain doesn't register any of it. 

Minutes have passed and Atsushi seems stuck in a trance as he keeps attempting to process the words inked on the file. In the background, a few members of the Agency exchange knowing looks. A black-haired man holding a bag of sweets walks next to the dark-haired woman who is idly observing Atsushi's state from a distance, arms crossed against her chest with a motherly frown. From across the room, a pair of knowing brown eyes follows them as Yosano gestures discreetly for Dazai to come over. Without hesitation, the man gets up from his desk and the three of them swiftly make their way out of sight. 

Atsushi doesn't know for how long he's been staring at that piece of paper. He feels his head slowly dropping lower, his palm barely holding it upright anymore. A hand with bandages peeking from its wrist up enters his vision as it lays flat over the file. "A-tsu-shi-kun!" 

The silver-haired man tiredly lifts his head, recognizing the evident presence of his mentor. "Dazai-san?" 

The older man smiles, his eyes shadowed in their usual mysteries. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?" His voice is cheery, however, it holds a certain gravity underneath the facade. 

Atsushi picks up on it and swallows as he feels panic start to form. He nods and gets up from his desk without protest, making sure to bring his bag along. He becomes even more suspicious as the other members of the Agency simply say their goodbyes for the day. Ranpo waves with a full grin on his face, Kunikida doesn't object to him abandoning his work and not even Kyouka asks any questions. 

The two men make their way out of the Armed Detective Agency's building as Atsushi's head begins to spin with the possibilities of what could have happened. He follows his mentor to a nearby park as they walk in heavy silence. By the time they arrive at a secluded enough bench, the younger man can feel beads of cold sweat dripping on his forehead and down to his brows from the stress. They sit down at a comfortable distance from each other as Dazai exhales, relaxing his back against the bench. 

"The weather is nice today." He concludes as he gazes up between the tree branches.

Atsushi's mouth is pressed into a thin line as he watches the brown-haired man, fists clutched against his knees. "Dazai-san... did I do something wrong?" His voice comes out hushed and laced with anxiety.

The older man slowly turns his head towards his prodigy and he glances at him for a few seconds with an unreadable look on his face. His gaze lingers over the puffy dark circles sitting under Atsushi's eyes. "Hmm, tell me, what's going on?" His voice is serious and his face holds what only appears to be a neutral expression.

Atsushi's mind takes a few moments to process the question as his eyes widen slightly. He quickly realizes that all of his assumptions were wrong: the world wasn't ending again and Dazai was not mad at him. "Ah...uhm" He stammers as he tries to find the right words. He remembers the conversation he had much earlier today with Kyouka "Maybe there's something that could help..." - her words echo loudly in his mind. So he takes in a sharp breath rejecting the instinct to deny everything and to tell his mentor that everything is just fine, perfect - if one might add. He intertwines his fingers in his lap as he shifts his gaze towards his hands, while carefully searching for the right words.

"To be honest... I haven't been getting much sleep." 

"That much is obvious, Atsushi-kun." Dazai cuts him off, he has never been that good at heartfelt conversations.

"Ah yeah, I guess you're right...haha" The younger man simply forces out a tired chuckle as he fidgets nervously. 

Moments pass as Dazai intently watches Atsushi, patiently waiting for him to speak up again.

"I'm having nightmares...every night, horrible ones..." he lets out a deep sigh then continues "of everyone..." he pauses as he briefly ponders that the word everyone should include Akutagawa too, enough so that he doesn't actually need to reveal that fact to his mentor. "Of everyone dying, again..."

Dazai hums in response as his eyes begin to sparkle with mischief. "I see how it is..."

"So yeah... I think I need some sort of help..." Atsushi continues with a bittersweet smile at the admission. His gaze is still locked on his hands.

Seconds of silence seem to settle between them once more then Dazai briefly rummages through his coat's pocket. Atsushi feels a firm hand lay on his shoulder. He finally turns his head back toward his mentor only to be met with a smirk.

"Here!" The older man carefully hands him a poorly folded, small piece of paper, his expression proud as if he's passing on some cosmic secret that he has just acquired.

Atsushi takes the note and inspects it for a few moments. He gulps unsure of what to expect at this point. In the end, he doesn't really build up the courage to open it, but does so anyway because what the hell could be worse than everything he's been through already? 

On it... Numbers? A phone number.

Underneath: Dazai's shitty handwriting spelling the name...

Akutagawa

Atsushi gasps with the instinct to throw the piece of paper away from himself as fast and far as possible, but his hands don't really seem to compute the command. So he instead looks back towards Dazai with a dumbfounded expression. 

"How? WhY? HUH?" That is all he manages to say in the end.

Dazai chuckles at his reaction then casually gets up from the bench, stretching out his limbs. "A little birdie told me you might need this so-" He cuts himself off to take another look at Atsushi over his shoulder. The younger man is still gazing towards his mentor with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. He feels like no matter how hard he tries to hide away, Dazai is always able to read him like an open book and that fact alone unnerves him to no end. So he just sighs defeatedly as he pockets the note. 

"Oh yeah, you're also free for the day." The older man mentions in passing as he slowly begins to walk away from the bench. "Do with that as you will!" The words ring sharply in Atsushi's ears as he deciphers all of their implications loud and clear.

The embarrassment might just kill him on the spot. There's no fucking way his mentor just went out of his way to give him Akutagawa's phone number then walked away implying that the two of them should meet. He cups his face in his palms, a futile attempt at hiding himself from the world. He might as well just dig a hole and hide inside it for the rest of his life at this point. But maybe, just maybe this is a good chance he has got on his hands. He wanted to return his coat anyway, right? Yes, the coat. His mind instantly grabs onto the excuse without second thoughts. 

With newfound determination, Atsushi pulls out his phone and enters Akutagawa's contact.

Chapter Text

The sky stretches out endlessly in a bright blue hue as the sun shines proudly over Yokohama. Most of the puddles have dried up by now and nearly everything seems to have been set back into routine. Small birds and other little critters have reared their heads out from hiding as they sing their tunes in the pleasant breeze. The trees sway lazily, as the soothing sound of rustling leaves washes away the usual buzzing of the city. Under their shade, a silver-haired man sits on a secluded bench, hunched over his phone, brows tightly knit in concentration.

Atsushi has been holding his phone in his hands, staring holes through the device for what seems like an eternity at this point. In reality, around thirty minutes have passed since the moment Dazai just upped and left him behind with that godforsaken note. The first step was dead and done, he added Akutagawa's contact to his phone. That much was evident considering how many times he looked at the number in disbelief while going over every single digit to make sure just one more time that he typed them correctly. The next step though was what got him in what could be the biggest dilemma of his life. How was he, Nakajima Atsushi, going to send a text to his enemy, turned (battle?) ally, turned man that he sacrificed his life for: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke? 

He sighs defeatedly as he deletes the message he carefully typed in once more. This was the worst. He realizes that no matter how he formulates the text, it will still end up looking weird. The opposite of weird was normal. And he can't quite pinpoint a moment where something related to him and Akutagawa ever could've been categorized as such. The notion is lost to the wind and to the chirping birds, gone climbing up the trees and catapulting itself from their branches to a faraway place. Now that he thinks about it, maybe sending him a text wouldn't be the strangest thing to do after all. In the wake of everything that happened, many things needed to be addressed between the two of them and he still had his coat to return. Finally having a direct line of contact with Akutagawa seemed like the best-case scenario he could've asked for.

He feels his heart beat furiously against his ribcage as he types the message once again. Suddenly finding his throat rather dry and scratchy, he slowly swallows. The message sits before his eyes, written in its most polished form. Just one finger press and it will be sent on its way. 

His hands begin to shake, threatening to drop the phone that he has been holding onto with definitely much more than needed force. This is it. He takes the final jump into the unknown and finally

he hits send.

Hello, this is Nakajima Atsushi. Dazai-san gave me your number. We should meet up whenever you've got some time.

He reads the message, he sees its status as delivered, and his body is no longer his. Atsushi might be imagining things but he swears his organs don't feel right. It's as if they've all decided at this exact moment that they don't want to serve him anymore and they are all trying to run away. His guts are all twisted and knotted together in their futile attempts at breaking free from their flesh prison. He's hunched over on the bench, head in his hands, the phone haphazardly, dropped somewhere next to himself and he thinks this might be it. Something might've finally broken inside himself. Something irreparable, something not even Byakko can regenerate. 

Everything seems suspended in time and space as moments pass and Atsushi thinks he's about to throw up. He feels dizzy and exhausted, what is he even doing texting Akutagawa? What if he doesn't reply at all? What if he doesn't even see the message? What was the point of all of this in that case? Digging a hole and hiding inside it for the rest of his life, once again, starts to sound like a rather appealing option. He honestly wants to cry. He doesn't know why, there are just too many thoughts inside his mind right now, pulling him in every direction all at the same time, and god he can't wait anymore. How much longer does he have to wait? What if he's waiting on nothing? What if-

Ding

The notification sound of a new message being received rings out and Atsushi's heart sinks. His hand reaches out to the phone with delayed movement. He slowly opens the device. 

Today, five sharp in the afternoon.

He blinks dumbstruck at the message, his brain not registering the words. Did Akutagawa not only read his message but also reply? No, no this can't be right. He double-checks the contact details that he himself entered in, despite that it was a clear response to the message he sent above. No way... is this actually happening? He nervously starts to bounce his leg against the ground. But wait...

Where?

Two more excruciatingly long minutes pass and another message comes in: an address.

Atsushi feels like his whole body is gonna burst from the inside out. He pockets his phone and then leans back against the bench staring at the tree branches above. He slowly blinks as he starts to wonder if maybe, perhaps he was dead. Maybe he never returned from the fourth dimension to begin with, maybe there was never a fourth dimension. Maybe this wasn't real and it wasn't happening and oh god- five sharp in the afternoon, means in less than two hours from now-

He abruptly scrambles to stand up from the bench and he almost forgets his bag behind as he starts to make his way towards the dorms with frantic steps. Atsushi ends up walking so fast that by the time he arrives at the apartment building, he's furiously gasping for air. He fumbles with the keys and then slams the door open. Once inside, he quickly takes off his shoes and starts to pace around, unable to sit still. In a hurry, he makes a mental note of everything he needs to do before he meets up with Akutagawa and gets started because shit, he's definitely going to be late. 

First off it would be improper to go dressed in his work clothes, they aren't meeting up for work after all. On top of that, the address seems to pinpoint the location of a restaurant. So he scurries to the closet and starts to rummage through it for something acceptable that he could change into. In the end, he decides on a denim jacket over a plain white T-shirt, plus a pair of beige pants and comfortable white sneakers. While picking out the clothes he runs into Akutagawa's coat, discarded in the same corner he left it this morning. He cringes at the sight of it. He has to iron the poor thing before he can hand it back to him.

By the time Atsushi gets dressed, fixes his hair and irons out the coat, the clock already reads 04:36 PM. He grabs the first decent enough bag that comes into his sight and rushes to place the folded coat inside it. It doesn't help his case that it just so happens to be a gift bag he probably received from Kenji at some point, adorned with a flowery white, yellow and orange design but he doesn't have any time left to look for something else and he has to leave right now or Akutagawa might just end up cutting his head off clean from its base. 

Atsushi darts out the door without second thoughts and starts making his way to the destination. He navigates the bustling city streets like his life depends on that and before he realizes it, he is now located in the middle of Port Mafia's territory. As he walks he begins to wonder if maybe he's making a terrible mistake. No one knows of his whereabouts after all. He is more than capable of handling himself but he's not so sure how things would play out if he ends up outnumbered. What if this is all just a trap? A cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought. His naivety proved to be a double-edged sword on multiple occasions after all. Why would Akutagawa agree to meet him outside of work otherwise? It's definitely unusual. He shakes his head and clutches the bag's handles just a little bit tighter. It's too late to back out now, he has to go and see for himself. 

Atsushi starts to sprint as he finds out the time is already four minutes past five. The streets leading to the restaurant are rather empty so that plays out in his favor while he freely rushes through. After what feels like forever he starts to make out something that looks like a subtle restaurant sign in the distance. This must be it. He continues to advance towards the destination at a frantic pace until he spots a familiar figure...

Akutagawa.

The man sits idly by the entrance, arms crossed over his chest. His stance appears to be relaxed and his face holds a neutral expression as he absentmindedly stares into the distance. Atsushi continues to rapidly approach and Akutagawa finally seems to notice him, turning his head to gaze in his direction. The older man curiously inspects Atsushi's state as he finally arrives. His unevenly cut bangs are sticking to his forehead slick with sweat and his cheeks are flushed a bright pink color from the effort as he abruptly stops a few feet away from him. He is desperately trying to catch his breath while he doubles over, palms propped against his knees.

"Ah-Akutagawa..." Atsushi manages through gasps.

"Weretiger." The older man simply replies with a small scowl now painting his features.

Moments of silence follow as the younger man tries to regain his composure. He glances up at Akutagawa taking in his appearance. He looks different. This is the first time he sees him dressed so casually. He could almost mistake him for a civilian if it wasn't for the familiarity of his presence. The man is wearing a grey turtleneck under a chic black jacket, black dress pants, and holy fuck those are some very expensive-looking shoes! Show-off... - Atsushi thinks with a pout but doesn't let the words escape his mouth. He becomes acutely aware of the fact that he has just been standing there in dead silence, staring at Akutagawa for a few solid seconds now. The awkward tension is suddenly very much present as they both keep looking at each other.

Atsushi decides to break the silence with an apologetic smile "Uhm, I'm really sorry for being late-" 

"I'll have you know if five more minutes would've passed, I would've left." Akutagawa interrupts him, his voice is scratchy as he makes sure to punctuate the word more.

"You're the one who set it up on such short notice!" Atsushi bites back.

The older man's scowl deepens "Shall I show you the message that you sent me? I precisely remember the word whenever being used."

Atsushi inhales sharply "Ugh, shut up!"

Despite the harsh scolding, Akutagawa's body language betrays other intentions. Atsushi can't help but wonder if he even had half the mind to leave had he run later. He looks rather relaxed and almost tired. With this realization, he suddenly takes notice of a pair of dark circles sitting under Akutagawa's eyes that very much mirror his own. The more he looks at him, the more signs of exhaustion he spots. His already light complexion seems paler than usual too. And now he's definitely staring. Shit. 

Akutagawa reaches out to cover up his mouth as his lungs release a few self-conscious coughs.

Atsushi averts his gaze, looking down nervously and he is finally reminded of the bag that he carried all the way here. The original reason that brought him to a restaurant in front of Akutagawa on a Friday afternoon: the coat. 

"Oh yeah, this" He extends his arm holding the flowery abomination towards the older man "...is yours." 

Akutagawa looks at the bag and then back at Atsushi for a few moments as he raises a questioning brow.

"Just take it, okay?" The younger man feels like he's going to die of embarrassment. If only Akutagawa would be so kind to finally put an end to his life before that happens. That would be for the best. So he closes his eyes, accepting his fate, his arm still outstretched. But the final blow doesn't come. 

Instead, he hears a deep sigh and Akutagawa simply takes the bag from him. This is definitely unusual - the conclusion arrives in his mind once again. Atsushi starts to ponder the unique circumstances he finds himself in. He was on Port Mafia turf, casually hanging out with his once greatest enemy out of his own volition. And there was no ambush in sight. No sign of violence to come. No fight to be had with Akutagawa. It was almost as if they were-

"How long are you going to keep standing there?" His thoughts are abruptly cut off by the older man's voice. 

Atsushi opens his eyes to find Akutagawa one foot at the entrance of the restaurant. He throws him a sheepish smile and then scurries behind him. 

The two of them finally enter the establishment and Atsushi can't help but scan the place in curiousity. It was a reasonably fancy restaurant, dimly lit and adorned in red and black decor. Definitely Akutagawa's style. The dark wood floors lightly creak under their feet as they keep making their way inside. He picks up on the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting in the air as his ears take notice of the slow, soft music being played. 

A waiter greets them and begins to ask at what table they would prefer to sit. Atsushi still distracted and seemingly lost in a daze, looks toward Akutagawa. The older man gazes back at him and then turns to the waiter.

"The usual spot." He simply states and before Atsushi has the time to process his words, the waiter is already leading them toward a table located at the back of the room, separated by intricate wooden dividers from the rest. 

They sit down across from each other, Akutagawa placing the bag on the empty seat next to himself. Atsushi enthusiastically relaxes his body against the plush chair, testing its comfort level as the older man watches the curious spectacle in disbelief. Atsushi quickly straightens his posture with an apologetic smile as he notices Akutagawa's intense gaze.

"So... you're a regular here, huh?" The younger man speaks up as he clumsily attempts to start a conversation.

Akutagawa gives in and replies "Yes, therefore it would be preferable that you don't make a fool of yourself."  his words hold no anger or annoyance as he adds "While I'm present at least." 

Atsushi playfully pouts "Hey, I didn't do anything... yet." 

The older man frowns as he mutters under his breath "I'm going to kill you..." his voice betrays no hint of real anger.

Atsushi intently scans Akutagawa's face and then leans forward, propping his elbow on the wooden table. He slowly, deliberately nestles his chin in his palm. "Oh, are you now?" 

They make eye contact for a few long moments as Akutagawa struggles to process the challenge.

He releases a deep sigh as he relents. "Shut up, you fool."

Atsushi grins victoriously and Akutagawa wants to kick him under the table but unfortunately, the waiter arrives carrying a pair of menus.

The younger man begins to curiously explore the list of various food dishes and drinks laid before him. Meanwhile, Akutagawa sits with his eyes closed, arms crossed comfortably over his chest as he leans against the plush backrest of his chair. Atsushi looks up from the menu and examines Akutagawa's stance. He allows himself to think that the man almost looks peaceful. 

"Are you not getting anything?" Atsushi asks softly, his tone sincere.

"I already know what I want to order." The older man replies with his eyes still closed. His voice comes out more exhausted than he intended to.

Atsushi's eyes continue to scan the menu but his mind starts to wander to faraway places. He thinks of two hands intertwined in the aftermath of a grueling battle. He thinks of warm tears cascading from a pair of grey eyes that gazed at him with the same relief that he found inside himself. He thinks of a brief smile peeking through falling rain droplets. He thinks of distant mutual violence that somewhere went horribly wrong and twisted itself into two bastard men sitting at a table exchanging bickering remarks that held no real animosity. He thinks of the unspeakable sins one has committed toward the other: sacrifice and salvation. He wonders how they will move forward from these atrocious acts of undeniable care. The deeds were dead and done and the blood was on their hands, on their clothes, covering their faces and they couldn't hide away from it anymore no matter how hard they tried to find cover under a crumbling facade. 

Atsushi lowers the menu on the table as he releases a shaky breath. His mouth is pressed into a thin line as his mind rushes through a neverending number of thoughts only to come up with the same conclusion. It was almost as if they were

friends.

Friends? Wait...no the label didn't sound right. It felt wrong. His brain short-circuits as it searches for a better term, a futile attempt really. Akutagawa was right, he truly was a fool. How could he, a mere mortal, attempt to define the subtle cosmic machinations of the world? No, what transpired between him and Akutagawa was far greater than themselves. There was no way to confine it inside a mere label such as friendship. 

Akutagawa slowly opens his eyes to find the Weretiger staring holes through the poor menu. Only that he is not reading it anymore, instead his fixed gaze seems more like a tool for detachment from the physical world as his brain seems scattered in multitudes, his thoughts traversing the highest mountains and deepest valleys of his mind. He continues to observe him from a distance, fighting the urge to intervene. At first, he doesn't realize why the empty gaze of the younger man seems to bother him so much, but then he is forcefully reminded of a blade and a smile under a pair of vacant sunset-tinted eyes. Akutagawa shakes his head with a small pained groan escaping his throat as he tries to make the memory go away.

"Weretiger." his voice comes out in a whisper and Atsushi doesn't seem to react. "Weretiger." Akutagawa repeats, this time louder and clearer and the younger man finally seems to snap out of it.

"Ah..." Atsushi blinks awake from the daze.

"What are you spacing out for?" Akutagawa's face is now dawning a deep frown.

Atsushi instantly picks up on the signs of tension in Akutagawa's body language and wonders if something happened while he was lost in thought. "I'm sorry... It must be the exhaustion. I haven't been getting much sleep lately..."

"I see." The older man simply concludes as the waiter comes to take their orders.

Akutagawa confidently speaks up: a cup of green tea and a bowl of the restaurant's signature miso soup. Meanwhile, Atsushi realizes that as he was lost in his trance, he never ended up deciding on what to get. So he just stammers as he orders a coffee and a bowl of ochazuke. The waiter leaves and Akutagawa shifts his gaze towards the younger man with a questioning look on his face.

"What?" Atsushi asks, still flustered from the awkward interaction that he just had with the restaurant staff.

"You spent all that time looking over the menu and you decided on chazuke?" The older man states in disbelief.

"Hey! It's my favorite food..." Atsushi retorts with a pout.

"I see..." Akutagawa replies as his mind wanders to their previous conversation. His gaze inspects Atsushi's features intently as he takes in the deep dark circles sitting under his eyes. He truly must've slept very little since the last time he saw him. It seems that by the grace of some unknown God, they were once again perfectly synchronized. And maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the reason for it too but his conscious mind would take the slash of a blade once more before he would acknowledge the coincidences and synchronicities of their curiously shared ailment.

"Uhm... what's your favorite thing to eat, Akutagawa?" The words stumble out of Atsushi's mouth as he starts to feel his ears turn red under the older man's exploratory gaze. A wave of what he could only describe as panic slowly forms and threatens to bubble up to the surface of his skin. He was not used to having Akutagawa look at him so raptly. It made him feel exposed like a raw wound to cold air.

Akutagawa blinks a few times still looking at Atsushi as his brain processes the question, and then he plainly replies "Figs." 

"What? Figs? I would've never guessed..." The younger man responds with a dumbstruck expression.

Silence settles between the two of them once again and Atsushi can't help but notice that he feels at ease in Akutagawa's presence. What a truly fucked up notion that was. To find comfort in the person who once tried to kill you with all their might. He gazes into the older man's tired, grey eyes, testing the waters of their connection and Akutagawa gazes back without protest or any hint of uncertainty. In his eyes, he thinks that maybe, if fate allows it, he will one day be able to find the answers to all the questions that have ever plagued his life. He already found some of them so what's a few more? He thinks that maybe Akutagawa would be able to do the same. Maybe he's being greedy. Maybe he should be thankful that they are still alive, sitting like this across from each other, under dim lights and on top of plush, red seats. But maybe he's allowed to want more for once in his life too. It's not that often that one gets a second chance at being alive and that alone is their shared burden. 

Atsushi is still gazing deeply into Akutagawa's eyes as he involuntarily smiles and the older man suddenly feels like there's something crawling inside his stomach. He tries to find a reasonable explanation for the expression on Atsushi's face but no matter how hard he tries, his hands come up empty. So why is he smiling? He's just looking at him. It couldn't be that he's smiling because of that. It doesn't make any sense. Or at least he doesn't want it to. Akutagawa gets that feeling again, the one that makes him want to flee. Soft monsters are not for harsh hands to handle. He briefly ponders whether the name of the feeling he's experiencing could be fear. He hasn't tasted its flesh in so long that his body doesn't remember its flavor anymore. A white tiger barring its teeth so freely must be a rather fear-inducing sight after all. And yet the tiger is nothing but an all-too-familiar man, sitting in front of him with those captivating sunset-hued eyes. Akutagawa involuntarily swallows. 

The waiter arrives with their drinks and carefully places them in front of the men, together with a glass sugar cube bowl. 

Atsushi and Akutagawa instinctively reach for the sugar and their hands end up touching as a result. They both freeze up at the contact as their minds are instantly invaded by feelings of concrete, grey skies, tears and two tightly interlocked hands. A few moments pass and Atsushi is the first one to finally remove his hand. 

"Uh, sorry, please go ahead." His words come out timidly, a poor attempt to cover up the lingering stains of what just transpired.

Akutagawa looks his way, still somewhat frozen in place, then nods. He takes the cap off the bowl and then carefully picks up, one by one, four sugar cubes, dropping them in his cup.

Atsushi watches in amazement as each sugar cube makes contact with the tea. "Four?!" He exclaims in disbelief.

The older man begins to stir his tea. "What, are you any better?" He replies with an unimpressed tone.

Atsushi picks up the tongs and drops three sugar cubes into his coffee while Akutagawa watches with a quirked brow. "As expected." The older man concludes.

"Hey, four is too much even for me- Wait... How did you know?" Atsushi asks with confusion.

"You grew up in an orphanage. Sugar must've been a privilege to have back then." Akutagawa says calmly as he takes a sip of his tea.

"How do you know that? Are you a mind reader now? Scary." The younger man feels a shiver run down his spine as he impatiently waits for a response.

Akutagawa looks up at him with a puzzled look on his face  "I work in the Mafia you fool. We have files on everyone." He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Atsushi's jaw drops open for a few seconds then he exclaims "HUH?! And you read my file?! You creep!" 

The older man brings a hand to his forehead as he lets out an exasperated exhale. "It was part of my job. You had a bounty on your head remember?"

Atsushi begins to furiously stir his coffee, not knowing what to do with the mix of emotions that he's currently experiencing.

Akutagawa coughs then adds "I don't know any of the details." He does so maybe out of guilt or another soft and monstrous feeling that he can't quite pinpoint.

The younger man finally stops mixing his coffee and slowly looks up at Akutagawa. "Then what about the scarcity of sugar? You knew about that." 

The older man takes another sip of his tea and then shifts his gaze away uncomfortably. "I grew up in similar circumstances." In the end, he finds it a fair exchange to reveal this part of himself, that much will have to do.

"Ah... I see" Atsushi sips his coffee thoughtfully, deciding not to pry further.

The silence that ensues as they continue to savor their warm beverages is suddenly interrupted by a few harsh coughs coming from Akutagawa. The younger man glances at him with worry as his mind is flooded with the memory of a confession made in the midst of a battle that took place in a land forsaken by every God: that ship's deck. His hands begin to shake at the recollection and he lowers them in his lap, setting his coffee cup down on the table. His brows anxiously furrow as his mouth presses into a thin line.

He takes in a deep breath and then whispers "How are your lungs?"

Akutagawa's hand, which was in the process of picking up his cup and carrying it to his lips, stops mid-air. He eyes the younger man unsure what to make of the question. He blinks a few times then decides on taking a sip of the tea nonetheless. 

"As they've always been." His answer comes with feigned indifference.

Atsushi's eyes widen then he nervously bites his bottom lip. He looks visibly distressed. 

"Are you still...?" He can't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Dying? No." The older man recognized exactly where the question was leading, he knew him all too well.

Atsushi's features finally seem to relax as relief takes over. Akutagawa tilts his head to the side in response to the younger man's reaction as he watches him with intrigue. It wasn't uncharacteristic for Atsushi to worry about the well-being of others however it was strange for himself to be on the receiving end of that worry. One could dare to call it care and what a wild notion that would be. Akutagawa to be the recipient of care. It almost sounds like a twisted joke. There's no space left in his life for soft monsters made of feelings that cannot be beaten into desired shapes with violence. And yet he finds himself submerged in them like quicksand the more he sticks to the Weretiger. Did he ever have a chance? Or was it just the illusion of choice that brought his feet along the twisted paths of life only for all of them to converge? 

"Is your illness still present?" Akutagawa's thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the man with violet-golden eyes. His sole savior and bringer of the end times. 

"It merely stopped advancing. For now at least. The vampire infection ability didn't cure it." He replies as he props his chin in his palm.

"I see..." Atsushi responds and as he's about to open his mouth to speak again the waiter arrives with their food.

As they are going to start eating, Akutagawa casually reaches out with his hand and tucks one of the white-tipped hairlocks framing his face behind his ear. A gesture unmistakably born of habit. Meanwhile, Atsushi's heart skips a beat in panic. He feels like he has just witnessed something forbidden. Something he wasn't supposed to. He awkwardly averts his gaze to his bowl of chazuke as he slowly swallows. His cheeks and nose are dusted in a pink shade as he struggles to get his nerves under control. He makes a mental note to thank the dim lights for probably, hopefully hiding his blush.

He takes a mouthful of his food but his brain refuses to let go. Something about the gesture made Atsushi find it alluring and oh my fucking god he was going to die if he continues to think about it. But it was too late, the image might be plastered in the back of his mind for the rest of his life and his heart is beating so hard and Akutagawa is sitting right in front of him and they are eating together. It's almost as if the atmosphere between them was

intimate. 

The conclusion arrives and Atsushi should feel like he has been struck by lightning but instead, he doesn't. Instead what he feels is a warmth inside his chest that slowly begins to spread to the rest of his body. It's a gentle type of warmth, the kind that cradles you when you need it most. Why does the thought of intimacy in regard to Akutagawa doesn't evoke any sort of fear or distress inside him? Was it perhaps that it wasn't the first time he felt this way? This is the moment that he found a name for the feeling, sure, but maybe the notion had taken root a long time ago. Its tendrils spread between trust-filled gazes exchanged in the midst of battle, between unparalleled coordination of skills, and between the countless times they saved each other. The curious current state of affairs suddenly felt like a natural conclusion to their story: two past enemies sharing a meal at a table in comfortable silence.

They finish their food and Atsushi is the one that finally builds up the courage to break the silence. "Thank you..." He whispers with a shy smile.

Akutagawa is taken aback for a moment, eyes briefly widening. "For?" 

"Uhm, well..." The younger man stammers. "for telling me about your lung illness back then and for everything you've shared with me today..." He feels his face starting to turn red once again and this time he's sure the dim lightning won't be able to cover for him.

Akutagawa glances at Atsushi with an unreadable look on his face as he struggles to process his reply. "Don't thank me, I consider it a fair exchange..." The words escape his mouth but they don't feel right. It's as if a terrible sin has been committed with their production into sounds. He grimaces and covers his mouth as he looks away. He wanted to say something else, not this. Akutagawa can't bear to look at the Weretiger and face him. The expression he might find in his eyes might break any semblance of hand-built composure that he has left.

A few excruciating moments of silence pass.

"Akutagawa..." he hears his name being called out but he can't face what he has done. 

"Akutagawa, look at me." The older man releases a shaky breath between his fingers. He can't escape, can he? The Weretiger has always been such a stubborn opponent. No matter how much time he buys for himself the paths always converge.

He finally dares to glance at Atsushi and he expects to find his face twisted with pain and disappointment. The two emotions that he has been looked at with countless times and yet after everything that transpired his mind would not bear to witness them on the younger man's face. Especially alchemized by his own two reckless hands. 

Instead what he finds is an expression of understanding beyond what all words in the entire world could ever tell. His sunset-tinted eyes gaze fondly at the older man and his mouth is curved into a gentle smile.

Akutagawa slowly takes his hand down from his mouth and he is unable to speak but his eyes whisper apologies he would've never thought that he was ever able to manifest.

Atsushi's involuntarily chuckles at the sight.

"Shut up..." The older man whispers in protest.

The younger man complies and wonders where was this endearing side of Akutagawa hiding all this time. Perhaps under all the harshly manufactured layers of fury and violence. But in the end, he is not a beast or a machine. He is human, just like himself. And the fact that he is able to see between the cracks of all the walls the older man has built around himself, is a simple testament to their connection. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Atsushi starts to feel a big wave of exhaustion hit him. The few hours of sleep caught up with him finally as the warm, comforting meal began to settle into his system. He feels his body start to slowly melt into the plush seat as he leans back.

He glances at Akutagawa and he appears to struggle with the same problem. The man is holding his head in his palm, arm propped against the table, as he slowly blinks, still trying to fight the weariness. 

"Do you want to go?" Atsushi speaks up softly.

Akutagawa lazily hums in approval and with a heavy heart, they both get up from the table. The older man grabs the flowery gift bag from the nearby seat where he left it and they head to the cashier to pay for their meals. They then make their way out of the restaurant and into the cold night.

The sun has recently set. There are no remnants of pink hues painting the sky, however, there's a feeling of loving promises still cradling the darkness that befell the city. The temperature is chilly but not unpleasantly so. No wind is blowing and its absence is acutely felt by the two men as it brings a certain stagnant tension to the still environment. They start making their way down the empty streets at a leisurely pace. Silence envelops them underneath the fluorescent shine of the streetlights. Some unspoken words hang heavily in the air and pass by them shrouded in the shadows of the freshly birthed night. They keep walking side by side and Atsushi can't help but dread the inevitable soon-to-come end of his time spent with Akutagawa. But for now, even for just a few moments that are left, he is content. 

Akutagawa slows down his steps and eventually comes to a stop. With a delayed motion, he turns towards Atsushi. 

"Weretiger" he begins.

"Yes?" The younger man replies as he looks at him and blinks a few times.

"This is where our paths diverge." He announces matter-of-factly, but his mouth is pressed into a thin line betraying his attempt at maintaining a calm composure.

Atsushi looks at him for a few seconds as his brain lags to process the information. "Ah, I guess we have to go our separate ways then." He finally concludes, his voice laced with bittersweet regret.

Akutagawa simply nods in response because he can't bear to speak anymore, or he might end up saying something wrong again. 

The younger man takes one more look into his eyes "Thank you... for today." He averts his gaze, he can't watch him as he does this "See ya, Akutagawa." 

The older man feels a lump form in the back of his throat and he tries to swallow it down but it does nothing to help and he can't respond and can't move. 

Atsushi begins to walk away and Akutagawa watches his back turn on him and he can't bear the sight. He is frozen in place as he helplessly observes Atsushi go. There are still so many things he wants to say, so many questions he needs answers for and so many feelings that he has to decipher. Don't go. His brain desperately screams but his mouth won't produce any sound and his body won't budge. He needs the Weretiger. - The conclusion abruptly shatters in his brain and its sharp shards lodge themselves in every nook and cranny of the soft grey matter. With newfound desperation, he makes one last bet.

As Atsushi walks away, barely holding in tears he, all of a sudden, feels something tug on the sleeve of his jacket. He instantly stops and looks to his arm only to find a thin strand of black fabric sticking loosely to him. Could this be... Rashomon? He inhales deeply not knowing what to expect once he turns around. He slowly throws a glance over his shoulder and he doesn't know what he imagined he would see but it definitely wasn't this.

In the dark alley, illuminated by the fluorescent streetlights stood an all-too-familiar man. Dressed in a grey turtleneck, a black jacket that was partially manipulated into Rashomon to reach for Atsushi, black dress pants, and expensive shoes. The man was covering his mouth with his pale, shaking hand, and in his averted gaze

he held an expression of pain so vast that Atsushi couldn't bear the sight of it. 

So he turns around without a second thought and walks toward him. 

"Stay." The hushed, broken word rings sharply in Atsushi's ears as his eyes widen in shock.

A raspy exhale follows then a choked-up "Stay." is produced from Akutagawa's throat once more.

It's the final nail in the shabby, makeshift emotional coffin that Atsushi tried to build in order to leave to begin with.

Warm tears begin to pour from his eyes.

"Okay."

Chapter Text

The city is imprinted everywhere with the heavy-handed marks of darkness. The cold night air carries a certain trepidation, the kind that hangs densely in one's lungs. All sounds seem to have been sucked out of the world as not even the usual humming of cars can be heard. Under the dancing shadows of neon-flickering streetlights, two figures walk down empty alleys. Side-by-side, like exiled lovers returning home in secret, their forms wander with a purpose. Silence hung between them, words left unspoken lest they be caught with blood on their hands.

They make their way through the night-shrouded city until they reach a tall, fancy apartment building. Unmistakably, Port Mafia-owned property. The silver-haired man gazes at his companion, waiting for confirmation.

"This is it." Akutagawa whispers as he briefly works through his pocket, pulling out his keys. 

They approach the entrance, and he turns towards Atsushi with a conflicted look in his eyes. "Are you sure?" He mutters, wanting to check if the younger man has changed his mind.

Without hesitation, Atsushi nods and then replies. "Yeah." 

"Okay." The older man says in turn, and then he slides the entrance card down the electronic device located on the door. It opens with a beep and they make their way inside the building.

As they wait for the elevator to come down, Akutagawa glances at Atsushi once more. "You can leave anytime you want..."

"Thank you for not kidnapping me in that case!" The younger man jests, he hadn't seen Akutagawa so on edge in forever.

The older man's eyes widen in shock. "That's not what I meant-" 

"Akutagawa," Atsushi cuts him off as he looks directly into his eyes. "I'm staying because I want to." He speaks the words softly but full of conviction.

Akutagawa's heart skips a beat at the Weretiger's determination and he ends up swallowing a lump of panic forming in his throat, instinctively averting his gaze back towards the elevator doors. Silence laced with an experimental feeling of expectancy dances in the air between them as they continue waiting.

The elevator finally arrives and they make their way inside it. Once Akutagawa presses the button for the seventh floor and the doors close, the tension becomes palpable. 

Atsushi doesn't know what to expect once he steps inside Akutagawa's apartment. The time of possible danger has long passed, so that's out of the question. The man had asked for him to stay in such a raw, broken manner that it would've taken all of his limbs and guts and perhaps more to refuse him. And that's only in the case where he wanted to. The truth is that he didn't wish to be apart from Akutagawa just as much. He didn't know why, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his side. There was something ancient, something deeply forbidden at play, and they both seemed to have gotten swept up in its magnetic pull. He doesn't really know what will happen when they end up in his apartment, and Atsushi doesn't want to bother with making up scenarios. So he decided he's just gonna see with his own eyes and go with the flow.

The elevator stops and the doors open with a ding. They walk out and Akutagawa leads Atsushi down the fancy, marbled hallway. The younger man feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest from the anticipation.

Akutagawa stops in front of an all-black door. "We arrived." He announces in a hushed tone, then he takes another glance at Atsushi for confirmation. He is met with an excited nod, so he proceeds to unlock it. 

They step inside the apartment and Akutagawa turns on the lights. They take off their shoes and place their jackets on the coat rack. Atsushi nervously stands at the entrance of the main room as the older man simply walks ahead. He is taken aback by the view of a spacious apartment, covered in dark hues and filled with expensive, wooden furniture. The lighting is dim and cozy as various antiques subtly decorate a few places in the house, a stark contrast to the otherwise modern design. 

"What are you standing there for?" Akutagawa throws him a look over his shoulder as he goes toward the coffee table and places the flowery gift bag on top of it.

"Ah, uhm, is it really okay for me to...?" Atsushi stutters, completely stunned in place, trying to process the amount of money that just one month of maintenance for this apartment must cost.

Akutagawa turns around to face him and crosses his arms over his chest with a quirked brow. "Did you think I was going to invite you over and make you sleep in the entrance hall?" He lets out a soft, defeated sigh, and then he adds: "Make yourself at home." gesturing toward the black leather couch at the center of the living room. 

Atsushi complies and finally enters the house with a sheepish bow. He instantly notices the comforting smell of tea that seems imprinted into the apartment. Akutagawa must really enjoy tea. He concludes with a small smile, then heads to the couch. He sits down, relaxing his body against it with a big exhale.

"Wow, this is really comfortable!" He exclaims with the awe of a child opening a present on Christmas day. 

Akutagawa watches him, unimpressed, arms still crossed against his chest. "Obviously, I picked it for that exact reason... and for the aesthetic purposes." 

Atsushi can't help but chuckle at that last line. "Of course... all-black... like your heart." He teases.

The older man feigns a scowl for a few seconds. "Shut up, fool, and tell me if you want anything." 

"Ah, not really. I pretty much had my fill at the restaurant. Perhaps a glass of water?" 

Akutagawa walks to the open kitchen and briefly searches through a cupboard, getting two glasses. He fills them with water and moves to Atsushi's side, setting the glasses on the coffee table and then joining him on the couch.

The younger man picks up his glass and sips the water, throwing a few glances in Akutagawa's direction. "So... do you want to see what's in the bag?" He awkwardly asks.

"Do I want to see what's in the bag...?" The older man repeats rhetorically, staring at the flowery disaster with apprehension. 

Atsushi throws him a smile and shrugs.

Akutagawa sighs and reaches out for the gift bag. He places it in his lap, refusing to take a look inside for a few long seconds. Finally, he inserts his hand into the heart of the beast and pulls out the coat. His eyes instantly widen in shock. 

"How did you...?" It's all he manages to say, his gaze focused on the piece of clothing.

"Ah, well, back then..." Atsushi starts and averts his eyes to a fixed point on the coffee table, hesitating to continue. "On the ship... I was still wearing Rashomon when I..." left you - are the words that he can't bear to manifest into sound as his mouth presses into a thin line and his brows furrow in pain at the memory.

Akutagawa releases a shaky breath that he didn't know he was holding in. "I see."

His hands start to slowly run over the coat, feeling its texture as if getting re-acquainted with a long lost friend. Old memories begin to blossom in his mind as he holds the piece of clothing in his hands with equal parts reverence and dread. The unforgettable images of a bloody night flash before his eyes. Visions of dead children and hatred - the first emotion he ever tasted. He thumbs at the hems of the coat in circular motions. A forest and an ancient tree surrounded by corpses of long gone perpetrators. He grips the cloth. One person sitting at the base of the tree: Osamu Dazai. He wants to tear the coat apart. That is where it all began.

"Akutagawa?" He hears the gentle voice of the Weretiger, but he can't pry his eyes away from the inanimate textile piece that seems to thrum with life under his fingertips for a brief moment.

However, the sound of his voice is like a beacon in the night as his thoughts shift. Memories of violence, of growth, of strength, of purpose, replace the previous images. Years upon years of experiences are imprinted in the fabric of this coat. In a twisted way of putting it, it became a part of himself. A part that he lost but that somehow made its way back into his grasp. Is this an allegory? A trial of sorts? That no matter where he runs or hides, he will never be free from the shackles of a history loaded full of murder and abuse? And yet the one that brought it back to him is not Dazai or some other demonic entity of his past. No, it's the Weretiger. The one that wore this coat, this piece of himself, with pride and power every time that they combined their forces on the battlefield. Maybe there's a deeper meaning to be found in that. One that he is too tired to grasp right now. So he releases another shaky breath and slowly looks up at Atsushi.

"Are you okay?" The younger man asks with worry painting his face.

"Not precisely, but I will manage." Akutagawa replies with a bittersweet tone.

"Ah... I apologize... I didn't mean to upset you by doing this..." Atsushi whispers, full of regret, not bearing to look into the older man's eyes.

"Thank you for returning it to me." His words are genuine and soft-spoken, something the younger man never expected to hear from Akutagawa.

Atsushi is taken aback for a few seconds. "You're welcome." He pauses for a brief moment. "And sorry about the bag, I was running late... as you already know. I'm aware that it's not your style..." He replies with a nervous laugh. 

"You don't say." Akutagawa teases as he picks up his glass of water and takes a few sips, relaxing against the back of the couch.

Atsushi lazily turns his head to look into the older man's eyes as he feels a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him. "So... what next?" 

Akutagawa doesn't appear to be holding up that well either as he slowly blinks, getting lost in the violet-golden hues of Atsushi's gaze. "A bath and sleep, personally." His reply comes slightly slurred, but he no longer has the energy to cringe at the fact.

"Mmm, I'll have what he's having!" The younger man announces, playfully pointing in Akutagawa's direction.

"I'm going in first." The older man adds as he settles the glass back on the coffee table and then carefully folds the coat, placing it back in the gift bag for now.

"Okay." Atsushi replies, the word barely above a whisper. 

Akutagawa gets up from the couch sluggishly, then stretches his arms above his head with a small groan. "I'm off to the bathroom. Don't break anything in my absence, or I'm turning you into a tiger pelt rug." He taunts as he starts walking away.

"Hey! I'm a human being, you know! Hu-man!" Atsushi bickers back as Akutagawa has already left the room. He can't help but smile as he settles back comfortably against the couch. He finds himself enjoying every moment spent with the man nowadays.

He hears the bathroom door open and then close. So he relaxes his body further, shutting his eyes, and he begins to ponder today's events. For a brief moment, he wonders how a simple text resulted in him being invited to sleep over at Akutagawa's place, but his hands come up empty. And despite that, it feels natural, normal even, like two rivers always converging despite the long time they spend apart. 

Atsushi thinks back fondly on a pair of dark grey eyes intently gazing at him with no more anger or animosity and he believes that maybe he could allow himself to get used to this. To this new dynamic and newfound connection that they shared. He reminisces about all the curious little things that he learned about Akutagawa in just this one day, and he smiles once more. As expected, he was rather peculiar, but he had no place to judge since he too was far from ordinary. And yet again, they found themselves in opposing directions but equally similar, considering what the man had mentioned about his upbringing as well. Atsushi feels a small sentiment of excitement fluttering in his ribcage. For some reason, he is looking forward to maybe learning more about Akutagawa in the future. 

Ding

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the message notification sound of his phone - Shit. He quickly rummages through his pockets to find the device. He never ended up letting Kyouka know that he is spending the night elsewhere, the poor girl must be worried sick. He finally finds the phone and opens it. 

Are you okay? Please reply when you see this, or I'm going straight to Ranpo-san.

Oh God, no, there's no way that's happening. He shudders at the thought of the whole Detective Agency finding out that he is going to be sleeping in Akutagawa's apartment. He quickly types in a response.

Hey, I'm sorry for worrying you by not saying anything earlier. I'm spending the night over at a friend's place. I'll be back tomorrow.

He cringes at having to use the word friend but anything else would sound weird or make her suspicious, so this will have to do. Kyouka sees the message and doesn't proceed to call him, so he takes that as a good sign. He lets out a deep sigh, propping his head on the back of the couch and looking up at the ceiling. Why does the word friend in regards to Akutagawa irk him so much? Perhaps because it feels superficial and like it can't describe all the intricacies of their relationship. But if they are not enemies or friends, then where does that leave them? Not to mention, as much as he has avoided thinking about it until now, he did look at Akutagawa with affection today and even found him attractive. Some other new ingredients to the pot of mixed feelings that have been added without his intention. 

Meanwhile

Akutagawa steps into his bathroom, closing the door behind himself but not bothering to lock it because of an odd feeling of trust that makes itself known loud and clear with this simple gesture. He turns on the water to the rather large corner bathtub, allowing it to start filling as he begins undressing. He unfastens the belt of his dress pants and slowly lowers them off his lean body, the socks follow and then the black boxer briefs. He is left wearing nothing but his grey turtleneck as he briefly gazes at his reflection in the mirror, buying time before the inevitable more than anything else. He inspects his face, hunching over the sink. The dark circles are so prominent that he wonders how did the Weretiger not tell him that he looks like shit until now. He scoffs and then backs away, straightening his posture once more. Akutagawa takes in a deep breath, and with a heavy heart, he grabs the edges of the turtleneck and pulls it upwards until the piece of clothing is completely off his frame. He reluctantly lets go of it in the laundry basket.

This step is never easy, and he doesn't think it will ever truly get easy. The feeling of vulnerability that comes with being naked is amplified tenfold when it comes to Akutagawa. He is used to having the security of cloth around him that can at any time be manipulated into a shield or blade, given the case. Without it, he feels weak and defenseless, the two emotions that he despises the most. His ability is the sole reason why he was able to survive the first fourteen years of his life to begin with. Not to mention the countless other times that came after he joined the mafia. He shakes his head and gets into the bathtub, slowly lowering himself into the warm water. 

He sits completely still, surrounded by nothing other than the four tiled walls of the bathroom and complete silence. He closes his eyes, trying to relax, but he can't shake off the feeling of helplessness brought on by being exposed. He feels like he's surrounded by a dozen pairs of hungry eyes, staring holes right through his bare flesh and into his soul, ready to pounce at any given time. His brows furrow at the feeling as his mind starts to spiral. The Weretiger is in the other room. If someone were to attack him right now, would he come to his aid? The fool surely would, he did that, after all. He shudders at the memory of vacant sunset eyes and a few words spilling from a pair of lips curved into a smile. No, anything but that. He brings his knees to his chest in a poor attempt to protect himself from the vicious beasts lurking all around him. 

It doesn't help. He is overcome with another uncomfortable, familiar feeling. The one of fear in the face of things he cannot change or control. Its presence transports him back to all the times he had to fend for himself and the other kids during his childhood in the slums, to all the times he got abused, tortured, and almost killed by Dazai. And to the time where he watched helplessly as the Weretiger was cut down by a blade. No, please, no. Before he realizes it, it's too late as he is getting pulled out to sea and further away from the shore of his conscious mind. He starts to tremble. Consider us even. Away with you... you fool. - The words ring loudly in his ears. Why is this happening?

Akutagawa suddenly feels pressure on his head, like someone or something is grabbing him. The beasts smell the blood, so it's only natural that they hunt down the prey. He opens his eyes in distress, and where he expects to find the sterile walls of his bathroom, he is instead met with the image of an airport-turned-battlefield. He looks around, dread overtaking all his senses. Stop, just make it stop. No more. Please. He doesn't even have the time to react as he sees the Weretiger come into his view and push him away from the trajectory of the blade. He screams until his lungs and throat are raw.

Atsushi suddenly hears a shout. He instantly gets up, fully alarmed. Then he hears another. It's Akutagawa's voice - the conclusion shatters inside his brain. He hurries out of the living room and in the direction of the sound. A million scenarios rush through his head in panic: Did he get attacked? But how? No one else entered the house. Is he injured? Oh, gods, is he injured? He rushes, disoriented, through the apartment until he reaches the bathroom door. He hears splashing of water accompanied by sounds of a struggle, and before he even gets the chance to have second thoughts of walking in on Akutagawa, he hears him scream once again.

"WERETIGER!" The sound pierces Atsushi's ears, and he slams the door open, full of fear of what he might find behind it. 

He gasps for air, standing distraught in the doorway of the bathroom for a few moments as his brain struggles to process the image unfolding before his eyes. Akutagawa is alone in his tub, knees bent to his chest and hands tangled in his hair as he holds his head in distress. He is shuddering and crying, his eyes widened in panic as he appears detached from reality with his mind lost in a faraway place. Atsushi takes in a deep breath, steeling himself. He closes the door and slowly begins to approach the bathtub. 

"Akutagawa?" He whispers softly, not wanting to trigger something worse in the man.

No response, just more trembling, then sobs and gasps spilling from his lips.

Atsushi reaches him and slowly lowers himself onto the floor next to the tub to be at eye level with Akutagawa. He recognizes the look of terror on his face. He is having a traumatic flashback. - He concludes with a furrow of his brows, he knows all too well how bad those can get. The younger man sighs as he watches him helplessly, he doesn't want to touch him for fear of making things worse. 

"Hey, Akutagawa, I'm here." He whispers once again as he looks at him, full of worry.

The older man suddenly tightens his grip onto his hair, and he begins to repeat the word "No." over and over again, shaking his head in distress.

"Akutagawa, look at me, please. I'm here, it's okay." Atsushi says softly as he props his chin on the edge of the tub, trying to get closer without touching him.

As he continues to frantically shake his head, his eyes appear to finally take notice of Atsushi's presence, the movement coming to a halt as he looks at him in disbelief, wide-eyed with fear and pain, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

"There you go. Try to breathe." The younger man whispers with a few cracks in his voice, holding back tears of his own as he is overcome with relief.

Akutagawa takes in a deep, shaky breath, releases it from his lungs, and then repeats the cycle a few more times. He still seems rather disconnected from his own body, but he appears to be coming down from it. 

"Good, keep going." Atsushi faintly smiles at seeing him finally being responsive. "Is there anything that I can do to help you?" He asks in a gentle tone.

Nothing would have prepared him for what happens next as it all occurs in a flash: Akutagawa detangles his hands from his hair, and with a feral gesture of complete desperation, he throws his arms around Atsushi's shoulders, grasping him tightly and burying his face and the crook of his neck. He continues to sob as he tries to breathe like the younger man had instructed. Atsushi is completely stunned in place as he tries to process the sudden contact. With shaking hands, he slowly but surely wraps his arms around Akutagawa's bare back, hugging him. "You're safe. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm not leaving you. You're with me." - he begins to whisper sweetly in intervals like a mantra against his ear as he rubs soothing circles on his naked skin.

The older man continues to shake, wrapping his arms tighter around Atsushi. "You're here..." He chokes out the words, broken and weak. 

"Yeah, I'm right here." Atsushi quickly confirms, holding him closer in turn as well. 

"You're alive..." Akutagawa speaks against the skin of his neck in disbelief, and suddenly, everything starts to make sense to the younger man. The dark circles under Akutagawa's eyes, why he was tense back at the restaurant when Atsushi spaced out, and the reason why they both needed each other so much right now.

He releases a shaky breath. "Yes, alive and hugging you in your bathroom." 

They stay like that for a few more minutes as Akutagawa's breathing slowly evens out and he stops crying. With reluctance, he begins to unwrap his arms from around Atsushi. The younger man follows his lead and Akutagawa slowly lowers himself back into the water, knees to his chest and his gaze fixed on the younger man. 

"How are you?" Atsushi asks as he sits with his cheek against the cold edge of the bathtub.

"Somewhat better." Akutagawa replies, his voice hoarse from all the sobbing and screaming.

"That's good to hear. Uhm... do you want me to go?" The younger man asks, averting his gaze to the side.

"No. Stay." The older man says in a heartbeat.

"Alright, I'm staying, although I guess... It's going to be a bit awkward..." Atsushi raises his head and nervously starts playing with the jagged tips of his bangs in a poor attempt at hiding his face.

A few moments of silence pass, and Akutagawa finally speaks up again. "You can... join me... if you want." 

Atsushi shifts his gaze toward him with a conflicted expression. "Uhm..." He stammers, measuring his options. He concludes that taking a bath together might indeed be a more efficient choice than taking turns as the other stands by. "Okay, sure."

Akutagawa nods in response, and then he cups his face in his hands, still trying to recover from the aftermath of the flashbacks.

The younger man slowly gets up from the floor and turns around, fully aware of the fact that he will need to undress in order to join Akutagawa in the bathtub. He sucks in a sharp breath and thumbs at the hem of his white T-shirt. With one swift motion, he raises it above his head and takes it off. He then hesitates for a moment to unbutton his pants. He shakes his head, Akutagawa needs him. So, with newfound determination, he clumsily takes them off. The socks follow, and then he pauses at his boxers. He throws an embarrassed look over his shoulder, but Akutagawa hasn't moved, his face still covered with his hands.

"I'm almost done..." Atsushi announces to reassure him that he will be by his side again soon.

"Okay..." The reply comes out muffled by his palms.

Atsushi briefly closes his hands into fists, trying to form some semblance of resolve more than anything else, and then opens them to grab at the waistband of his boxers. Ok, fuck it, he's doing this. He swiftly lowers them off his body and steps out of them. He then turns around, attempting to cover his body in embarrassment with his arms. He thanks all the gods above that Akutagawa is still not looking at him, so he slowly and awkwardly approaches the bathtub and gets in, lowering himself into the warm water next to the older man. 

"I'm here." He announces sheepishly.

Akutagawa wants to reply, but instead, he is thrown into a harsh coughing fit because of all the earlier strain on his lungs. 

"Is it okay if I...?" Atsushi softly asks, gesturing toward the older man's back.

Akutagawa simply nods, hunched over the water as he still coughs.

The younger man reaches out and gently places his hand flat over his upper back, making small patting and circling motions, worry painting his features.

Eventually, the coughing begins to subside slowly, and Atsushi retracts his hand as Akutagawa brings his knees to his chest once again. He rests his forehead against them, catching his breath. 

"How are you feeling?" The younger man asks.

"To be completely honest, like shit..." The older man replies and he turns his head to look at Atsushi, his cheek now propped on his knees. 

One of the white-tipped locks of hair framing Akutagawa's face is hanging from its side, covering his face, and the younger man instinctively reaches out but stops himself before touching it. "Can I?"

He asks for permission, and the older man takes a moment to reply, but eventually, he hums in approval. Atsushi proceeds to gently pick up the hairlock and tenderly tuck it behind Akutagawa's ear, his hand lingering for a few short moments before he retracts it. 

The older man takes a long look at Atsushi, and he wonders if he's starting to become delirious from all the emotional distress and exhaustion. His brain short-circuits at the conclusion that under the dim bathroom lights, with his skin flushed pink like that from the heat, and with water droplets glistening off his rather muscular body, the Weretiger looks beautiful. He continues to watch him raptly, unable to take his eyes off of him, taking in every scar and textured detail on his skin, trying to memorize this image to the best of his ability as he might not get another chance to gaze upon him like this again. 

Atsushi's expression slowly turns serious as he looks at Akutagawa, noticing how he's scanning his bare form so intently. He takes in a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to say. "Akutagawa..." He begins, and the older man shifts his gaze to his sunset-tinted eyes, interrupting his trance. "I'm not going to kill you when the six months are up." He releases the words from their cage, and they fall heavily against their naked bodies as the air suddenly feels suffocating.

The older man instantly averts his gaze to a fixed point on the bathtub, his mouth pressing into a thin line. Long seconds of complete silence follow until Akutagawa whispers, "Why?" his voice raspy.

Atsushi looks at him with gravity. "Because I can't... not anymore... not after everything. I don't want to. If you still wish to have the battle, I will indulge you, and then..." He sighs before he continues. "...you can put an end to me like you want to. But I can't fight you with deadly intent anymore." 

Akutagawa suddenly raises his head from his knees and gazes in his direction, wide-eyed. He realizes that the Weretiger is not joking, and that alone terrifies him. His mouth hangs open for a few seconds as his lips are unable to produce the words he wants to say. "I..." 

Atsushi's brows furrow as his mouth curves into a bittersweet smile. "You're going to say that there's no point in killing me if I'm not fighting back, right? I will fight back with all I have, just not with the intent to kill you. So don't hold back because of that. Do as you wish." He pauses, then adds under his breath. "We made a promise after all."

Akutagawa is hit by a wave of pure, unbridled rage at his words, and with newfound determination, he begins to speak. "You damn fool... You-" He can barely word things from the anger. "You and your self-sacrificing, almost borderline-suicidal tendencies. Did Dazai-san rub off on you that badly?" Atsushi looks at him, shell-shocked, but Akutagawa is not finished. "You're not a fucking martir, what do you think this would even accomplish? I-" He stutters in his fury. "Who says that I want to kill you anymore either? Stop assuming things with that fucked up brain of yours that keeps putting others above your own self all the time." He pauses to inhale deeply. "It's wrong." He ends the rant as he scowls and breathes sharply. 

Atsushi's mouth hangs open, unable to form any sort of sound. He suddenly reaches out with his hand to cover the upper half of his face as his brain begins to process all the words Akutagawa has spat in his way. "I- I'm so sorry. Uhm..." His voice cracks as he speaks. "I think I need a moment..."

"Fine." Akutagawa replies, still somewhat exasperated. 

The younger man's lips press into a thin line as he starts to lightly tremble, and then warm tears begin to pour from his eyes. Akutagawa looks at him, not understanding his reaction. 

"Why are you crying? I surely must've said worse things to you in the past, and it did not elicit this sort of response."

More tears drip down Atsushi's face as he keeps covering himself with his hand, unable to face him. "I'm so sorry, Akutagawa. I didn't consider your feelings before I spoke. I should've asked." He suppresses a sob. "I didn't know that... you don't want to kill me anymore either..."

The older man sighs, his brows furrowed as he watches Atsushi. "Can I touch you?" The words echo against the four tiled walls of the bathroom and in the younger man's brain cavity as he tries to process them. He ultimately decides to nod slowly.

Akutagawa reaches out and gently pries Atsushi's hand away from his face, he then lowers it in the water between them and interlocks their fingers. With his other hand, he begins to wipe the tears away from his eyes. "Stop crying, fool." He whispers, and his voice doesn't hold the slightest hint of annoyance or anger anymore. Atsushi's ears turn red at having Akutagawa display this simple, soothing act towards him. He doesn't need to hear it because he knows he has already been forgiven for his lack of consideration, and that alone fills his heart with warmth.

Atsushi eventually stops crying, and Akutagawa retracts his hand from his face but still keeps their fingers interlocked underwater. 

"To be honest... I've been having nightmares." The younger man starts confessing. 

"Yeah, me too." Akutagawa replies monotonely.

A few moments of silence pass.

"Is this the point where we also mention what they are about?" Atsushi tests the waters of the older man's willingness to open up.

Akutagawa sighs. "We both already know, so why would I put myself through that embarrassing ordeal willingly?" He looks at him as he still holds his hand.

The younger man gazes back. "Uhm, I don't know... to communicate?" 

Akutagawa scoffs. "Shut up. I want to get out of here before my whole body turns soggy."

"Then maybe tomorrow over tea?" Atsushi gently insists while smiling sheepishly.

"Fine. Tomorrow over tea." The older man gives in.

Atsushi hums as he thinks for a few moments about how to formulate what he's going to ask next and ultimately decides to be direct with it. "Can I wash your hair and back?" 

Akutagawa looks at him with a quirked brow. "If you wish." He pauses for a moment, measuring his words. "I can do the same for you." 

"Sure!" The younger man replies, beaming with excitement at the proposition. 

The older man slowly lets go of his hand so he can reach out to the corner of the bathtub for the shampoo, hair conditioner, and body wash.

Atsushi looks at the bottles with curiosity. "Wait, what is each one for...?"

Akutagawa stares at him in shock. "What do you mean by that?" He stops himself from saying something awful before adding. "Weretiger, what do you clean yourself with?"

"Uh, soap?" The younger man states honestly.

Akutagawa is speechless. 

"What? Is it that bad?" Atsushi asks as he starts to turn red from embarrassment.

"Could be worse, I suppose..." The older man shakes his head in disbelief. "Anyways, this one is for your hair, this one you use on your hair after you rinse the first one, and this is for your body." He shows each bottle in order as he mentions them.

Atsushi nods along, taking in all the new information.

Akutagawa places the bottles on the edge of the tub next to him and then slowly turns around with his back facing Atsushi. "You can get started."

The younger man stares at Akutagawa's back for a few long seconds, taking in all the scars marring his pale skin. He decides to shift his focus on his raven hair for now. He first gets it wet and then turns to the shampoo bottle, pouring a moderate amount of the product into his palm. He starts working it through Akutagawa's hair, making sure not to get any of it close to his eyes, even though he can tell that the older man has them shut already just in case. He begins carefully massaging his scalp in circular motions, watching in awe as the shampoo bubbles up and foams. He truly cherishes this moment with all his heart, having Akutagawa be so docile and allowing him to do this for him and even offering to do the same in turn. It's another rather intimate situation that they find themselves in, and Atsushi can't help but smile. 

"Weretiger, I can feel you grinning like a fool. It's giving me the creeps." The older man suddenly breaks the silence.

"Wow! Do you have eyes in the back of your head of something?" Atsushi jests as he pretends to actually search between Akutagawa's hair strands for a pair of extra eyes.

Akutagawa lets out a dramatic, exasperated sigh in response. And Atsushi just laughs in turn, proceeding to rinse out the shampoo from his hair. He grabs the bottle of hair conditioner like Akutagawa had previously explained and repeats the same steps he did with the shampoo. He slowly applies it to his hair and observes the black locks starting to detangle. He figures this must be what this product is meant for, so he tenderly starts running his fingers down from the top of Akutagawa's scalp, gently undoing any knots that he runs into. The older man instinctively tilts his head back, giving him better access, and Atsushi's heart almost skips a beat at the thought that he must be doing a good job for him to react this way. 

"You can leave the conditioner in my hair for now. Rinse it after you're done." The older man instructs with a soft tone.

"Oh, okay!" Atsushi replies, and he shifts his attention to Akutagawa's back once more. He inspects all the scars with curious eyes: some are clear knife stabs or slashes of some sort, others look more like surface scrapes from impact, and one in particular, located on his shoulder, stands out as a clear old gunshot wound. He shudders at the thought of how much pain Akutagawa must've endured and can't even imagine the healing process he had to go through as under Rashomon he is a regular human, not some beastly tiger that can heal himself even from cut off limbs like himself. He shakes his head and grabs the bottle of body wash, pouring a generous amount in his hand.

He begins to spread it slowly on Akutagawa's skin with feather light touches for fear that any of the scars could still hurt. He watches the forming suds as his fingers tenderly keep tracing the old scars with equal parts care and reverence. His brows furrow in concentration as he continues this ritual of kindness. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Atsushi wants to believe that this is his atonement for all the times that he himself injured Akutagawa and caused him pain. So he wants to treat him with the utmost amount of softness possible, at least in this moment. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a sudden, tense shiver running down the surface of Akutagawa's skin and a suppressed gasp escaping the older man's mouth. He halts his movements. "Does it hurt?" He decides to check in.

A few moments of silence pass before he finally gets a reply. "You're... being too... gentle." The words come out of Akutagawa's lips in barely a whisper, strained and tinged with embarrassment.

"Ah, uhm... are you perhaps... ticklish?" Atsushi asks awkwardly.

"Yeah, when you-" touch me like that. - Is what he stops himself from saying as his brain realizes just in time how it would sound. "Do it properly, I'm not made of glass." He replies with a shaky sigh.

"Okay, okay, sorry." The younger man computes the command and starts to apply more pressure as he rubs his skin with the body wash. He carefully massages his back with his palms and fingers until the soapy foam reaches every part of his skin. Atsushi then grabs the shower head and rinses everything out from the top of his head down to his lower back. 

"All done!" He announces happily. 

Akutagawa turns around to face him, his skin flushed pink from the hot water, and with a swift motion of his hand, he slicks his wet, raven hair backwards. Atsushi stares at the whole view, completely stunned, undeniably getting butterflies in his stomach. 

"What are you waiting for?" The older man questions Atsushi.

"Sorry?" He replies, completely lost.

"Turn around, fool. How am I supposed to wash you otherwise?" 

"Ah, you're right..." The younger man states, lost in a daze, still unable to process his feelings. He half-heartedly turns with his back towards Akutagawa, regretting the fact that he won't be able to look at him anymore. 

Akutagawa proceeds to wet his hair and then gets started with the shampoo. His movements are precise and come in a steady rhythm as he works it in Atsushi's hair. He presses his slender fingers on his scalp and scrubs with just the right amount of pressure, making sure to get every spot, such as behind his ears and his nape. The younger man has his eyes closed as he relaxes under Akutagawa's ministrations. He makes a circular motion with his fingers over a certain spot, and suddenly, a small involuntary rumble escapes Atsushi's throat, more akin to a purr than an actual groan of pleasure. It makes Akutagawa pause in confusion. 

"Sorry, it feels nice." Atsushi states with a shy chuckle.

The older man blinks twice, processing the information, and repeats the previous motion. To his surprise, Atsushi rumbles again. 

"It's like you have a button right here." He states matter-of-factly before doing it again and getting the same response. "Fascinating, truly."

"Shut up! I'm not a toy!" The younger man protests. 

Akutagawa finally stops teasing him and rinses out the shampoo. He then applies the hair conditioner in his silver locks, carefully working through any knots that he runs into. 

"I can tell that you never used this sort of product before, your hair is a mess. You should take better care of yourself." He speaks his mind out loud, and he doesn't even realize how much care those simple words carry. 

Atsushi ponders what he said for a few moments before replying. "I think that last part applies to the both of us." 

"I suppose you're not wrong." Akutagawa concedes as he gingerly picks up the longer lock of Atsushi's bangs, containing the single black stripe in his hair, and combs it with his fingers to make sure it's detangled. 

He leaves the hair conditioner in to do its job as he starts on his back. He begins to work the body wash on Atsushi with his palms. Akutagawa is caught completely off guard by the view of his back muscles, tensing then relaxing under his touch. He can't help but stare in awe as he follows their movement, mesmerized while he continues to massage the product on Atsushi's skin. He uses the suds that now cover his whole back to run two slender, experimental fingers down his spine slowly. From the base of his nape to his lower back, he glides them down and watches, hypnotized as each muscle tenses and relaxes one by one where his fingers pass. Atsushi doesn't mind Akutagawa's touch for one bit, so he doesn't interrupt whatever he's doing. This is the first time someone has washed his hair and back, so he treasures every moment of it greatly. 

Eventually, the older man finally wakes up from his trance because he remembers the leave-in time for the hair conditioner, which has probably passed quite a while ago. So he grabs the shower head, rinsing everything off of him.

"I'm done." He announces.

"Thank you Akutagawa!" Atsushi turns around and beams with happiness. 

The older man nods. "You're welcome. We should finish washing up and head to sleep."

Atsushi replies with a joyful hum of approval. They proceed to pass the body wash between themselves as they start cleaning their bodies in silence. By the time they are done, the bathroom has turned into a battlefield of its own. Where the attacks are passing glances and the wounds are body parts that they ended up unintentionally seeing of each other. And although the air is filled to the brim with awkward tension and embarrassment from both sides, there's also a feeling of newfound connection and mutual understanding brought in by the simple act of witnessing someone in their most vulnerable, naked state.

As they get up from the bathtub and step out onto the cold, tiled bathroom floor, there's an unspoken sentiment of acceptance between them like never before. Akutagawa goes to the cabinet and pulls out a pair of extra towels, handing them to Atsushi. They pat themselves dry before putting on bathrobes and finally leaving the bathroom. 

"Follow me." The older man walks ahead through the darkness, leading Atsushi to the bedroom. He switches on the nightstand light before turning to face him. "What would you like to wear to sleep?"

Atsushi lets out a big yawn before replying. "I don't know... anything comfortable will do."

Akutagawa steps to the wardrobe and briefly rummages through it before pulling out an oversized black hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants. He hands them to the younger man. "Is this good?"

"Yeah, they are perfect. Thank you." Atsushi replies and then slowly turns around, with the intent to start walking out of the room. 

Akutagawa takes notice. "Where are you going?" He asks as he looks at him.

The younger man glances over his shoulder. "Uhm, to sleep on the couch?"

Akutagawa stares in his direction with a dumbfounded expression. "Why would you do that?"

Atsushi blinks a few times before replying with a flustered tone. "Do you want me to sleep with you?"

"Is there a reason not to?" The older man asks as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Atsushi nervously scratches the back of his head. "Ah, sorry, I didn't know if you wanted that or if it was okay for me to do so..."

Akutagawa sighs. "Just ask, fool. Get dressed, and let's go to sleep." 

The younger man complies, walking to the other side of the king-sized bed. He takes off his bathrobe and places it on a nearby chair, then proceeds to put on the clothes that Akutagawa handed him. He happily arrives to the conclusion that they fit him perfectly while also feeling very comfortable against his skin. By the time he is done getting dressed and gazes in Akutagawa's direction, the older man seems to have changed as well, donning a pair of black silky pajamas. They waste no more time and get in bed. Akutagawa then flips the blanket over their bodies and turns off the light.

They both lay face up in the silent night as wisps of moonlight spill out through the window of the room. Minutes pass, and Atsushi lets out a sigh as he tries to relax his body against the mattress. Everything feels nice and pleasant: he had a good meal, a warm bath, and now he's laying in a cozy bed, wearing comfortable clothes. The circumstances have all perfectly aligned for him to probably get the best sleep of his life, and yet his mind is still bothered by one question. Like a festering wound, it pulses in his brain as his heart aches with each dreadful beat, suffocated and confined in its bony cage. With great effort, he decides to speak. 

"Akutagawa?" He whispers, scared of waking him up.

"Yeah?" The delayed answer spills lazily from the other man's lips.

Atsushi slowly turns on his side to face him, his lips are pressed into a thin line, and his eyes hold a look of great fear, akin to the last lively stare of a deer struck by the headlights right before impact. The wound grows, and it's eating him alive with each passing milisecond.

Akutagawa glances in his direction and notices his expression. He turns his body towards him, inspecting his face with his gaze. "What is it? You can't sleep?" 

"Akutagawa..." Atsushi starts once again and pauses as his bottom lip anxiously quivers.

"Yeah?" The older man replies, his own heart beating with trepidation.

"What are we?" The words spill from his lips, barely a whisper, as he gazes into Akutagawa's eyes, searching for answers. The response might be simple: craddled by the darkness, they are nothing but two broken men sharing a bed and a warm blanket. But somewhere deep inside himself, he doesn't want that to be the case. 

The question rings loudly against the older man's eardrums, and it pierces right into the fleshy core of his soul, perhaps committing the deadliest sin with its manifestation. He looks full of shock at Atsushi. The silence that follows stretches out painfully for both of them as they look into each other's eyes through the heavy shadows. Akutagawa takes a deep breath, trying to navigate the flood of information passing through his mind as he takes in everything that transpired between them. The younger man watches him with desperation, as if his life depends wholly on him in this moment. Akutagawa is fully aware of the fragility and vulnerability that Atsushi is experiencing, and he thinks it must be a bit selfish of the fool to place the burden on him like this, but he also recognizes the amount of trust and inner turmoil that went into the question.

Suddenly, everything becomes clear as somewhere in the recesses of his mind, between violet-golden hues, sacrifices, and soothing touches, he finds the perfect answer.

"Partners." He speaks the word, and he can't help himself as its production into whispered sound is accompanied by a smile.

Atsushi's eyes widen in surprise, and his heart skips a beat at this ultimate display of violent softness. He reaches his hand out and places it between them with its palm up, an open invitation. Akutagawa doesn't waste any time and slowly raises his own hand out of the blanket, interlocking their fingers.

"Partners...hmm." Atsushi looks straight into his eyes. "I like the sound of that." He returns the smile, holding his hand like his next breath depends on it. 

Akutagawa tightens his hold in turn and releases a sigh of comfort. 

They keep gazing into each other's eyes, and slowly but surely, their eyelids grow heavier with each blink. As much as both of them would like to keep fighting the sweet, calling voice of slumber in order to immortalize this moment, they are powerless in the face of the safety and weariness. They finally succumb to sleep.

Akutagawa slowly blinks awake. The first thing that he notices is that the room is brighter than how it usually looks in the morning. He must've slept close to noon from how much light is spilling inside from the window. The second thing he notices is that he is wrapped in a comfortable cocoon of warmth. The third thing he notices is very light snoring right behind him. He continues to blink blearily, trying to come back to proper awareness. He attempts to slightly shift his body and to his surprise, he concludes that someone is holding onto him, arm snaked around his waist. Akutagawa does his best to wake his brain up and figure out what is going on. Images of the Weretiger blossom in his mind, and he starts to remember yesterday's events one by one. 

Oh. Right, they went to sleep in the same bed after all of that. But that didn't explain why the Weretiger was currently cuddling up to him, he didn't remember falling asleep in this position. His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Atsushi's grip shifting, his hand slipping under Akutagawa's pajama shirt. He shivers at the contact, the fool is still snoring and unaware of what he's doing.

"Weretiger." His voice comes out raspy from sleep.

No response, but the snoring has stopped.

"Weretiger." He repeats, his voice tinged with slight panic.

He feels Atsushi shift briefly, only to grab onto Akutagawa tighter, closing in on any sort of space that was left between them. 

The older man is speechless as he fights back another involuntary shiver.

"Mmm." A murmur finally comes from Atsushi's throat as he buries his face into the back of Akutagawa's head and rubs his face in his hair.

"Fool, wake up, what are you doing?" Akutagawa speaks, equal parts flustered and exasperated.

"You smell nice." Atsushi's voice comes out muffled by the older man's hair.

Akutagawa sighs defeteadly. He hadn't expected the Weretiger to be this clingy, although he should've probably guessed. 

"Unhand me, fool." He tries one last time, his voice barely having conviction anymore. 

"Not my name." Atsushi mumbles into his hair.

Akutagawa blinks in confusion for a few seconds. "What?"

The younger man slowly retracts his hand away from Akutagawa's waist, eliciting another shiver from the man, then takes his face out from his hair. 

"If we are partners, shouldn't we be at least calling each other by our names?" Atsushi asks with a pout. 

Akutagawa turns on his back and looks at the younger man with a conflicted expression. "Do you want me to do that?"

Atsushi gazes at him and nods. 

Akutagawa seems to ponder the whole ordeal for a few long seconds before agreeing to the proposition. "Alright, I shall address you by your name from now on." He pauses before adding. "You're still a fool, thought."

Atsushi looks at him with excitement. "What about me? Can I call you by your name?"

"Do as you wish." The older man replies plainly.

Atsushi beams with happiness. "How did you sleep, Ryuunoske?" The words roll off his tongue with softness as he props himself on one elbow to take a better look at Akutagawa, getting back into his personal space.

The older man looks at him wide-eyed for a few moments, trying to process everything. "I slept well, I assume you did too?" He instinctively reaches out with his hand to tenderly comb through Atsushi's messy bangs.

"Mhm." The younger man hums in approval. "No more nightmares." 

"How did you end up on my side of the bed, though?" Akutagawa retracts his hand as he asks curiously.

"Ah, that..." Atsushi pouts once again. "You kept stealing the whole blanket for yourself in your sleep!"

The older man looks at him as he registers the information, then averts his gaze in embarrassment. "Oh... I see."

Atsushi chuckles at the sight. "It's okay, though." He proceeds to slowly lower his head on Akutagawa's chest, happy to be close to the man for a bit longer.

The older man doesn't fight it, instead, he reaches out with his hand and begins gently stroking Atsushi's hair. In turn, the younger man snakes his arm around Akutagawa once again, cuddling up to him.

"Atsushi?"

"Yes?"

"Let's sit like this for a while more."

"Okay."