Work Text:
40 Steps
Akutagawa was crouched behind some crates as he listened for any remaining footsteps, he glanced over to look at the bodies piled up around the entrance of the building. One, two, three… just three people remained. Two at the north east corner, side by side, and the third just behind them. He took a deep breath as he stood up, there was a flurry of steps headed in his direction. Just as quick as he stood, all three stopped dead in their tracks, skewered by the tendrils of rashomon, leaving total silence in the warehouse. Akutagawa coughed into his hand, leaving bits of blood left in his palm. He walked over to the bodies and shoved them over with his boot. Finding the person he needed, he bent down and rifled through their pockets. He grabbed the keys, a matchbox and the note locating their enemies next drop off point for later that night. He stood back up, reaching into his own pocket and pulled his phone out. Just a burner flip phone, he dialed a number he knew by heart, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. A loud voice on the other end picked up.
“I assume they’re gone?”
“Why else would I call? To chat?”
Chuuya let a chuckle out. “Well who knows with ‘The Rabid Dog’. Maybe he has some personal issues going on that he might need a hand”
“Fuck off. If you weren’t Mori’s right hand man, you’d be dead by my hands a long time ago.” He spat through the phone.
“Aww, did the puppy get defensive because he got dumped?”
There was silence and then a loud sigh. “3:00AM, Wayfair docks. You’ll have to do this one on your own. I need to get back and take care of some things”. And with that, Akutagawa dropped and crushed the phone under his boot, opened the matchbox, lit a match, stared at it and watched it burn so carefully and beautifully between his fingers, and then tossed it in the distance. During the fight in the warehouse, he had pierced a few drums of gasoline, and in a dramatic fashion, walked out of the exploding building. The heat pushed against his back and Rashoumon went into defensive mode, protecting him from the flames.
Akutagawa pushed open the front door of his apartment, went to the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink. He sat on the couch and took off his coat and shirt to reveal a bullet wound in his side, just under his binder. It was mostly a graze, but he didn’t want to chance it. He poured the antiseptic wash on some gauze and pressed it against his side, squinting and whining slightly from the pain. Keeping the pressure on the gauze as it turned a crimson color, he pulled his actual phone out from his coat pocket. He stared at the lock screen for a moment. No messages. No calls. Nothing. He put the phone back down and grabbed the bandages from the kit, bandaging up the wound. He laid down on the couch and picked his phone back up. Still nothing. With a heavy sigh he unlocked it and opened his contacts, scrolling down to one labeled “Jinko”. His thumb hovered over the call button, before deciding against it. In a moment of rage, he threw his phone at the wall and screamed as loud as he could until he was tearing up. Screaming because of the pain from the wounds on his heart and on his side. Everything hurt. Nothing felt like it was ever going to heal… Especially not the now-dented wall. He looked at it and sighed. “Definitely not getting the security deposit back now…”
With another sigh and grimace, he stood up and went to the kitchen to grab a drink. He didn’t normally drink, but after tonight, he needed all the alcohol he could possibly get. He had tomorrow off anyway, so it’s not like he was needed. He grabbed the expensive bottle of whisky from the cabinet and walked back to the couch. Fuck glasses, fuck Jinko, fuck this stupid goddamn fucking job. He popped the cork and chugged as much as he could in one go. He set the bottle down on the coffee table and laid back down, staring up at the ceiling.
He couldn’t stop replaying the night in his head. Him and Atsushi getting into a screaming match, over… god knows what. Getting called into work on what was supposed to be his goddamn day off, by that loud nagging voice of Chuuya’s. Having to explain in the car why he was so upset because, again, that loud nagging voice wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and then getting lectured about ‘well in this business, it’s hard to have any sort of relationships, you just have to learn to accept that you’ll always be alone in this life’. As if he didn’t feel shitty enough about his ability, and his life… and his choices…
He sat up and chugged some more, feeling the warmth down to the pits of his stomach.
“If you start to think, drink.” Akutagawa recited the words his old mentor always said and gestured the bottle towards the dented wall.
That stupid piece of shit, leaving the Port Mafia, thinking he was too good for it, and then fucking off with the ADA. Dazai could burn in the deepest depths of hell, but he’d probably enjoy that.
Akutagawa grabbed the pillow next to him, screaming into it, until his face felt wet and he couldn’t breathe any longer. He pulled the pillow back after a couple of minutes and realized how wet it was from his tears and snot. He wiped his face off and picked his phone back up. Everything was blurry and felt numb as he unlocked it and clicked the call button on the Jinko contact.
One ring… two rings… three rings… four..? He never let it ring for this long before… He pulled the phone back, about to hang up when he heard a small “Hello?” from the other end.
“Jinko..?”
“Ryuu.. What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry… I need you.” He hiccuped and sniffled between words.
“Apartment?”
“Yeah..” there was another loud sniffle before Atsushi said ‘okay’ and hung up.
He picked the bottle back up and downed even more. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to be alone, or hurting, or tired. He just wanted Atsushi and nothing else mattered anymore.
Akutagawa laid back down on the couch, staring at the front door for a few moments before closing his eyes.
He opened them to the sound of the front door unlocking and saw a familiar face. Atsushi saw the gauze, the half empty bottle of whisky and the bloodied shirt piled on the coffee table, and Akutagawa sprawled out with his pants unbuttoned from where he clearly tried to take them off but was too drunk and still in his boots. The soft lights in his apartment usually made him glow in such a gorgeous way, but now he just looked pale, sick and helpless. He walked over and knelt down beside Akutagawa, brushing his hair out from his face and tucking the white ends behind his ear. Akutagawa’s face was tinged with pink from the alcohol, and eyes slightly puffy from crying.
“Oh Ryuu.” Atsushi let out a small sigh as his hand ghosted down to the bandage. He had only cleaned around the wound, so there was old, dried blood leftover peeking out from the bandage, and some in his hair, where Atsushi assumed someone got too close as Rashoumon impaled them.
"Oh Ryuu." He held his cheek and the other man just looked at him with the most pitiful eyes. "You... need a bath.." Atsushi grinned through the awkwardness of his comment.