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Ryuunosuke wasn’t necessarily embarrassed to be autistic, but he definitely didn’t go around talking about it. It was a weakness, first and foremost, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to know of such a weakness.
The only people that he’d told were Gin and Chuuya, though he figured Dazai probably knew because Dazai seemed to know everything about him, somehow. That thought always made him a little bit uncomfortable, like it was something Dazai could use against him. He wasn’t sure how he would, but if anyone could figure out how to use someone’s autism against them, it would definitely be Dazai.
When Dazai defected, Mori had forced the higher ranking, more unstable members to go to a mafia appointed psychiatrist. That apparently included Ryuunosuke. Ryuunosuke figured Mori was scared of more members attempting to leave, and he apparently blamed Dazai’s untreated mental health problems for that outcome. Ryuunosuke figured anyone without untreated mental health issues wouldn’t be in the mafia in the first place, but what did he know?
He’d been diagnosed with autism (and a myriad of other things he didn’t care much to understand) by said psychiatrist, who was sworn to mafia grade secrecy (meaning an understanding that she’d be killed if she said a single word). Ryuunosuke knew that she’d definitely already been threatened with death several times, but he still threatened her when he got his results. It was important to him that he get to pick who knows, and he decided that almost no one would.
So when the last person he’d ever wanted to know, his biggest rival and enemy, found him in the midst of a meltdown, he almost killed him on the spot (breaking their deal and their organization’s truce) just to keep him from knowing anything.
The godforsaken weretiger had followed him home after a particularly terrible mission, and stumbled upon something Ryuunosuke had never wanted him to see.
They’d failed, let down both the mafia and the agency respectively, and while no one was dead and the world wasn’t in jeopardy, Ryuunosuke couldn’t manage to calm his anger.
He walked home, clenching and unclenching his fists. He could feel the panic and overwhelming emotion building in his chest. He was squeezing his fists so tightly that his knuckles ached a little. He kept his hands firmly in his pockets. He knew if he took them out, they would find their way to his head, pulling hair or hitting his temples.
He knew this was his mistake. He’d messed up. He’d been the one to ruin the mission for the both of them. For once, the weretiger was not to blame. No, this time Ryuunosuke’s weaknesses were solely at fault. He’d been the one who couldn’t watch his own back, causing the weretiger to take a hit for him and leaving the guy they’d been tracking an opening to escape. He’d gotten away and it was all Ryuunosuke’s fault
The weretiger had offered to walk him home, claiming to be worried about his health. Yeah right. Then he’d said that he “could tell” Ryuunosuke was blaming himself, as though he actually knew Ryuunosuke well enough to read him like that.
That pissed Ryuunosuke off almost as much as the mission had, so he pointedly rebuffed the other’s attempts at “comforting” him and stormed home.
He took deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself, as he walked. He could freak out when he got home, but it wasn’t safe here in public. But he could feel the fabric of his jeans, his cravat was choking him, and the streets were so loud.
He made three steps into his living room before he was crumpling to the ground, falling to his knees, gasping for breath and burying his hands in his hair. He fought out of his jeans and ripped his cravat from around his neck.
He grit his teeth, rocking back and forth aggressively, hands clawing at his scalp. There was so much anger at himself, at the weretiger, at the guy that got away. Ryuunosuke couldn’t figure out what to do with all the anger. He wanted to throw things, break shit. He wanted to hurt himself, throw himself around the room. He drove the base of his palms into his temples repeatedly. It wasn’t helping.
He kept doing it.
When he wasn’t hitting himself, he was trying to hold his hands away from his head, clawing at his arms with blunt nails. He was pretty sure he was crying, possibly wailing, but he wasn’t aware enough of himself or his surroundings to know. All he could feel was the all-encompassing anger, and a vague stinging in his forearms. He hoped distantly that he hadn’t broke skin. He’d done that before, it wasn’t pleasant.
Oh and he was hitting himself again. Every time he had a meltdown, he reached a point where he could separate Logical Ryuunosuke from Current Ryuunosuke. Logical Ryuunosuke would look at what he was doing and point out how embarrassing and stupid he looked. Feeling embarrassed and stupid made Current Ryuunosuke hit himself harder.
When the weretiger broke into his house, Ryuunosuke was immediately aware of how stupid and weak he looked right now. He felt idiotic for not realizing the other would follow him. Of course the weretiger would make sure he got home, that was just the kind of person he was.
Despite how dramatic and childish Ryuunosuke knew he looked, he wasn’t actually able to stop, somehow completely lacking control of his own actions. In fact, the feelings were getting worse, as now the anger had increased. He was angry at himself for having a meltdown in the first place and angry with the weretiger for daring to see him in such a situation.
The weretiger gently attempted to pull his hands from his head, and Ryuunosuke growled at him.
“Do not touch me.”
He immediately backed up and Ryuunosuke wanted to kill him. How dare he pretend to care for Ryuunosuke’s boundaries.
Ryuunosuke watched him like a hawk from his spot curled up on the ground. He took a seat on Ryuunosuke’s black leather couch, only a couple feet away. Ryuunosuke was still pulling on his hair and rocking, but the distraction was enough to stop the hitting.
Then the weretiger spoke. “What can I do to help?”
Ryuunosuke winced at the concept. Him needing help from the weretiger of all people? Ridiculous.
Still he swallowed his pride the best he could.
“Speak.”
“What?”
“Talk. Speak. Voice helps.”
The weretiger blinked at him twice and then launched into a story from his work before their mission that day. Something about Kenji (the little one?) bringing a cow into the office again (?).
Ryuunosuke knew distractions were usually key for him because it was how Gin had been helping him for years, way before he knew what it was, but the stupid weretiger’s voice helped more for some reason. Ryuunosuke hated to admit it, but Atsushi’s voice was particularly soothing. There was something about the timbre and gentle way the other man spoke, along with the general distraction of being able to follow a story, that just helped.
Somewhere halfway through his story, Ryuunosuke found himself actually fairly calm. He took a deep breath.
The only thing worse than meltdowns were the aftermaths of meltdowns. When he’s regulated enough and back to his normal mental state (not quite stable, but not unstable per say), he is left only with embarrassment burning in his gut, exhaustion pulling at his eyelids, stinging welts on his arms, and a raging headache. He’d usually sit on the ground a while longer before finally pulling himself up, bandaging his arms (he didn’t usually break skin, but the scratches stung when they brushed fabric either way), and getting himself some water for the dehydration and Tylenol for the headache.
Today he didn’t. Because today, Atsushi was there.
Ryuunosuke crawled over to where he was sitting. He would’ve walked, but he figured he’d lose his balance if he tried to stand right then. He sat on the ground next to his legs, and rested his head on his knee.
The weretiger paused in his story, but didn’t move away or say anything. Ryuunosuke felt humiliation burn hotter in his chest the longer the awkward silence continued, but before he pulled away, the weretiger spoke.
“Can I touch you?”
Ryuunosuke nodded against his thigh, and Atsushi gently stroked his hand through Ryuunosuke’s hair, picking back up with his story.
Ryuunosuke sighed against Atsushi, as his eyes fluttered shut. He’d never done anything like this. Not for anyone. But he felt so small right now, so safe. For once, he didn’t fight the sensation, giving into it, and letting Atsushi take care of him. He sighed again softly, allowing himself to rest.
They stayed like that for a while. Atsushi had finished his story several minutes ago, but when he’d asked Ryuunosuke if he should keep talking, the man shook his head. He was content to stay where he was in comfortable silence.
And they did, until Ryuunosuke decided that his headache was getting too bad and he needed water immediately.
Atsushi tracked his movements, as he moved through his own kitchen, with barely contained concern. Ryuunosuke pointedly ignored the eyes he felt on his back, as he got some tylenol out and put the kettle on, intent on making tea after.
Ryuunosuke had fully prepared them both a cup of tea with far too much sugar, joined Atsushi on the couch, and started sipping it when Atsushi finally broke whatever awkward silence had followed Ryuunosuke’s moment of vulnerability.
“What was that?”
“Hmm?”
Atsushi rolled his eyes. “Don’t ‘hmm’ me. You were hitting yourself and sobbing. If you don’t wanna tell me about it, that’s fine, but don’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
Ryuunosuke leaned back on the couch, thinking. He could tell Atsushi about it, and put the other man’s mind to ease. But this was one of Ryuunosuke’s biggest weaknesses, and he didn’t exactly want to tell his greatest rival. Could they even be considered rivals after this? Even if they were, Atsushi was also his partner, and he already knew all of Ryuunosuke’s weaknesses in battle so that he could cover for them. At that point what difference was a personal weakness rather than a professional one? In all their fighting together, Atsushi had never given the impression that he judged Ryuunosuke for the many ways he always fell short.
He sighed. “I’m autistic.”
Atsushi waited like he expected him to continue, and furrowed his brow when he didn’t. “And that… explains this?”
Ryuunosuke rolled his eyes. “Would I tell you if it didn’t?”
Atsushi shrugged. “I guess not, but you love being cryptic as fuck, so who am I to say.”
Ryuunosuke cracked a smile. “I suppose that is fair.” He sipped his tea. “Autism makes it very difficult to regulate my emotions.”
Atsushi’s head tilted like a confused dog. “Okay…what I walked in on was…that?”
Ryuunosuke growled in response. “What you walked in on was me dealing with my emotions like a child because I’m too weak to deal with them like a normal human person.”
Atsushi’s eyes widened. “Woah woah, hey. Let’s not do that. You just said that it was your autism that makes it so hard, so it’s not exactly fair to expect better emotional regulation from yourself, right?”
Ryuunosuke hated it when Atsushi was right, so he didn’t respond.
Atsushi continued on. “Besides, I think I get it now. It’s kinda like the way Ranpo flaps his hands when he’s excited, or rocks when thinking, because he feels his emotions too strongly to keep them inside, yeah? Just on a bigger scale?”
Ryuunosuke nodded, a little impressed that Atsushi had figured it out (not that he’d ever tell him that). “Yeah like that. But I don’t feel positive emotions particularly strongly, so I don’t do that.”
“That’s depressing.”
“It’s not- you know what, shut the hell up!”
Atsushi laughed, and bumped his shoulder against Ryuunosuke’s. “I’m gonna do it.”
Ryuunosuke glared at him. “Do what?”
“Make you feel a positive emotion so strongly your hands flap.”
Ryuunosuke couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. He wasn’t worried Atsushi would think less of him, but he still felt relief spread through his chest at the confirmation he didn’t. Maybe people knowing he was autistic wasn’t so bad, well at least when it was a very specific very stupid weretiger.