"I don't know how to answer. I know what I think, but words in the head are like voices underwater. They are distorted."
- Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit
-ooo-
He kept his lips pressed tightly together on the walk from the Man-Tiger's place to the train station as if by doing so he could trap the memory of the shape of his name between them, a keepsake only he could feel.
It hadn't meant anything, had just been a strange impulse, a moment of insanity to say it in the first place, but it had felt… nice.
Revoltingly sentimental, but still… nice.
Even if it had been just the once and only for himself.
The Man-Tiger was still just the Man-Tiger, after all.
Nothing had truly changed between them even if they did… like each other.
Like.
It was such a stupid, imprecise word; he wasn't even sure what had prompted him to say such a thing in the first place.
It wasn't even true… not really.
Most of the time he didn't like him at all.
Most of the time the Man-Tiger was an irritant, a nuisance, an obstacle in his path, a stone in his shoe.
They were enemies and perhaps they were also uneasy allies, but they weren't… partners.
Weren't friends.
Weren't anything else either.
Like.
Such a simple word for something that was anything but.
Whatever they were to each other… it was nothing simple.
Nothing so soft or easily defined.
Their relationship, whatever it was, seemed fragile as a soap bubble floating through the air. They'd been brought together by mutual interest and complimentary powers and the intersecting goals of their organizations.
Beyond that… there was nothing to hold them together.
Nothing that would last.
Like….
Whatever that word truly meant to either of them, there was no permanence in it and without permanence there was no point in bothering with remembering and using something as particular and singular as a name.
So, Man-Tiger he was and Man-Tiger he would remain.
It was better that way.
The walk to the station was short and quiet, the streets emptied by the lateness of the hour or the turn of the weather.
When he reached the station the car he stepped into was deserted save an old man with a paper bag clutched in one hand, humming tunelessly as he swayed in his seat to the rhythm of the train's shift.
His fingers tingled, the cold of the night having worked its way into his bones during his walk and he tapped them against his knees as he sat down in a seat far removed from the car's only other occupant, his gaze settling absently on his darkened reflection in the window as the train slid forward towards its next destination.
He frowned at the image, leaning forward with narrowed eyes as it glared back at him uneasily.
There was simply something about it that set his teeth on edge. An undeniable certainty that something wasn't quite right that sent a queasy, uneasy feeling rioting through his stomach even though he couldn't quite pinpoint what it might be.
There were still flecks of snow lingering in his hair, sprinkled liberally across the shoulders of his coat though they'd be gone soon enough, eaten away beneath the oppressive warmth of the car.
His face just as pale and sickly as it ever was.
The shadows beneath his eyes seemed no deeper than normal.
Nothing remarkable.
Nothing that explained why his heart was racing, his chest tightening around a rising panic except….
He reached tentative fingers up to touch against his bare throat, the part of his shirt and the absence of the familiar silk of his cravat.
Gone.
Missed in the rush of redressing and left behind in the Man-Tiger's apartment no doubt.
It was such a small, inconsequential thing, but it left him feeling like a stranger in his own skin, fingers trembling and dark eyes staring back at him wide-eyed with a horror he couldn't quite feel.
How long had it been since he'd gone out with his throat left bare?
How long since he'd been so… careless?
The train rumbled, swaying as breaks were applied and a soft mechanical voice announced its arrival at another station, cool air slipping in through open doors to wind its way through the car to send a shiver working up his spine.
He would have to stop by his apartment to grab a replacement before going to headquarters.
Boss Pervert would notice the oversight, would comment on it.
That girl would laugh.
It would be annoying at best.
It was an inconvenience best avoided.
Was this just another consequence of every excuse, of every moment of weakness that he'd allowed himself in the days, weeks, months since he'd accepted that first invitation.
He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't even bother to glance up when he heard the shuffle of someone hurrying into the car, diving in through the closing doors with a yelp.
Barely even blinked at the sound of wet leather smacking against the floor and the completely overdramatic sigh of relief as the train pulled out of the station and a flurry of wet idiot flung itself into the seat beside him, close enough that their arms brushed, close enough that he could feel the cold radiating from him and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of all that familiar pale reflected in the window beside his own dark-clad form.
"You forgot this," he panted, waving the damp cloth weakly as if it were a flag of surrender.
He glanced at the station map, confirming for himself that the train was already two stops away from the station closest to the Man-Tiger's apartment.
Stupid.
He must have run the whole way.
He was damp with sweat, covered in melting snow, his shirt clinging almost obscenely to his chest and shoulders.
Foolish.
"You okay?" The Man-Tiger asked, squinting at him. "You look kind of-"
"It's snowing," he snapped, cutting off whatever he might have said and turning his glare from the Man-Tiger's reflection to the real thing and his complete lack of reasonable attire.
"Well, I didn't realize that when I left and by then I was already out the door," he fidgeted, shifting around in his seat, his expression already tensing towards a defensive frown. "I wanted to catch you so I was in kind of a hurry."
"Do you even own a coat?" He replied evenly, narrowing his eyes as he snatched the damp cravat from the Man-Tiger's fingers and turned his attention to doing up the last of the buttons on his shirt before tying the limp cloth back where it belonged with abrupt, jerky movements.
"Shut up, I own a coat. I just… it's bulky and hard to run in, but… it's fine, the cold doesn't really bother me and anyway I thought I could catch you before you got to the station. It's not my fault you walk freakishly fast," he grouched, folding his arms across his chest and sinking down further in his seat.
"I'm not giving you mine."
"I don't want yours. Do you think I came all this way to trade you your stupid dressy scarf thing for your coat? I'm fine, I'll just take the train back and it's not that far a walk and… hey… are you worrying about me?"
"Don't be an idiot. It has nothing to do with you," he snapped, excuses spiraling from his mouth faster than he could consider them. "Dazai-san wouldn't appreciate it if I let you die of hypothermia for something so trivial."
"Right," the Man-Tiger grumbled, slumping down in his seat so far that it seemed as if at any moment he might slip out of the seat and spill across the floor like a puddle of discontent gelatin. "Dazai-san."
Was the Man-Tiger pouting? Mocking him? Mocking himself?
Sometimes it was difficult to tell.
"What?" he asked, waspishly.
"What what?"
The silence stretched out long and uncomfortable, full of things unsaid and ill-defined.
Those sentiments so easily exchanged in the quiet confines of the Man-Tiger's shabby apartment seemed to have dissolved into vapor beneath the pressure of reality.
Like.
It seemed a silly thing to have said now, insubstantial and vague. As if they'd been playing another card game, another meaningless diversion to pass the time, to be forgotten the moment they passed back into the world beyond that space.
"You just… you always fall back on that. Sometimes I think he's the only reason you come around at all," the Man-Tiger mumbled, leaning into his shoulder.
That might have been true once, he thinks but does not say.
The train slipped past station after station as they sat there together, but the Man-Tiger made no move to leave or speak and neither did he, unable to quite bring himself to dislodge the comforting weight against his side or break the silence between them with another meaningless argument or inconvenient truth.
"Are you okay? Are you in trouble?" The Man-Tiger asked finally, speaking mostly into his own chest, the words barely more than a whisper.
"I don't know," he surprised himself by answering, honestly and just as softly.
He'd been trying not to think about it, it was pointless to theorize about something with so little information, after all.
Gin's appearance, the sudden summons… they could mean anything, anything or nothing.
Dwelling on what might be wouldn't change the outcome.
"Is it my fault?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Man-Tiger, you're not so important," he scoffed, muffling a cough against the back of his hand.
"Atsushi," he corrected absently.
"Man-Tiger," he reaffirmed, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back against the window.
It was easy to relax there with the Man-Tiger's presence familiar and warm beside him, easy to lose himself in the soft repetition and shift of the train around them.
"You're not falling asleep, are you?" A voice murmured, close to his ear, warm breath stirring his hair.
He blinked his eyes open slowly, bleary and uncertain of how much time had passed, to the feel of a tentative touch smoothing across the back of his hand. He glanced down at the fingers resting as if poised to flee at any moment, marveling drowsily at how dark and strange they seemed against his own.
It occurred to him that he should shake the touch away, should have lashed out the moment it had been initiated, but he found himself caught between one breath and the next, indecisive.
Was this what it was to like someone?
The sudden unexpected arrival of this unnerving uncertainty that slowed his ability to make decisions, caught him into consideration of consequences he'd never bothered to even acknowledge before.
What was he supposed to do?
What was expected?
What did he even want?
He had no answers, only question upon question piling up one atop the other until they filled all the available space within him and spilled out to dig his fingers painfully against his legs until the Man-Tiger, finally sensing the rising tension, withdrew, pulling his hand back into his own lap.
It should have made it better, should have eased his uncertainty, his frustration, but it didn't.
Maybe nothing would.
Perhaps there were some bridges that were, once crossed, impossible to retread.
That something about those words they'd spoken to each other had so fundamentally changed things between them that, now that they'd been given voice, given a name, made it so that nothing would ever be quite the same.
Made it so every gesture, every touch would feel like a code he couldn't read and didn't understand. Saying it had been so simple, but living with it, moving into the unknown that existed beyond it seemed like an impossible feat, a towering wall he couldn't scale.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have… I-I don't know what I'm doing," the Man-Tiger confessed, putting awkward voice to the similar sentiment clogging his own chest. His face was still turned in close, the words muttered against his ear, breath hot and damp against his cheek. "I d-don't know how to…"
He fell back, away, tipping back into his chair to gesture grandly, helplessly, at the space between them, at each of them in turn, at the train car itself, the stations they had passed, the old man still swaying down the row, the world in general, maybe, it was difficult to tell as he waved his hands aimlessly through the air like an exorcist attempting to banish an evil spirit. Words spilled past his lips like water from a broken valve, so quickly it was difficult to catch each individual syllable through the relentless flow of anxiety.
"I don't know how to like anyone or what you're supposed to do when you do. I was always alone before they turned me out, before I came to Yokohama, to the Agency. I don't know how to do this. Any of this. And I… I made it weird, didn't I? Telling you I like you like I did? Saying it back when I didn't… I mean it's not like you qualified it or anything. Y-You might not have even meantit like that. When I was trying to catch up to you I kept thinking that maybe all you meant was that you don't hate me anymore or maybe that you just like me like you like Higuchi-san or maybe, I don't know, tea or fighting or something. Just as a preference, nothing special. I don't know if you meant that you like like me."
"Like like you? What are you even talking about? You sound like an idiot."
"And whose fault is that?" The Man-Tiger grouched, "You're the one who confessed to me out of freaking nowhere and then just took off!"
"Confessed? All I said was that that I-" he broke off, frowning.
The train car was far too warm or maybe he was running a fever, that at least would explain the heat in his face and the recklessness nature of his actions of late.
It had been so simple to say the word in that moment, in the quiet of the apartment with inches between them, but that moment was gone and there was nothing easy about repeating the sentiment with the Man-Tiger staring at him with that stupid eager expression.
"See!" The Man-Tiger crowed, annoyingly triumphant and far too loud. "It's not easy for you either!"
"It would be if you would just stop talking about it," he snapped, even though it probably wasn't true.
There was nothing easy about anythingthat had ever happened between them.
"And then what? Do we just pretend that we weren't, I mean… right before you left… it kind of felt like maybe you were going to… that we were going to, um...?" He trailed off, his face red, fingers fidgeting with the damp hem of the shirt he hadn't bothered to tuck back in.
"Nothing happened," he said, irritation guiding him to his feet to put some space between them, to stop the Man-Tiger from brushing against him every time he flailed. "Stop deciding things all on your own."
"Well, I wouldn't have to if you would just tell me what you were thinking, because it felt like something could have happened, like maybe we were going to, um, you know, k-kiss- "
"Stop acting like you know everything."
"I know I don't!" The Man-Tiger exclaimed, cutting through his thoughts and thrashing the remains of his patience. "I don't know anything, because you aren't saying anything. That's why I'm ask- "
"Rashomon."
Light swirled to life around him, the flurry of motion lifting his hair as his power lashed out to seal securely across the Man-Tiger's mouth and wound round his head to keep it secure. The sudden silence seemed deafening even though it wasn't anywhere near to complete. There was still the rattle of the train around them, his own heavy, labored breaths, the muffled indignant protests of the Man-Tiger as he tore at the cloth wrapped around his head, and the quiet, uninterrupted humming of the man down the aisle who either hadn't noticed or was completely unperturbed by the sudden power usage in his vicinity.
Still… it was better than it had been.
He just… needed a moment. Just one moment free of the Man-Tiger's incessant yammering.
Just one moment to think about what he'd said.
About what he'd been trying to say.
Because it made sense.
If he thought about all those moments that had made him feel so out of his element, they suddenly all made sense.
It was so... obvious.
Kissing.
He'd been dwelling on what they'd said, on that one poorly defined word, but it was those moments, the moments after that were the Man-Tiger's greatest concern.
Physical attraction.
That was all it was.
Hardly worth getting worked up about.
Funny that it hadn't even occurred to him to consider something so blatantly obvious before the Man-Tiger's dogged insistence on talking about what hadn't happened.
After all, he'd known things were changing between them long before he'd accidentally put such a woefully inappropriate name to the feeling.
What else could it be but a sex thing?
He wasn't ignorant, after all.
He knew about sex.
The boys had talked and sometimes he'd had nothing better to do than listen and Dazai-san had never been particularly subtle or private in the pursuit of his own amorous inclinations.
So, he'd heard and seen enough of that sort of thing in passing over the years to know that there was something of it in the roil of nervous energy in the pit of his stomach when they touched.
And he hadn't really needed to listen to him blather on about it to know that whatever the Man-Tiger felt was probably something similar.
Just as he didn't have to see the way his cheeks reddened or hear him stumble through an explanation of his upbringing to know that he knew more about this sort of thing than the Man-Tiger did.
After all, he hadn't been raised in solitary confinement in an orphanage run by a Catholics.
He hadn't the least idea what he'd been taught about intimacy, but he doubted it had been anything useful.
Of course, what knowledge he had didn't make him any more comfortable talking about it or even thinking about it, so it was possible that this was one area in which ignorance was an advantage worth having.
Or maybe it was just that he'd always liked things that were simple, straight-forward.
Things that were easily defined.
Black and white.
Life and death.
Us and them.
Simple concepts that didn't require overlong, pointless conversation to define them.
His life had been so much easier when he had simply been allowed to go about his business without question.
When he had no longer been Dazai-san's pupil, before he'd ever even heard of the Man-Tiger, during those long months when he'd been nothing more or less than the mafia's dog, everything had been… easier.
He'd been able to tear their enemies apart, destroy those who stood in their path without anyone taking him aside to instruct him on hows and whys.
He'd just been left to fulfill his orders as he saw fit.
No one had asked him what he thought or how he felt.
Nobody had questioned him.
Nobody had expected better of him.
And nobody had ever asked whether he was okay.
Not even Gin.
Certainly not Dazai-san.
It was pointless and unnecessary.
It made things difficult, he made things difficult.
There was nothing to like about any of it.
He wasn't sure why he did.
Physical attraction was hardly any kind of reasonable excuse for all that he'd done, all the mistakes he'd made, but it would have to do.
What else was there but that?
He wasn't sure why the thought left him feeling strangely dissatisfied.
He was so lost in the rambling tumble of his thoughts that when the world suddenly whirled around him, turning into a confusing flurry of motion that landed him flat on his back with the Man-Tiger's weight knocking the breath from his lungs, it took long moments before he was able to figure out what had happened. Rashomon was a tangle of snarling black and red fury around them that he couldn't quite sort out and clammy fingers squeezed tight around his own, pinning one hand to the filthy, well-trodden ground even as he flung his other arm up to press against the Man-Tiger's throat as he felt warm, damp breath ghost across his cheek.
He might have cursed as he felt them begin to slide as the train slowed, signaling their arrival at yet another station, but he wasn't sure with the Man-Tiger snarling in his ear and his head pounding from the impact with floor.
He glared up at the boy above him, wrapping tendrils of his power around his legs, arms and waist, tightening his grip even as he realized it wouldn't be quite enough to break free of the Man-Tiger's hold unless he actually took him apart.
He thought briefly about chopping his limbs off and tossing what remained out the door before he could regenerate, but dismissed the idea when he felt the Man-Tiger's teeth graze his throat, far sharper than a man's teeth would have been. The Man-Tiger's control had gotten far better over the past few months, more precise, able to take on aspects of the tiger without the usual change in appearance. Sharper teeth, nails, greater speed and strength, weight.
The Man-Tiger had confessed once, after a fight when they'd been slumped together damp with sweat and too tired yet to move, that sometimes, during the worst, most heated battles, he felt perilously close to the edge of reason, as if he were a breath away from being more tiger than man. He'd fought him often enough to know that his armor could keep his sharpened teeth from ripping his throat out, but the bruises left behind were nothing to scoff at.
The doors slid open as the automated voice announced their arrival at the station and the old man down the way lumbered up from his feet to weave past them on heavy stumbling feet as he made his way to the door. He shook his head as he stepped out of the car with a mumble that sounded like 'crazy kids', footsteps loud against the pavement as the doors slid closed behind him.
"Akutagawa," the Man-Tiger murmured, voice rough, teeth and lips still brushing his throat, drawing his attention back from the closing doors. He felt the grip on his hand loosen, the prick of sharp teeth vanish, as blue light swirled around them and the weight on his chest became markedly less. "You could have just asked me to be quiet, you know."
"Why should I bother when you never actually stop talking?" He replied through his teeth as Rashomon crackled once more around them like fettered lightning before vanishing back into the dark of his coat. "Off."
He shoved at the Man-Tiger's shoulder, a little surprised when he stood up immediately, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet before he could bother to form any kind of protest.
"Maybe I would if you just answered me instead of… whatever it is you're doing. I mean, do you really want to just pretend nothing happened that badly?"
"As if you're capable of that," he sighed, coughing against the back of his hand.
Avoidance was proving to be nearly as exhausting as simply talking about might have been.
"Well, it's your fault just saying it out of nowhere in the first place. I don't know what we're supposed to do about it or if we're supposed to do anything or if you even want to do anything or if I even want to do anything."
He didn't have an answer for any of that.
The Man-Tiger slumped back into his seat, pressing his hands over his face presumably to hide the redness of his cheeks though doing so was rather pointless since he'd already seen it.
"I just... I like you," he moaned, the syllables made muffled and muddy by the press of his hands. "You've always been completely different than anyone else. I just… you made me so mad and I hated the things you did and I thought I'd never be able to forgive you for any of it. And I just… I didn't understand you at all and then I did and everything changed. We changed and everything just kept changing and even when we were fighting it wasn't like before… it was different. Sometimes it was almost fun. The way I feel about you… I don't know if it's… I don't know what it is or what it means. I mean, I said I like you and I do, but… it's different, you're different. I don't know, I just... I want you to keep coming around at weird hours of the night to sleep over or play card games or whatever. Even if you are a terrible loser."
"Who's a terrible loser?" He grumbled, settling exhausted into the seat across from him as the train slowed for yet another station.
"Shut up, you're way worse."
"You're ridiculous."
And he was.
Maybe they both were.
But, for whatever reason, that didn't always seem like such a terrible thing to be.
Maybe idiocy was contagious.
"It is, isn't it?" The Man-Tiger sighed, yanking his legs up in front of him, perching his heels against the edge of the seat and dropping his head back against the window with a quiet thump. "I almost wish we could just, I don't know, pretend we never even saw each other tonight."
"That would be simpler," he muttered, clearing his throat. It felt as if he had swallowed something bitter, something that lingered harsh against the back of his tongue.
"Is that what you want?" His voice was quiet, weak, more mouse than cat.
He shrugged. He didn't have any answers. The entire night felt like one long, unrelentingly strange dream he couldn't wake up from.
"Okay."
He whipped around to stare at him and the Man-Tiger flinched back from the look, expression scrunching up in something like irritation, "What? You don't think I could do it?"
Finally, a question he knew the answer to, "No."
"Well, neither could you," he sighed, folding his arms tightly across his chest.
He knew the answer to that as well, found himself shrugging through it rather than voicing it aloud.
"So, what should we do? I mean, you don't want to talk about it and I can't not talk about it and we can't pretend we didn't say what we said."
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
They sat in silence for long moments as the train rattled around them.
He hadn't truly made a decision by the time the train slid into his station, but when he stood to exit he still caught a hand against the Man-Tiger's shoulder, tugging him to his feet.
If the Man-Tiger had asked what they were doing, where they were going, he probably would have left him behind, but for once he'd held his tongue and simply trailed behind him as they made their way through the station and up and out into the snow-covered night beyond.
He wasn't surprised when the Man-Tiger immediately huddled in on himself, shivering beneath the assault of the bitter winter wind.
It was a simple enough matter to step a little closer and wrap his power around them both, to coax it to consume the cold air closest to them to create a buffer against the chill in the air.
It didn't mean anything.
It was just less irritating than listening to his teeth chatter.
Yet the Man-Tiger was giving him that same wide-eyed look again. That look that seemed to say that his power, that he, was something… special.
It made him feel too aware of how little space there was between them, of the lateness of the hour and far, far too conscious of the destination he had in mind.
Was taking him there another mistake?
Another error in judgement?
He had made the effort to return his property and even though he hadn't asked him to do so… he was still grateful for it.
Even if he was considerably less grateful for the awkward conversation that had followed.
Still.
He didn't want to owe him anything.
This way they would be even.
That was all it was.
Just the elimination of the unwanted weight of obligation.
By doing this, making this concession, there would finally be no more debts between them.
He slid a tendril of cloth out to bind the Man-Tiger's eyes and was treated to an indignant squawk as he ground to a halt, fingers flying to his face to pull at the cloth, "Akutagawa!"
"I'll take you to my place, but I won't show you the way," he replied briskly, continuing on down the street without bothering to wait for an answer, letting the power that still bound them together stretch out between them like taffy, long and loose and close to breaking. "Feel free to just go home if you'd rather."
After a moment that felt far longer than it probably was, he heard the Man-Tiger's boots crunching through the snow behind him, "You could have just asked instead of blindfolding me out of nowhere."
"Don't pout."
"Don't run me into anything," he grumbled, stepping faster until he was walking close enough that he could catch his hand, warm fingers squeezing tight around his own.
And if he didn't shake free of his hold during the long, incessantly winding route he took back to his apartment building, it was only because leading him that way was more efficient.
Just that.
Nothing more.
-ooo-
NOTES:
Sex Ed: In my mind, the chances of either of them actually knowing much of anything about sex are virtually nil. Akutagawa essentially raised himself and Atsushi was the orphanage shut-in. It's doubtful that anyone actually bothered to tell either of them anything about anything. That said, one of my fondest headcanons is the idea of a drunken Chuuya attempting to give Akutagawa 'the talk' because he was convinced that Dazai would either neglect to do so altogether or that he might actually give it and give nothing but the sort of terrible advice he would expect someone like Dazai to give.
Boys: The boys that Akutagawa is referring to are the group of boys he lived with prior to being picked up by Dazai.