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It's almost morning when he wakes to a dreadful feeling— it's the cold under his fingertips that shouldn't be there. He feels the need to rush out of the apartment and find Atsushi, convince him to come back, even though there's no point. But then he lifts his eyes to the window and he suddenly remembers how to breathe; Atsushi's there, perched on the windowsill, with Akutagawa's shirt loosely thrown over his shoulders, looking so frighteningly far, but still here.
"Come back to bed," he says without thinking, voice grogged with sleep.
"In a minute."
It's always like that, Atsushi never looks at him when he says the words. He doesn't even sound surprised that Akutagawa is awake, and Akutagawa would give anything to know what Atsushi's looking at, what wakes him in the break of dawn and drives him away from Akutagawa's side. Then again he knows; it must be hard for Atsushi to be here, with his supposed archenemy. He must fight with himself everytime and come to the conclusion that he has to leave, and that he must be crazy for staying.
Akutagawa tries not to fall back asleep, so he watches Atsushi, a habit he got into because everytime they meet feels like the last. With the low light falling on his bruised thighs, he looks like a dream. He's so beautiful. He's always so beautiful.
"Come back to bed," Akutagawa whines with his face in the pillow. He knows Atsushi needs space, but he can't help himself. He can't help how the world looks clearer when the soft padding of bare feet on the floor sounds closer, or how his arms fly on their own when Atsushi climbs into bed, immediately snuggling in turn. The feeling of skin on skin is wonderful and relaxing, even when they aren't doing anything at all.
"You're so demanding," Atsushi wastes no time chiding him, "and clingy."
"Does it bother you?"
"No."
He allows himself a moment to take in Atsushi's smell, ignoring the urge to overanalyse the different tones of his voice. He smells of Akutagawa's tea and Akutagawa's soap, and it's so reassuring, so domestic. But it doesn't mean he'll stick around.
"Everytime you wake up first, I get scared that you left without a word."
"I wouldn't do that," Atsushi says, looking him in the eye, "not without a word."
Not knowing what to do, Akutagawa straddles him and slots their lips together. He teases Atsushi's lip with the tip of his tongue, and for a moment before Atsushi grants him entrance, he could swear he felt him smiling. He almost wants to break the kiss just to see it, but Atsushi's nails are already digging in his nape, so he lets himself be carried away. Atsushi's teeth are gentle on his bottom lip, his tongue does away with the anxiety, if only for a moment. When they break apart, Atsushi's cheeks are hot under his fingertips but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. And it's almost speaking for itself; I want you to be happy, it says, and all that nonsense people say when they break up. And since there's no way around it and it's a matter of time till Atsushi makes up his mind, Akutagawa had decided not to waste any of the time he has left. He'd enjoy every second with Atsushi, until the very end.
"Stay," he says, a little out of breath. "I'll bring you breakfast in bed."
"I don't want breakfast in bed," Atsushi laughs, "I want you. Stay with me."
Akutagawa thinks it's not fair that hearing Atsushi's laugh makes him want to cry— it's been so long since Atsushi said anything so affectionate, since he laughed, since he smiled. It should give Akutagawa a little hope, but he won't be fooled. It almost makes him want to start their fights all over again, but he promised himself he wouldn't do that. So he wordlessly lies on his side next to Atsushi and holds him close. He tries to forget about time, about the heartache, and about the future where he will either have a dull hollow life or hang from a rope.
"I don't want to go to work," Atsushi sighs.
Then don't go, Akutagawa almost says. But he know the ADA is important to Atsushi— who made it clear after so many fights— so he says nothing. The look on Atsushi's face frightens him, he can guess what words lie behind it. We have to stop seeing each other, eventually. We have to move on, we were never right for each other, and all of that.
"I had a nightmare," Atsushi says instead. He waits a bit, as if expecting Akutagawa to say something. "I dreamt that nothing changed, and we spent the rest of our lives like we are right now— not talking. It was awful. It is awful," he breathes out, "I hate it."
"But we're always fighting," Akutagawa whispers.
"Yes we are," Atsushi answers, "about the laundry, the vegetables, the breakfast cereals, about your job and my job, about the people who you think are giving me looks and how you think I work too many hours. We never agree on anything. But it doesn't mean you shouln't talk to me. I could never imagine a life without bickering with you," he exhales, a little surprised with himself. Even in the dark he can see Akutagawa's unsure, so he adds, "we just have to trust each other, okay?"
"You're not angry with me?"
"No."
"You're not breaking up with me?"
"What? no," Atsushi props himself on one elbow, then ends up almost climbing on top of Akutagawa when his lover hides his face. "Hey, hey, look at me, why would I break up with you?"
"You should ask why not," Akutagawa peaks from between his own fingers. His attempts to strangle his sniffing have already failed but he still won't give up.
"Come here," Atsushi sighs, gesturing at himself, because he knows Akutagawa can see him. Akutagawa complies, and how he missed the feeling of his face in Atsushi's chest and Atsushi's nose in his hair. "You're the love of my life," Atsushi says and the words make him shudder. "I would never leave you for such stupid matters."
"What about the other matters," Akutagawa murmurs, "the ones that aren't stupid."
"I'll get mad, then you'll ask me to forgive you, and maybe I will. You won't know till it happens." A pause. "And you might never know, because you wouldn't do anything like that in the first place."
"You believe in me that much?"
"With all my heart," Atsushi smiles. Akutagawa feels his face overheat and his heart swell too much that it might burst— but it wouldn't do to die right now, when he's suddenly sure where he's standing, would it. So he raises his face and goes straight for Atsushi's lips, and the kiss is everything he's been missing. The way Atsushi wraps a leg around his waist, still a bit surprised, and his smell fills Akutagawa's senses. The way he giggles and gasps when Akutagawa peppers kisses all over his face and neck. He could feel the hint of a chuckle before it was out of Atsushi's mouth. "See," he says, fist curled into Akutagawa's hair, "this is why we should always talk."