✶ destruction, resolution ✶

★ four ★

Akutagawa was successful in his plan of evasion for about two weeks before fate decided to smack him in the face.

He never realized just how frequently he saw Atsushi until he went out of his way to avoid him, led by the painful squeeze of something sharp around his heart that he inevitably realized was guilt . He had no idea what kind of territory he was verging into, and the understanding of it only tied his stomach into sickening knots of something uncomfortable he believed would best be addressed by ignoring them. (He ignored the tiny little lighthouse beacon in his heart lit anew, ignored the tiny pang of hurt every time he consciously veered away from any crossing he could have had with Atsushi, ignored how he missed the little golden touches-)

When Gin finally weened the truth out of him, she nearly dropped the plate she was holding in her hand out of shock.

("Are you telling me you not only kissed him, but then ran away?"

"I didn't run away."

"You definitely did- what the hell, Ryuunosuke?"

"Oi, watch your mouth."

"I think you need to focus more on your own problems than my profanity, brother.")

After her verbal shakedown, she told him that he most likely needed to apologize to Atsushi, which only made Akutagawa hiss in response.

The idea of facing Atsushi after that made his skin crawl with heat, so uncomfortable and itchy and irritating that he didn't want to face it.

("That's called being embarrassed."

"Quiet.")

She refused to back down, certain and strong in her opinion, and while he didn't exactly agree, he didn't negate her suggestion either.

However, it was completely eating him away, corrosive and acidic, enough to make even others outside of Gin notice. He'd nearly screamed the one time Chuuya appeared from from nowhere to drop a hand on his shoulder in concern, too lost in his own head to realized he'd walked up from behind.

Chuuya had knit his eyebrows at the uncharacteristic flinch, asking him if something was wrong, but Akutagawa didn't deign him with a verbal response as he shook his head, wincing as he pressed a hand to his lips to stifle the burn in his chest. Chuuya hadn't been convinced, frowning, but didn't press before letting him go.

For once, Akutagawa was thankful that in matters like these, Chuuya wasn't as adept in ripping out his heart to autopsy it for what he needed like Dazai always had been, knowing when a line needed to be drawn instead of smearing it in his favor instead. (It was in these moments that Akutagawa liked this man better, always chased by the fleeting thought of how painless it was to talk without someone he didn't have to constantly prove himself to.)

There were times, of course, that Akutagawa wanted to curse Dazai's name, curse the marks he saw hidden by the edges of collars and behind ears and even pressed into the lines between gloves and skin, curse whatever understanding they had that he didn't.

(He didn't know of the blood, the pain, the hurt that comes with sharing so much of your soul with another like they did, a secret kept between those two that no one could articulate with words.)

It was moments like these that Akutagawa remembered his sister's words, her warning, of how he was a dangerously jealous person intent on remaking himself for others instead of living for himself.

It was moments like these when remembered the blips of time shattered and confusion whenever Atsushi spoke, lighting a path to a future that Akutagawa never considered.