bsd oneshots from ao3

(Sskk) Show and Tell

(TW > SUICIDE MENTION AS WELL AS ABUSE AND CHARACTER DEATH)
Atsushi and Akutagawa had been dating for two months now. Two months was all it took for Akutagawa to go from loving and soft, to harsh and violent. Although he would never admit it, his lover's dark moments terrified Atsushi; he was scared of how much a man could change in two months. Atsushi had grown accustomed to the violence, as much as he didn't want to, he had to adapt. It was how he had survived in the orphanage and he had been ignorant to believe the outside world would be any different. Meeting Dazai had been lucky; the man, whom he now saw as his mentor, had been the calm before the storm. He had saved Atsushi and helped piece him back together so that when he fell and crashed again, he would not fall into so many pieces.

Atsushi had grown used to how Akutagawa would cuddle into the crevices of his back in the mornings while the younger would make lunch for the two. A lunch which Akutagawa never ate. Atsushi would humm a tune and Akutagawa would stand there peacefully, wrapping his arms around Atsushi's waist. He would kiss the younger man's neck and go to the bathroom to complete his morning routine before leaving for work.

Atsushi had grown used to how a single misspoken word, said in a moment of anger and tears, would cause the older to grab a fistful of the grey-haired man's locks and throw him against the wall, as if he was nothing but a ragdoll. He would lose control of his ability and Rashoumon would pierce Atsushi's flesh and bones, digging into the wall behind him. Red would stain the yellow walls and the wooden floor and Atsushi would shiver as he felt the cold liquid run down from his forehead. Byakko always healed Atsushi. There were no visible scars left and Atsushi would clean the walls and mop the floors once his lover had left, scrubbing till his hands were sore and the red was nowhere to be seen. When Akutagawa would come home after work, he would bring a box of sweet, caramel chocolates and tell his partner how much he loved him. How he was just tired and how Atsushi had to understand that he was just struggling with a lot at work. He would be better. Atsushi hated caramel.

"Work's been stressful lately, you know how it is. Forgive me, love?"

And Atsushi would forgive him. Every night since the cycle started. At first Atsushi had got mad at him, he argued that he worked hard too but had never used it as an excuse to lash out at Akutagawa. Atsushi would shout at him late into the night about how he was human too, Akutagawa's excuses didn't excuse his actions.

"Why is it so hard for you to understand? I'm just like you! If I were to get cut, I would bleed, Akutagawa. I'm not fucking invincible! And neither are you."

But the blood stains were not to be seen, so they were forgotten. The wounds would heal and never be seen again, so they were forgotten. Atsushi would say that he had forgiven Akutagawa, and their 'arguments' were forgotten.

In the short walks to the armed detective agency, Atsushi could feel the judgemental gazes of people around him. He felt like a doll on display in a toyshop, forever stared at and admired from beyond his glass cage. Yet cursed to be forever left to sit and look pretty. Alone on the empty, dust-collecting shelf. Never to be freed unless he begged and sucked-up to those in power.

Atsushi loved Akutagawa. He adored him and was so, so frightened that one day the black-haired man would realise his faults and chuck him away. Like the headmaster had done. Just like a banana peel, to rot and wither on the dirty streets of Yokohama. He didn't want that, not at all. So he would allow Akutagawa to get angry, to get bitter and violent, because the pain was better than him leaving. Atsushi could deal with pain - it was something he had known all his life. But rejection? Rejection was something Atsushi could not deal with. It burned and fueled his self-hatred. If he wasn't loved, he wasn't worth life.