leo, leonis (Akutagawa x Reader)

Chapter Thirty

The journey back to the Mafia was a silent one. Y/n stalked ahead of Akutagawa, still smoking, still smelling of anger. He followed her: loyal. She lead: incensed.

Akutagawa was in a daze, their surroundings seeming to move around him rather than him through them. The day had been odd, overwhelming, confusing. He had begun it working for his old mentor, the man he had idolized for so many years, and ended it with a vow not to kill for six months. 

And the in-between, god, the in-between. He had nearly died as a result of that man, Pushkin, and his ability. Nearly been crushed to death by the slender Goncharov and his golems. He had given the Were-tiger, his sworn enemy, his coat. He had left himself defenseless so that Atsushi could defeat the opponent.

Then there had been everything with Y/n. Nearly two weeks of avoidance, of nothing fruitful in their interactions. Days of constant worry, wondering what he could have possibly done to upset her so when he had been in that dazed state. 

She had lied to him. She had tricked him, lead Akutagawa straight into her brothers arms. Yes, she had done it for the sake of the Mafia, to save the Boss's life. It still stung. 

And then, last but certainly not least, there had been her rage. The all-consuming fury was not unfamiliar to Akutagawa. He held it in his own chest and she had told him she did as well, but this was the first time he had truly see its extent.

She had wielded its sharpened edge towards him before, it was true. Most notably just a few months before, when he had found her in the training room after they had discovered the truth about her brother and his lies. That had been different. The anger wasn't for him. It was directed at Dazai, spilling out at her seams. He had merely gotten caught in the crossfire.

There was the time he was abducted as well. He had gained a slight hope from that, and her reactions to his injuries of late. The smallest flower that maybe, just maybe, she cared for him too. Not as a friend, but as something else.

Dashed upon the rocks of the aftermath of his infiltration of The Guild, the flower had withered over recent days, nearly died. This was water in a desert and he drank, greedily. His cheek stung from where she had hit him, but his chest was full of feathers. The bird perched on the branches of his ribs, singing the tune without the words. This was the chillest land, the strangest sea. He was in the heart of the storm.

Struck by a sudden, unreal inspiration, he grabbed her by the arm. She stilled, turning to face him.

"What?"

Sharp words from a sharp woman but in this moment, his skin was made of scales. It was his armor.

"What happened. What did I say, after you brought me back from the harbor that day."

"What do you mean?"

"I must have said something -- done something. So, what was it?"

She looked to the side, her arm still loosely in his gentle grip. Akutagawa took the smallest step closer.

"What did I do to make you hate me?"

He didn't mean it. He knew she didn't hate him. That reaction in the shipping container to his nearly dying, it wouldn't have happened if she did. But he knew Y/n, and part of knowing her was knowing when she needed to be pushed to say something. He provoked.

"I don't hate you." she replied, her wide eyes meeting his, "I could never hate you."

Akutagawa let go of her arm. She drew them into her chest, holding her elbows with her hands as she pressed her arms against her stomach. It wasn't the normal defensive stance she took, crossing her arms to keep others at bay. It was, in fact, rather mournful. She seemed to curl around a grief.

There was no use in false pretenses. Akutagawa dropped the mask of his approach to the floor.

"Do you have feelings for me, Y/n?"

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her eyes on the ground. She said nothing and so, he took a step closer. The distance closed to a handful of centimeters, barley two inches. Akutagawa's voice was soft, a bit breathy even, when he spoke again.

"Cause I have feelings... for you." 

Another pause, a sigh of defeat. She dropped her arms. Eyes met.

"I know."

Of course she knew. She was one of the smartest people he knew, always reading between the lines. When she interacted with the world, it was in the same way she translated an ancient text: taking what was written on the page and turning it from disjointed direct translation into the truth hidden within.

"So it wou-"

"I don't want to talk about it." she snapped, turning away and beginning to continue down the street.

Before she could make it very far, Akutagawa grabbed her shoulder, spinning her to face him once again.

"I don't understand."

"What. What is it you don't understand." she scoffed, shaking his hand from her.

There was a face of anger but at the same time, Akutagawa couldn't help but feel she was close to tears. He pressed on.

"You. I don't understand you." it was his turn to grow frustrated and he ran his hands through his hair, looking away for a moment in an attempt to calm himself down.

In his caverns of his mind that night, as he lay awake in bed, the memory came to him. In vivid detail, he recalled what had occurred that day in her office, as she'd tended to his wounds.

I can't seem to exist loud enough to make you listen, can I?

It's just... saying it makes it real. And I don't know if I can handle that.

He knew her so well, and simultaneously, not at all. She was powerful, forever shifting, a constant change. He wasn't sure if he could keep up, how much longer his stamina would last.

In the shadow of the night, the dark glow of the moon throwing patterns on the walls, he woke.

----

"His cheek stung from where she had hit him, but his chest was full of feathers. The bird perched on the branches of his ribs, singing the tune without the words. This was the chillest land, the strangest sea. He was in the heart of the storm." is in reference to Emily Dickinson's poem "Hope" is the thing with feathers - (314).

"Hope' is the thing with feathers -//That perches in the soul -//And sings the tune without the words -//And never stops - at all -//And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -//And sore must be the storm -//That could abash the little Bird//That kept so many warm -//I've heard it in the chillest land -//And on the strangest Sea -//Yet - never - in Extremity,//It asked a crumb - of me.