Akutagawa hates being cold

Akutagawa hated the feeling of being cold.

He hated the uncontrollable shivering that wracked his body, the way it made every breath burn (more than they already did). So whenever there arose a day labeled with a telltale snowflake, he didn't even bother trying to go into work.

Now he peered outside of his bedroom window, fingers leaving trails in the fresh condensation. Soft snores came from behind him as Atsushi continued to sleep, unaware of the bustling city that surrounded their apartment. Six stories below, car horns honked despite the absurdly early hour and commuters made their way to early jobs carrying coffee in one hand and a bag in the other. It was strangely tranquil in a way that Akutagawa from three years ago never would have believed he'd be allowed to experience.

Small white flakes had begun to slowly drift down from the sky, melting upon contact with the window and leaving small droplets of water in their wake that moved slowly down the pane.

Akutagawa's hand trembled slightly as he pulled away, and he winced as he clutched it to his chest.

The clock told him it was but five thirty, plenty of time for him to try and grab some extra sleep, even if he did need to go to work. He laid down carefully, painfully aware of the way the sheets had lost their warmth since he'd risen the first time, now snow to his already ice-like skin. Face to face with Atsushi he brushed away small strands of white out of the others face, allowing a small smile to surface as Atsushi leaned into the touch and purred quietly. The were-tigers lips parted slightly with each breath, face fully slackened and the least tense it would be all day.

He swore that the agency treated him well, but Akutagawa knew that he was still struggling. He'd been working on a case surrounding the Yokohama orphanage recently and it was dragging up a lot of memories that left Atsushi gasping for breath in their bed night after night.

He'd never truly had the time to process everything that had happened, so he'd never developed any methods that could help him cope outside of self-deprecation and destruction. How could he when he had Dazai for a mentor.

The previous port mafia executive seemed dedicated to his new job in the light, but the scars that never faded from Akutagawa's body still made him paranoid enough that he tended to check Atsushi for injuries the moment he got home.

Atsushi always gave him one of those sad smiles whenever he did that, like it was unnecessary, but Atsushi had only known the Dazai who'd given him a home, not the Dazai who had beat sixteen year old Akutagawa within an inch of his life repeatedly and shot a bullet at his head without a care as to whether Akutagawa's ability would save him or not.

He didn't understand that no matter how much Dazai had changed on the outside, he could never change the man at his core. The man who would and could manipulate anyone and anything to aid his goals. And for right now, it benefitted him to be "kind" to Atsushi. Akutagawa had a plan in place should that ever change, but he feared it wouldn't be good enough if the situation arose. It could never be good enough.

Akutagawa blinked as a soft hand touched his face. Atsushi was awake now, eyes soft slightly crinkled in concern. Akutagawa pulled away and sat up, burying his face in his knees.

He'd been spiraling again. It made Atsushi sad when he spiraled, and when Atsushi was sad the world dimmed a little bit, and Akutagawa couldn't bear to lose more color, not before he was entirely black and white.

He hadn't noticed that his breath was beginning to pick up, heartbeat slamming erratically in his chest. He was still so cold, so, so cold.

Ryu hated the cold. It was gross and wet and he hated the way it made him and Gin all soaked.

Gin coughed quietly behind him, six years old and struggling to breathe, like every gasp of air burned her.