Chapter Text
When it was all set and done and Ryūnosuke could finally return to his apartment, he was practically dead on his feet. He barely made it to the bed before all but collapsing from exhaustion. He felt like he could sleep for weeks, years even. He didn’t even bother taking off his coat before he let his heavy eyelids drift close.
And his eyes snapped open again a few moments later. As soon as he had felt himself drifting off, a haunting image had filled his mind, that of a man with silver hair and sunset-colored eyes disintegrating into nothing. Okay, fuck. He really did not want to be thinking of that right now- or anything else for that matter. He just wanted to get some rest. Was that too much to ask for?
He stared at the ceiling unseeingly until his heart rate, which had spiked, slowed to its normal pace before closing his eyes again.
Several beats of silence passed before Ryūnosuke jolted, this time instinctively bringing a hand up to the pink scar decorating his throat. He had again seen Nakajima, but instead his yellow and lilac eyes were wide with horror as he watched blood spurting from Ryūnosuke’s fatal wound at an alarming rate.
So his mind was plaguing him with visions of not only the Weretiger’s death, but his own as well. Great. Just great.
Sitting up and ignoring how doing so suddenly made him a bit lightheaded, he silently contemplated what to do. Sleep wasn’t an option—not right now at least—so he may as well take care of one of his other needs which weren’t well kept during his stint as a vampire. Showering was a good choice, but the thought of being completely bare without his ability to protect him right now was… Well, he could put that off until tomorrow. Perhaps he could see if there was any food in the fridge which hadn’t expired in his absence.
Somehow finding the strength to get up, Ryūnosuke stumbled into the kitchen. After rummaging through both his refrigerator and cabinets, the only thing he could find that hadn’t passed its best-by date was some cheap ramen he couldn’t even really recall buying. He managed to go through the motions of getting out a pot, filling it with water, and turning on the stove before he suddenly felt a buzz in the front pocket of his pants. He jumped a little, startled, before realizing it was just his phone. Leaving the water to boil, he sat down at the almost never used kitchen island and took out said phone.
The fact that it both wasn’t dead and only sustained a few cracks to the screen was a miracle, though it undoubtedly would die soon if he didn’t charge it in the near future. He unlocked it to find the source of the buzzing was a text from Gin, and a rather lengthy one at that. Right, news that he was no longer dead probably only just reached her. He’d have to meet with her tomorrow and look over her undoubtedly emotional text when he wasn’t so sleep deprived. She deserved a well constructed response which he didn’t quite have in him right now.
He had a few messages from Nakahara as well, but the notification that really caught his attention was a voicemail from an unknown number dated two days after his death. It was quite long, perhaps even longer than Gin’s numerous paragraphs, as if the other person had been rambling. He couldn’t fathom who could have sent it. Curiosity getting the better of him, he breathed a sigh and pressed play.
“H-hey, Akutagawa. It’s me, Atsushi.”
Nakajima? When did the Weretiger get his phone number? And why would he call him and send him a voice message if he already knew Ryūnosuke was dead?
“You’re probably wondering how I got your number- or, I guess you would be if you were still alive to get this, but I guess there’s no need to explain myself since you’re not.”
His voice sounded strained, like he was forcing a lighthearted tone. It was far from convincing. If anything, it almost sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down into tears.
“I uh…”
The detective must have been holding the phone rather close to his face because Ryūnosuke could hear a sharp intake of breath before he continued speaking.
“I went and saw your sister today.”
Ryūnosuke’s eyes widened slightly. He didn’t know Nakajima was aware he had a sister, never mind who she was. Did Dazai tell him?
“I wanted to return your coat to her, but she insisted I keep it since you had given it to me. I… I couldn’t explain to her just looking at it makes me feel so guilty I could vomit. Maybe I’ll try again after this whole mess is over.
“She, um, she told me some stories from when you guys were kids, and I think it helped me to understand you a little better. It wasn’t anything too personal or embarrassing, I promise! Well, I guess the one where you ate so much chocolate in one go you passed out is pretty embarrassing.”
There was a laugh, a genuine one, but it quickly faded into silence. Ryūnosuke could distantly hear the water on the stove boiling, but he was rooted in place. When Nakajima started speaking again a few moments later, his voice was trembling.
“Why did you do it? Why did you sacrifice yourself for me? I just- I can’t understand it. Even if you didn’t have much time left because of your illness, wouldn’t you rather spend that time with Gin? She- you didn't even tell her about it.”
It sounded like an accusation and Ryūnosuke winced, guilt eating at him. He couldn’t imagine how she must have felt hearing something like that secondhand.
“When I asked about it, she had no idea what I was talking about. Why tell me and not her? She was so- she couldn’t stop crying when I handed her the coat, and there was nothing I could do. It was too late. If only I…”
Nakajima suddenly trailed off and- oh, oh he was definitely crying now, sniffing as he went on.
“If only I hadn’t left you there to die.”
For several moments, the only sounds that could be heard from the phone were shuddering breaths and muffled sobs and all Ryūnosuke could do was sit there and listen, dumbfounded because- because Atsushi Nakajima was crying over him. He had visited his sister and got his number to leave left him a fucking voicemail of all things and had cried over his death. He had grieved Ryūnosuke like they were close, like the mafioso was worth grieving.
He supposed they were close in some way, even if he didn’t really understand how it happened or what label would even be appropriate for their relationship. Enemies seemed a little outdated at this point, but they were quite a ways off from friends. Allies, maybe? That seemed closer, but would Nakajima really mourn one of his allies like this? With how emotional and overly empathetic he was, that actually was plausible.
But would the Weretiger die with a smile for someone who was no more than an ally to him? Would he call them a fool and look at them with those sunset-colored eyes like they were more than worth dying for?
The recorded heavy breathing evened out and the last thing said before the voicemail ended was:
“I’m sorry.”
It was too vulnerable, something Ryūnosuke was definitely not supposed to have heard. It was kind of pathetic, but had Ryūnosuke not also said and thought pathetic, vulnerable things the Weretiger was not meant to hear after he died? He’d surely die once again this time due to embarrassment if Nakajima had ever learned that he had thought of him as ‘his ordeal’ or demanded he be returned to him.
If more time had passed between the Weretiger’s death and him coming back, if days had gone by and he had time to stew in his emotions, would Ryūnosuke not have done something equally as idiotic as sending a voicemail to the deceased? Perhaps he still could.
For some reason he couldn’t quite fathom—perhaps guilt, feeling indebted, the exhaustion clouding his judgment, or no real reason at all—Ryūnosuke pressed the call back button.
He waited for the ringing to stop and for the call to go to voicemail so he could say something he probably shouldn’t, but then something unexpected happened.
Nakajima picked up.