Chapter Text
It was February and cold rain was pouring down. Atsumu shook his umbrella and shivered as he entered headquarters.
“Don’t bother taking off your jacket. We’ve got a case”, Bokuto called. Atsumu groaned.
“Robbery. They stole a bunch of expensive watches”, Bokuto said.
“That isn’t our division”, Atsumu said and frowned.
“Ah yeah, the shop owner was killed and the thieves hit a pedestrian with their car as they escaped”.
Atsumu sighed. “Just a second, I’ve got to talk to Wakatoshi before we leave”. Bokuto nodded.
Atsumu walked over to Wakatoshi who was writing a report on his PC. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” Wakatoshi asked and looked up.
“I want to visit Sakusa Kiyoomi”, Atsumu said plainly.
He had thought about it for a long time, turned the words in his head, trying to find a way to phrase them. Sakusa’s trial had taken all of January until a sentence had been announced, the decision had been made fast. Atsumu had struggled through all of January avoiding newspapers, TV and radio but it was hard in a world where there was a screen on almost every corner. Wakatoshi looked surprised and then his eyebrows furrowed slightly. He had told Atsumu that he could visit Sakusa once he had proven himself and he had. Atsumu had done his best to come to work on time, he had been diligent at work and had solved three cases in the last four weeks. But it had not been enough for Wakatoshi and before Atsumu knew it, Sakusa's trial was over.
“The trial is over. Are you trying to get the case re-opened? Listen, I know that the victims’ families have approached us and pressured us to re-investigate…” Wakatoshi said cautiously. Atsumu took a deep breath.
“I need to be able to face him. I need this for myself”, Atsumu said.
“Well then, I thought you passed the psychological test to get back”, Wakatoshi said.
“I did. But – I need to be sure that I am able to look at him, so I can really – close this chapter”, Atsumu said. Wakatoshi frowned.
“That is the only reason?” he asked.
Atsumu tensed up. Could Wakatoshi know?
He had sent Sakusa a bunch of letters since the hearing. Had explained, apologised, explained and apologised. He had called the psychiatric facility and had done all he could to make sure that Sakusa was treated alright. He knew that he was the only person on this planet, besides Sakusa maybe, who was relieved over the sentence. Everyone else was just furious.
“Fine, after you’ve solved this robbery case”, Wakatoshi said. “Miya, when you go, take Kageyama with you”. Atsumu nodded.
He had trouble focusing but he managed somehow. He had to solve this robbery to see Sakusa again. He knew he shouldn’t go and visit him. He had been doing a lot better, he had put the few things that reminded him of Sakusa into a box and put it under his bed. He had changed his screensaver to a picture of himself and his team when they had went to the fox island. But he had not deleted the pictures of Sakusa. By now he did not look at them anymore.
He he had been able to sleep again without Sakusa haunting his dreams once the trial had finally come to an end in the first week of February. Sakusa was now in a psychiatric facility in a high-security ward. He had been sentenced to 10 years for the attempted murder in two instances, there was no proof for the other 13 cases. But Atsumu had been told that Sakusa would probably have to stay at the psychiatric facility for the rest of his life because he was “unstable” as they called it. Depending on his development they would lower the security status. Atsumu had lied to Wakatoshi, he was like a drug addict who claimed he could go and withstand the craving by facing it.
They arrived at the robbed shop where the forensics where already collecting evidence.
“A gun shot wound?” Atsumu asked eyeing the victim. “Wonder how they managed to get guns. Do we know yet what kind of gun they used?”
A guy from the forensics stood up and held up a small clear evidence bag. “9 millimetre calibre”, he said.
“The security cameras in this shop were covered”, Bokuto said reappearing by Atsumu’s side. “But we’ve got traffic cameras that filmed them leaving the shop”.
Atsumu nodded. “There are only two other employees. One of them arrived a bit late because of a train delay, she had the slip from the train company with her but I’m having Hinata check up on that. The other employee, Sato Yuki, he didn’t show up for work today. He called in sick”, Bokuto read off his notes.
“Kinda sus that he would be sick just the day the shop gets robbed?” Atsumu said. Bokuto tilted his head.
“Yeah, but it might be coincidence. Kageyama is running a background check on the two employees.”
When they arrived at the sick employee’s house Atsumu’s eyes fell on the number of the apartment. 304. He shook his head, he had to stop seeing memories in everything. Sato Yuki opened the door and turned rather pale when they introduced themselves as cops but he let them in.
Atsumu’s eyes fell on a bag that was standing on the dinner table. He recognised it immediately. It was the same brand that Sakusa had bought the pyjamas from. He had bought a new pair because Sakusa's were still in the evidence box and had sent them to Sakusa. He didn't know whether Sakusa had received them.
“Atsumu?”
He snapped out of his thoughts and noticed that his fingers were tapping against his leg.
“You went shoppin’ on the day you call in sick for work?” Atsumu asked acting as if nothing had happened. The guy looked anxious.
“I bought that – a few days ago. A g-gift for my girlfriend”.
Bokuto continued to ask standard questions and took notes while Atsumu walked over to the table and looked into the bag.
“Hey! You can’t just look into people’s private things!” the guy called.
“That’s a pretty expensive brand, you know…”, Atsumu said. He felt on edge. The gift inside the bag was wrapped in white perfumed paper.
“How can someone like you afford it? You might sell expensive watches but your salesman job hardly pays enough for a gift like that”, Atsumu said.
“Well”, the guy started.
“Is there a special occasion?” Bokuto asked curiously. The guy was sweating a lot but they couldn’t get much more out of him, so they left.
Atsumu slammed the door of the car shut. “He’s definitely involved”, he said. Bokuto hummed and Atsumu pulled out his phone.
“Kageyama, can you check Sato Yuki’s finances? Has he received a lot of money recently?” Atsumu asked. He heard the sound of a keyboard clacking.
“No but he has received large sums before. 2 years ago and … 3 years ago”, Kageyama said. “He worked at different companies at the times, though”. Atsumu and Bokuto looked at each other.
“Let me guess, they were all robbed?”
Another clacking sound. “Yep”.
Bokuto raised his eyebrows. “Did no one ever suspect this guy? The trace is so obvious… Let’s get him then”.
They had seated their suspect in the interrogation room and went out to get their files.
“Any plans for tonight?” Bokuto asked.
“No, why?” Atsumu asked without looking at Bokuto. He really needed to get over with this case, fast.
“You keep looking at your watch”, Bokuto said. Atsumu froze.
“Really?” he muttered.
He arrived at home at 7 PM and stared at the clock until it was 8 PM, then he made dinner and cleaned the kitchen, then the living room and the bathroom. He had forgotten to wear gloves so the cleaning agent was stinging his skin.
It took them just another two days to find enough evidence against their suspect, who had been secretly helping a group of thieves to steal expensive watches and other jewellery. He was, however, scared to give them the name of his black market contact and so it took them another three days of interrogation until he finally gave in. Atsumu hoped that his constant glances at the watch could now be interpreted as him being tired of this case. It was still rather upsetting that the case was taken from them from a special unit team that had been tracking that ring of thieves for a while now.
Atsumu hated it when cases ended like that, anti-climatic without the sense of having closed the case properly. He looked at his watch as the special unit took their suspect away. 15 minutes to 7 PM.
“Are you in a rush? Do you have plans for tonight?” Hinata asked curiously. Atsumu jumped. “Ah, well, not really”.
Hinata threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “Well, we’re all going out to drink together. Come along?”
Atsumu hesitated. He rather not touch alcohol at the moment.
“Sorry, no. I have to get up early tomorrow”, he said.
It wasn’t a lie. The case was closed, Wakatoshi had told him he could visit Sakusa as soon as this robbery case was over.
“Oh, alright, then. Good night!”
The next morning, he and Kageyama drove to the facility. The sky was of a clear blue and the plum trees were blooming. Atsumu thought of autumn and how he and Sakusa had went to see the autumn colours. He had thought that they would one day also go and see the cherry blossoms together.
They were led into a small room that reminded Atsumu of an interrogation room. They had to wait a few minutes then Sakusa was brought in. Atsumu immediately regretted coming. As if no time had passed since December, all the pain, doubts and grief were swept away by the overpowering feeling that he still loved Sakusa and wanted nothing more than for him to come back to him, into his arms, kiss him and say he was back home.
It was hard to look at Sakusa. He was wearing something like a uniform, which didn’t fit him properly. He seemed to have lost a lot of weight, his cheeks were sunken in and his hair was cut short. But no matter how different Sakusa looked and how confusing the situation was, Atsumu’s heart leapt at Sakusa’s sight. Sakusa’s lips twitched but his eyes were cold and distant. He was apparently not allowed to wear a mask. He sat down and then raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
“H-Hi”, Atsumu pressed out.
He wasn’t yet sure whether it made it easier or more difficult that Kageyama was sitting next to him. Sakusa didn’t answer.
“How are you, Omi?” Atsumu asked quietly.
“What do you care?” Sakusa said curtly. Atsumu pressed his lips together.
“What? Regretting that you didn’t testify in court after all?” Sakusa asked. “I thought you’d be there", he added a little quieter. It sounded almost hurt.
Atsumu looked up. Their eyes met and it felt like running, losing control and then crushing into a wall. Atsumu tried to breathe but his throat was closing up.
“I couldn’t –“, Atsumu started. “I know… you wouldn’t want them but you didn’t answer the letters at all”, he stuttered. Sakusa’s eyebrows raised further.
“Letters? What letters? What is there left to say? Boasting that you fooled me?” Sakusa asked coldly. Atsumu stared at him then he jumped up.
“I can’t do this”, he said and rushed out of the room.
He didn’t see that Sakusa was startled and that he turned his head to look after him. Atsumu sank to the floor outside, his fingers digging painfully into his own hair, as he was shaking with sobs. The door fell shut loudly in the silence.
“Detective?” one of the guards approached him.
Inside the interrogation room, Kageyama stood up so harshly that his chair fell over with a loud clatter.
“You hide behind some little excuse of being weak or a bit crazy in the head, but you really only belong into prison among fellow criminals. That’s exactly what you are. You’re going to spend the rest of your sorry life behind bars and if there is even the slightest chance we will get the case re-opened to prove what you did, we will. And then it’s capital punishment for you!
You don’t deserve any of these amenities that you are granted here. Know that this is all because of Detective Miya. You don’t deserve his kindness. You deserve nothing, psychopath”, Kageyama said.
“You’re not getting his letters by the way because we’re holding them back and we’ll make sure that you will never see any of them”.
Then Kageyama called the guard and Sakusa was brought away. Neither Atsumu nor Kageyama saw how Sakusa kept trying to turn around to look for Atsumu. The cold and reserved mask crumbling to reveal pure desperation but no one saw it.
Atsumu was waiting outside of the facility. His eyes were red and swollen.
“Detective Miya”, Kageyama started but Atsumu shook his head.
“Don’t tell Wakatoshi”, he just said and got into the car.
Spring went on rainy and cold and then suddenly it got warm and cherry trees erupted in white and pink. On a messy hanami with the entire team they all got drunk and were secretly glad that no one had invited Wakatoshi because they would have gotten into trouble for getting this drunk in public. Bokuto had brought along a friend, Akaashi, and it seemed that everyone was happy and enjoying themselves.
Atsumu recognised the look in Bokuto’s eyes and how it was reflected in Akaashi’s secret glances at Bokuto. He knew what it meant and he felt the tension vibrate in his bones because they were free to have something he could not. Atsumu laughed along, drank too much and only felt miserable. He thought of Sakusa. Could he have found a nice little park with cherry blossoms where they could have sat down, to be alone and enjoy the pretty flowers?
Atsumu drifted into a nice dream of him and Sakusa sitting under the cherry trees. He dreamed of Sakusa pulling him in for a kiss and a hug. Then he was abruptly woken up by Bokuto, who had let out a loud scream, which mingled with Hinata and Kageyama’s banter.
“Bokuto, please, you’re disturbing people around us”, Akaashi said and bowed his head to apologise to the groups sitting around them.
“Let’s play a different game”, Akaashi added. It seemed that Bokuto, Akaashi, Hinata and Kageyama had played cards.
“Miya, do you want to join in?” he asked politely. Atsumu sat up and shook his head.
“Nah, I’m good”, he said, his thoughts already escaping him, back to Sakusa.
Thoughts, after all, weren’t so easily put in a cardboard box and shoved under a bed out of sight, like the black pyjama and the Christmas-To-Do List.
It was April when Atsumu was called over by Wakatoshi.
“Have you visited Sakusa Kiyoomi recently?” Wakatoshi asked directly. Atsumu flinched back, he had not expected to hear that name.
“No, I haven’t. Why?” Atsumu asked.
Wakatoshi had not asked him about his last visit and Atsumu thought that Wakatoshi would have said something if Kageyama had spilled the beans on him. But Kageyama seemed to have stayed silent about Atsumu’s breakdown.
“Do you want me to visit him?” he added then.
“I don’t think it is a good idea for Sakusa to see you, or for you to see him”, Wakatoshi said.
“Just tell him. He’ll find out either way, won’t he?” someone said. They turned their heads and saw Kageyama standing behind them.
“Find out what?” Atsumu asked sharply. His heart was racing. Wakatoshi sighed.
“Sakusa sent you a letter”, he said.
“A letter?” Atsumu asked, his heart leapt.
He had stopped writing to Sakusa after his last visit. Could Sakusa have finally decided to answer his previous letters? He noticed an envelope on Wakatoshi’s desk. It was already open and the postage stamp told him it had been sent a month ago. His hands clenched at that sight. Wakatoshi had read it and had kept it from him. Had Kageyama told Wakatoshi of his breakdown after all?
“What do you make of it?” Wakatoshi asked and handed Atsumu the letter.
Atsumu opened it. It was a single sheet of paper and there was just a long line of random numbers. Atsumu frowned. Disappointment mingled with confusion.
“What is this?” he asked. He felt someone peering over his shoulder. It was Bokuto.
“So you don’t know either?” Wakatoshi asked. Atsumu shook his head but he kept the letter.
“Well, we had experts looking at it but no one could figure out what it means”, Wakatoshi said.
“Any specific reason as to why you’re only givin’ me this now? And not one month ago when it came?” Atsumu asked through gritted teeth.
Wakatoshi eyed him. “Well, the code experts had to look at it. You’re the only one who ever got through to Sakusa. If he’s got something to say, it would be to you, wouldn’t it?”
Atsumu frowned. “Well, I think after my last visit it is pretty clear that he doesn’t trust me at all anymore. So no”, he said aggressively and turned around.
He was in a bad mood for the rest of the day. He put the short letter onto his kitchen table when he got home and stared at it but it didn’t make any sense at all. Should he know what this was referring to? Sakusa had never mentioned any codes and as far as Atsumu could recall, there had been no books on codes or anything the like on Sakusa’s bookshelves. The numbers weren’t coordinates either but if it had been something this simple the expert team of the police would have already figured it out. Sakusa surely knew that the police would see this letter. So it must be something that only Atsumu could understand. But his mind was blank. How frustrating it was to send 10 letters, pages long, and only to receive a single sheet of paper with some random numbers on it as an answer.
A few days later, the number mystery still on his mind he arrived at work at the same time as the post. He saw how a large envelope was put on Wakatoshi’s desk. A quick glance at it told Atsumu that the envelope had come from the psychiatric facility where Sakusa was.
“What are you doing at my desk?” Wakatoshi said, suddenly standing behind Atsumu. Atsumu jumped.
“Ah, well, I just saw – what is this? Is this from Sakusa?” he asked and pointed at the large envelope.
Wakatoshi hesitated, he looked tense. With a dull sound Bokuto’s chair crashed into Wakatoshi’s desk as he had rolled himself over.
“When Sakusa was put there, he started to write as a therapy. So we requested everything he wrote. You know, maybe there are hints or clues in there. We still haven’t gotten a confession from him, right”, Bokuto said and curiously looked at the envelope.
Wakatoshi sighed and slit the envelope open. He pulled out a stack of paper, they seemed to be copies of whatever Sakusa had handwritten. Atsumu had rarely seen Sakusa’s handwriting but it was easy to see his personality reflected in the way he wrote. Neat and clean.
They all sat around Wakatoshi and began to read.
There was just one paragraph per page, like poems. But a quick look was enough to tell that the poems didn’t look like poems either. They didn’t rhyme, there was no pattern. But Atsumu didn’t know too much about poetry to judge whether it was a certain style. He knew that Sakusa had several poetry books but Atsumu had never really understood those either.
“I don’t understand”, Bokuto murmured.
“I guess… it’s poetry”, Wakatoshi said and flipped the page.
“Oh, oh! It’s a little creepy that one”, Bokuto said and shivered.
Atsumu said nothing as they continued to read and he knew why the other two didn’t understand. Those were memories only Atsumu would know of, only he would understand what those poems were referring to. Even if it was written in a way that was difficult to follow. How strange to see those memories through Sakusa’s eyes. Was this how Sakusa remembered him and their time together? The memories seemed distorted, fragmented.
He pressed his lips together and gulped down the tears. He couldn’t let anyone know that he knew what those poems were referring to. He was not sure yet how to think about it, he didn’t know what these poems meant. Had Sakusa forgiven him? Or had he written all those poems to rid himself of those memories? Once they had read through the poems Wakatoshi looked up and abruptly turned to Atsumu.
“So?” he asked. Atsumu took the papers out of Wakatoshi’s hands.
“I need to –“, he started and cleared his throat when he heard how hoarse his voice was. “I need to think about this”.
Wakatoshi frowned. “Is he writing about you?” he asked.
Atsumu’s fingers tensed around the paper. It was quite obvious, he thought, why would Wakatoshi even ask. So he didn’t bother to answer.
“Don’t let him get under your skin again, Miya! If I see you slack off again, I will –“, Wakatoshi said sharply and Atsumu stood up abruptly.
“Slack off! As if I would slack off”, Atsumu said disdainfully and walked off.
Atsumu took the poem collection home where he sat at the kitchen table and read them again, and again. He didn’t know why but with pencil he numbered the pages the way they had been sent and then he put them in the correct order in which all those things had happened. He carefully stacked the pages together and read it in the correct order again. He paused and looked at the last three pages. Bokuto had called this one creepy. Maybe it was.
With all those leaves
golden and red
blurred at the edges
I only saw him
how he laughed in the sun
I kept seeing him dead
the red leaves looked like blood
and my hands were dripping
tainted
the laughter frozen
because I wanted this moment forever
Atsumu shivered as he remembered their walk in autumn and how Sakusa had called him beautiful. He hadn’t wanted to take a picture. It was enough to remember it just like that. Atsumu read it again and wondered whether Sakusa felt guilty for trying to kill him and whether that had tainted the memory of a beautiful day. Or maybe Sakusa had always thought about killing him one day. But how odd of him to mention blood...
Tears fell onto the page and Atsumu turned the page with shaking hands.
I cannot tell the difference
between anger and grief
but I saw it in his eyes
anger and grief are close
like we were
they kiss each other
until they kill each other
Atsumu put the page away almost harshly and buried his face in his arms. That night he couldn’t sleep, he had read through the entire manuscript that was full of their memories but they were written as painful as they felt. Like something whole that had shattered, words and sentences sharp like broken glass, the blood still on them but clear enough to see the beauty, the love, the truth.
The manuscript had unhinged him. He had walked the line of improvement always in danger of slipping, and falling, stepping back into sleepless nights, craving, tapping his fingers because he missed old habits that weren't his, looking at pictures of a lost life. There was one page, the last one, which caused him the most trouble because if Sakusa had written that, then maybe… maybe…
Why hope? What was there to hope for? Atsumu was stupid wanting to find relief in the fact that maybe Sakusa had forgiven him.
Like the ocean
a wave crushing over me
burying me
rushing back
coming back again
fleeting through my fingers
I cannot hold him
There was a note in the manuscript, the original words had been: I cannot hold you.
How odd to see that note in that manuscript. Sakusa was someone who would have re-written everything. He had always made notes on a separate sheet, which he had used as a bookmark.
Atsumu sat up abruptly as he understood. It was 4 am as he switched the light on, sat down at the kitchen table. He rummaged his bag for his note pad and then took out the letter Sakusa had sent him. As he checked the numbers and the pages and sentences that they should indicate, his initial excitement soon evaporated. It didn’t make any sense and a number was left over. He had only wanted them to make sense. He had only wanted for Sakusa to send him a secret message only he would understand because he still hoped that Sakusa could forgive him, that he still felt like Atsumu felt.
He stared at the numbers and felt angry and sad at the same time. Just like Sakusa apparently. Hadn’t he written that? Grief and anger. So close until they kill each other or something. What did that mean? What did any of this mean?
Atsumu sat at the table until the sun rose and the warmth made him feel exhausted and dizzy. He rested his head on the table and put his cheek onto the manuscript. He tried imagining Sakusa writing those poems. He had written them for therapy. Didn’t those poems reveal his feelings? They were honest and real, one could immediately tell that. It was difficult to imagine that Sakusa would write honestly like that when he knew that others would read those poems. But who would understand those poems but Atsumu? There were just short phrases and words thrown together like a puzzle, a riddle. Just words. Atsumu sat up.
He took the letter and looked at the numbers more closely. Sakusa wasn’t referring to pages and lines, there were groups of three numbers, indicating page, line and a word from that line. And only Atsumu knew the correct order of the pages.
Atsumu pulled the note pad closer and made a new table so he could decipher the code more easily. He hastily flipped through the manuscript as he began to write the words next to his crooked grid.
“You lied but so did I. We are even”, Atsumu read.
The words were painful but he felt a strange sense of calmness reading them. Anger and grief kiss each other until they kill each other. What followed was not the feeling of death but something like acceptance. Maybe he understood it now. Then he flipped through the pages of the manuscript hoping it had the words he needed to write a message back to Sakusa. With relief he found the words and wrote the coded message on a piece of paper. He put it into an envelope. His eyes were heavy and he was tired. He would not send it by post, he would deliver this himself.
He managed to get up and staggered into the bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed and finally slept. He slept until late afternoon when his phone rang and Bokuto asked him to come to headquarters because of a case.
“It’s my day off”, Atsumu murmured.
“Yeah”, Bokuto said.
He was bad at disguising his worry for Atsumu. He wanted Atsumu to come to work because of those poems.
“I’m fine”, Atsumu said and strangely, he found that it was true. He felt fine.
“I can’t come in today. I’ve got something to do”, Atsumu said.
“You’re not going to see Sakusa, are you?” Bokuto asked knowingly. Atsumu looked at the clock next to his bed.
“No”, he said. It was too late to drive there now.
“You know what the letter said, right? Those numbers”, Bokuto asked directly. Atsumu froze.
“We noticed that he made notes like that on his other book marks, he always wrote down numbers and obviously we can’t decipher it if we don’t know what book he is referring to, but you know, don’t you?”, Bokuto said.
Atsumu stared at the wall. Of course they would also figure that out. They had looked through all of Sakusa’s possessions.
“I – I don’t know”, Atsumu said.
“Wakatoshi is convinced that you know. He thinks you also understand the poems”, Bokuto said carefully. “Are you going to tell me what the letter said?” he asked when Atsumu said nothing.
Maybe it was better not to deliver any message to Sakusa, especially not the one he had written. He ran his fingers over the numbers that he had used for the message:
I still love you.
“But I think you shouldn’t go and see him again”, Bokuto said.
“Do you?” Atsumu said coolly.
“Well, Wakatoshi thinks so. And he’s probably right. You always get super weird when there are news from Sakusa. You were in quite the state after you came back from your undercover mission. And you know, you don’t want to go and make a serial killer think that things are not settled between you two”, Bokuto said.
Atsumu hadn’t even thought about that. He had so desperately wanted Sakusa to know that he had really loved him and that he loved him still. Aside from his own selfish pain that their love would never stand a chance, he had somehow not even thought of Sakusa’s pain. He felt ashamed thinking of Sakusa crying during the interrogation as he heard that Atsumu had been with him for an undercover mission.
After he ended the call with Bokuto, he rewrote his message to Sakusa and struggled to decide whether he should send it or deliver it himself. He couldn’t see Sakusa again. It was better to draw a clear line. They were over and Sakusa had sent him a message so Atsumu could make peace with it. Now it was Atsumu’s turn. Raising false hope was not part of making peace with it. He wasn’t sure whether it was enough, whether it wouldn’t make things more difficult, more painful but he couldn’t bear the thought of Sakusa not knowing that his feelings had always been real. Was it selfish or kind to let Sakusa know that?
He watched the sun set and paint his bedroom walls red and golden. Then he gave in, called the psychiatric ward and arranged a meeting with Sakusa.
He put the phone down, stared at the clock and watched 7 PM come and go.
Epilogue: Afterglow
~
Look how I met you,
how hard it was
I returned repeatedly to meet you again
Don’t go, stay here and never let me go
Please, breathe with me
Please, take away my last breath
The last glance, the last touch
So I can leave you and not anyone else
- Nell
~
Just a few days later Atsumu was at the psychiatric facility for his meeting with Sakusa. Sakusa’s hair was even shorter than it had been last time. The curls framed his forehead nicely, however. He sat down across Atsumu.
“This conversation won’t be recorded, just so you know”, Atsumu said. Sakusa’s eyes flitted up to the security camera up in the corner.
“Are you sure about that?” Sakusa asked.
“Uh yeah, I specifically requested it”, Atsumu said.
“That’s not what I meant”, Sakusa interrupted him. Atsumu frowned.
“Are you sure you don’t want it recorded? I mean you’re in here alone with me, you didn’t bring a partner this time”, Sakusa said. There was a dangerous undertone in his voice. He was on guard, cautious.
“There are a few things I wanted to talk about with you. Things that, you know… no one should hear”, Atsumu said. Sakusa’s brows furrowed slightly.
“You said we’re even. So we can talk openly, can we not?” Atsumu asked. Sakusa’s eyes fell on the envelope in Atsumu’s hands.
“Congratulations on passing the sergeant exam”, Sakusa said without waiting for Atsumu to reveal what he wanted to talk about. Atsumu flinched. “How did you know?”
Sakusa looked back up at him. “I heard the guard address you as Sergeant Miya”, Sakusa said.
“Oh”.
They fell silent again. Atsumu put the envelope onto the table in front of Sakusa and Sakusa eyed it sceptically.
“Would you have told me?” Atsumu asked.
Sakusa had opened the enveloped with difficultly because his hands were cuffed and pulled out the piece of paper. His fingers ran slowly over the line of numbers.
“You said you’d tell me one day – long before we’re 80”, Atsumu said.
“You’re still here for a confession”, Sakusa said, not looking up. “Which one of you is true now?”
Atsumu was confused. Sakusa picked up the paper and held it up.
“This? Or the detective still wanting a confession?”, Sakusa said.
“You – you know what it says?” Atsumu asked, feeling heat creep up his neck. Sakusa put the paper back down. “Of course I do”.
Atsumu was glad that Sakusa looked back down at the paper. He had not expected Sakusa to understand the message right away.
“What is better in order to control people: fear or love?” Sakusa asked quietly. Atsumu jumped. “What?”
Sakusa looked up. “Love, obviously. People do the stupidest things for love”, he said.
A moment ago Atsumu had felt hot because Sakusa had understood his message, now his boiling blood seemed to have been replaced with ice.
“So, you really only used me… for what?” Atsumu asked.
Sakusa looked back down at the paper. “No”, Sakusa murmured after a long pause. “I didn’t use you for anything”.
Atsumu’s heartbeat picked up its pace at triple its usual speed.
“I went back to Tokyo because I hated travelling and it was exhausting to move constantly. When you turned up I thought that you were dangerous”, Sakusa said. “I thought you’d stay away like everyone else did once they realised that I didn’t want to be friends. But you didn’t. You kept coming back again and again”.
Atsumu said nothing, his fingers were digging into his legs to stop them from shaking.
“You weren’t put off or intimidated. Fear didn’t work. But I don’t make friends, so I wasn’t sure what to do. I could tell that you were cautious around me. So being friends wasn’t good enough. I thought I could read you. Single, just broken up with your girlfriend, very ready to prove yourself. But you had lied about that, right? Well, I told you I liked you and you ate it up. I had never thought it would be so easy to sway you. If I ever needed an alibi, it would be good to have a neighbour to tell the police that I was home all night. But way better to have someone contesting that I slept next to him all night”, Sakusa said.
“But you just said you didn’t want to use me”, Atsumu said confused but Sakusa didn’t answer.
Atsumu knew that Sakusa was avoiding eye contact because it was easy to tell when Sakusa’s words and his true feelings didn’t match up.
“You pretended to be scared so you could stay at my flat. You wanted to appear vulnerable and give me the feeling of protecting you,” Atsumu said when Sakusa remained silent. Sakusa’s brows contracted.
“Only”, Atsumu said as he saw that Sakusa’s cold and emotionless mask was crumbling.
“Only you were scared. You actually came to me because you were reminded of your parents’ murder when you thought that someone had broken into your flat”.
Sakusa shortly looked at him and Atsumu’s heart skipped a beat. Like a flame flickering he could see Sakusa’s real feelings appear and vanish in those black eyes.
“Your colleague was right”, Sakusa murmured. Atsumu frowned. “About what?”
“You got me”.
Atsumu opened his mouth but Sakusa had already continued.
“I pretended to like you and I was surprised how easy it was. It didn’t take long to realise that it came naturally because I was not pretending”, Sakusa said quietly.
Why did it hurt so much? Why was there no relief but only pain in hearing Sakusa tell him that he loved him, too, that it had been real?
“You got me”.
Sakusa lifted his hands and his fingers were trembling as he brushed over his eyes and forehead as if he had gotten into the habit of brushing his curls back. Only that his hair was so short now that there was nothing to brush back.
“I don’t even know why I thought it was a good idea to let you close. You irritated me and I told myself that’s all why you were on my mind constantly. At first I kept telling myself that a relationship could be of good use. But I didn’t even want to use it like that! I didn’t want an alibi. I didn’t want to – ever do it again.
All the things you said, I started to believe it. That we could figure things out, maybe I could find something else instead and I thought I could be normal”, Sakusa said.
He said ‘normal’ with so much contempt that Atsumu flinched. “But you are normal – you’re not crazy, Omi”, he said softly.
Sakusa looked up and Atsumu leaned across the table. It took all effort not to kiss Sakusa because now he looked like the Sakusa Atsumu knew and loved. Sakusa looked at him for a long moment and then he smiled. It looked like an apology.
“I didn’t want to do it, you know. I had to. If I didn’t, I couldn’t sleep or eat. It drove me mad. It was always like that. It just got really bad last time because I usually didn’t put it off for that long. I had never really tried to fight it like I had when I was with you.
The very first time it happened, I got scared. I was alone in a forest with a body. I couldn’t remember how I got there and what had happened. I wasn’t scared of what I had done but at how much it had calmed me down. So I cleaned up and thought it was done. It needn’t happen again. I thought it was a one-time thing.
But I got restless again and again and again. It wouldn’t stop, no matter what I tried, so I stopped fighting it. But then I met you and I was fine… I was fine for so long. I thought it would never come back”, Sakusa said.
Atsumu shook his head. “No, Omi, stop”, he whispered.
“I killed those 13 people that you accused me of murdering, I’m afraid I don’t remember the details, however.”
Sakusa paused for a long moment. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. Atsumu waited for Sakusa to continue but it seemed that he was done. He looked relieved.
“Omi, you know this conversation isn’t being recorded but I’m still a cop”, Atsumu said.
“I know. I’ll be in here for the rest of my life, you know my sentence. Once the 10 years are up they will still keep me because – because… It doesn’t matter whether I confess or not”, Sakusa said quietly and opened his eyes.
Atsumu wanted to say that it made all the difference because his confession could get the case re-opened, could change his sentence to capital punishment. But of course, only if Atsumu ever told anyone what Sakusa had just said. Sakusa didn't seem to realise the immense weight he had just put on Atsumu.
“But like I said, I would tell you all about it one day… long before we’re 80”.
Sakusa looked back at the paper and Atsumu slowly breathed out. This would be their last secret and he would not share it with anyone. This time, no one would wade through their memories like evidence.
“I still mean it. No matter what you did”, Atsumu said. Sakusa looked up abruptly, his lips twitched when he saw that Atsumu was also looking at his coded message.
“I really wish you didn’t. You shouldn’t”.
- “Can’t help it.”
Sakusa picked up the message and his thumb rested on the last part of the message. Atsumu felt a wild mix of joy and sadness when he saw the hint of a smile on Sakusa's lips.
“I really never wanted to – to do that to you”, Sakusa said.
“Yeah, I know”, Atsumu said lightly.
He could see Sakusa’s lips move just barely as he mouthed the words that those numbers stood for.
I never lied about loving you.
They looked at each other and Atsumu wondered for how long he could sit there and just look at him. Until he had memorised every strand of hair, every eyelash, line and feature of his face.
Sakusa tilted his head. The look in his eyes was soft and for that moment they could pretend that they were sitting on a soft sofa in Sakusa’s flat with the TV in the background and they were neighbours and lovers, only this time it was real from the beginning on.
He could feel Sakusa’s fingertips touch his just barely across the table and it felt more like a kiss than just their hands touching. As he opened his hand to interlace their fingers, Atsumu thought he would always wait for 7 PM, for 8 PM and for the leaves to turn red.