NOTE

Sorry for not writing in a while!

Everyone had something that made them feel better. Whether it was playing a sport, writing down their feelings in a special notebook, or listening to your favorite feel-good songs. There was always something you could do to make you feel just a little bit better.

Atsushi's comfort was to cry. He'd come home after a bad day, prop his pillows up to the headboard of his bed, wrap himself in his favorite fluffy blanket and watch the most outrageously depressing films he could to make himself cry. Was it a little odd? Maybe. But Atsushi wasn't the type to let his emotions build-up, he couldn't imagine it. Even after a single bad day his body felt ready to burst, he really just had too many feelings for his body to comfortably house. He had to let them out. And after the way his first debate went down, he felt like he needed a movie marathon.

He was beyond embarrassed not only of himself for being such an idiot, but for his teammates. They so obviously wanted to counterargue, so clearly could've won and gotten those bragging rights they craved, but no. Atsushi ruined it. Atsushi ruined the first debate of the season, and he wasn't sure if he could ever face them again. He didn't want to see a disappointed scowl on Kunikida's face or have Ranpo roll his eyes at him or have Junichiro to ignore him. He couldn't cope with that.

So, he opted to watch The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas for the hundredth time, and yes, he still cried like it was his first time; and thankfully Dazai let him cry in peace, well he tried to after all this ritual made almost a monthly appearance so he was quite accustomed to the sound of strangled sobs.

But some conversations really couldn't wait, and so there was a soft harmless knock on Atsushi's door to warn him of the impending, opening hinges "Sushi" Dazai whined.

Atsushi knew instantly that Dazai had done something wrong, he only ever called him Sushi when he'd either forgotten something, needed something or broken something. Atsushi turned his stiff body to face the door, and his sheepish roommate, "Whats up, Osamu" He said, rubbing his tear-stained face against the plush fabric of his favorite hoodie.

Dazai wandered into the room, making himself comfy next to Atsushi "Oh, I love this film—" A lie, Dazai hated it. He only lied when he'd...

Atsushi sighed, "What did you break?"

The man was silent for a few minutes, pretending to be as invested in the film as he could be, before he answered "The washing machine" Dazai mumbled, clearly a little ashamed.

The conversation was already starting to hurt Atsushi's dizzy brain, but still, he asked "How?"

Dazai's response was blunt, "I washed my coat and forgot I left my watch in the pocket. The inside of the drum looks like swiss cheese."

The silver-haired boy let a strangled laugh fly out of him at the dramatics, "It's ok, there's a laundrette open pretty late around the corner, I'll take it when I'm done crying."

Next thing he knew, he was smothered in a crushing hug pulled to Dazai's chest cheek pressed against a solid, bandaged chest "You're the best Sushi!"

Little did he know, Atsushi wasn't the only one having a rough day.

Akutagawa had been called last minute to cover a couple of night shifts at his part-time job. Since he was a second-year student, he couldn't utilize the classic timetable being too hectic excuse, in all honesty, he barely felt like a student with how little time he spent on campus for lectures. Plus, he needed the money and it's not like a couple 10 p.m. – 5 a.m. shift was going to kill him, he worked at a laundrette for Christ sakes. He could count on one hand the number of customers he'd seen between those hours.

All he had to do was sit at the front desk if people needed help with the machines, he'd, reluctantly, leave his post to help them however they needed. And at the end of his shift, he'd wash the floors and check the drums for any forgotten items to shove in the lost and found box. By the way, if you were ever wondering what happens to those clothes, half of them are in Akutagawa's wardrobe now. It was amazing what some people left behind, designer hoodies, coats, even shoes which were kinda rare but welcomed all the same.

Since his shifts were so long and dull, he always bought something to keep himself occupied. On this occasion, he decided to dig out his old PSP and a couple of games. It's not like he had any supervisors on his shifts, he could probably sleep the entire time, and nobody would ever know about it. And it's not like playing a couple of hours of monster hunter free was going to distract him completely if a fire were to break out or something dramatic.

He clocked in, did a quick walk around to make sure all the machines were working and empty before settling himself down at his desk. The first couple of hours were always ok, there were always a few customers between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m. to keep him somewhat entertained, like watching the monitor at his desk, which shows the machine room, to find a man trying to discreetly wash a whole sailor moon cosplay outfit. Or watching as people try and fight their snacks out of the temperamental vending machine.

By 2.am. his mind had started to wander back to the real world, back to the assignments he had to finish and what the hell he was supposed to do once he'd finished his degree, where he was supposed to go. Then again, as long as he had money in his pocket and a roof over his head, he really didn't care what he ended up doing. By 3 a.m. he considered himself insane as he stood in the staff room waiting for the kettle to boil for his spicy noodle lunch. The kettle was silver, light, and shiny. It reminded him of a certain head of hair, a head of hair he'd been seeing way too often in his daydreams as of late.

It was annoying, like a fly in the kitchen you just couldn't quite swat. You couldn't always see it, but as soon as you did it was way too close for comfort and instantly filled you with rage. The boy was just so pathetic, seemed like he could barely even speak for himself. It was ridiculous, that someone of his age in a university of that stature couldn't even fathom a simple introduction without stuttering like a baby. The fact that he shoved himself into the debate society was observed, he clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea what was even going on.

It was infuriating.

But what was even more infuriating, was that Akutagawa couldn't quite shake those wide, innocent eyes out of his head. He couldn't, even though he was definitely trying to, shake the little eruption of...something, in his stomach whenever he thought of the boy. It was really pissing him off. He didn't want to even risk feeling that way for anyone, he couldn't afford to. He had things to do, places to be, a life to live. He didn't have the time to spare glances or daydream about what'd feel like to see him laugh. Or, god forbid, how he'd look in something other than those ridiculously tight skinny jeans and that button-down white blouse.

"Akutagawa?"

Great, now he was even daydreaming about hearing his voice.

He poured the boiled water into his noodles, gave them a quick stir around with the seasoning packet before grabbing the hot cup and walking out to his desk. When he crossed the threshold and his eyes instinctively lifted up to place his noodles on his desk, he nearly screamed, the sudden jump of his body caused the boiling noodle broth to slap onto his hand which only startle him more.

He dropped the cup.

"My noodles!" He half gasped; half sobbed as the condense of his lunch fell to the floor and splattered everywhere, already working on staining the off grey carpets. But his grief was quickly overpowered by rage, his grey eyes shot up to meet purple yellow with ferocity, "You." Atsushi gulped, clinging tightly to the duffle bag he was holding like a shield against his chest, "What the fuck do you want!"

Atsushi opened and closed his mouth multiple times, head jumping from side to side as he fought off his desire to self-destruct, but then his eyes glanced down and saw the pale skin of Akutagawa's hand a burning red, and his heart clenched, "Are you ok?"

Akutagawa's eyes shot wide at this, sparing a glance to his own burning hand before grumpily shoving it into his jumper pocket, "I said, what do you want?" Akutagawa's tone was slightly softer this time. Still harsh, still laced with something completely indescribable, but it didn't sound like he was quite so close to throttling him anymore.

"Uh, washing?" Atsushi almost asked, for a second wondering if he'd managed to walk into a different building, but no. This was definitely the laundrette. He could tell by the overpowering smell of detergent and also the massive sign that read, 24-hour laundrette plastered to the front of the desk.

Akutagawa huffed, stepping out from behind the desk and waving his arms to encourage Atsushi to follow him, which he did. He followed him into the main room, machines upon machines stacked on top of each other and whirling wildly. Akutagawa was quick to ransack a stack of paper towels by the hand washing station, to clean up his lunch.

Atsushi didn't say anything else, he quickly flung himself toward the nearest vacant machine and shoved in the pile of Dazai's washing, taking the time to check the pockets for any unwashable items just encase. While Atsushi was adding the detergent, his mind wandered back to that burning hand.

What if those noodles were the only lunch he'd bought? If he hadn't eaten all day and was really looking forward to those noodles, and Atsushi had just ruined that. He could get seriously ill if he didn't eat right, he needed to eat something. Then, as if a light bulb bad suddenly been switched on, Atsushi sprinted out of the laundrette as soon as he clicked spin.

He knew the noodle packaging well; it was his favorite type of spicy noodle funnily enough. So, he knew exactly what isle to dip down.

"aha" he muttered to himself triumphantly, throwing four cups into his basket with a smile. Although, this definitely wasn't the healthiest or most filling of meals, so of course he went a little overboard and bought some extra ingredients to spice it up a bit. He grabbed a case of hardboiled eggs, a pack of ready cooked and diced tofu, garlic powder, and green onions. Just to add more depth to the noodles, make it more of a whole meal than a quick lunch.

He paid and slowly made his way back to the laundrette with the haul in a plastic bag. This was definitely overkill, Atsushi was well aware of it, but in all honesty, he'd do anything just to have Akutagawa not scowl at him whenever he saw him. Which granted wasn't often but still. Kindness never hurt anyone and doing selfless things like this made Atsushi feel good. Made him feel like he had a purpose. Even if the other person wasn't appreciative, Atsushi still felt goof knowing he'd been a little selfless.

Despite his bubbly feelings inside he knew he had to push them down, not because he wanted to but because he knew if he walked in all smiley with a bag of food Akutagawa would probably stab him.

He cautiously walked toward the front desk, just seeing the top of the man's scruffy head as he was engrossed in some type of game, "Akutagawa" he called out timidly, standing on his tiptoes curiously to see over the desk. Whatever he was playing he was good at it, slashing people down with accurate ferocity—

"What?" His deep voice grumbled, not looking up from his game for a second. Not until he heard the rustle of a bag being dumped in front of him. He glanced up, confused, and turned off his console to slowly paw at the outside of the bag to see what was inside, much like a timid cat, "What the hell—"

Surprisingly, Atsushi cut him off. He couldn't help it, he was practically bursting with joy about the good deed he'd done "I felt bad about making you drop your lunch, so I bought you some replacements encase you get hungry." He said with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.

Akutagawa wasn't lost for words often, in fact, he had an argument or comeback for every situation he'd ever been in...well, ever been in so far; because looking up at Atsushi who was sporting a slight awkward blush on his cheeks as he shifted from foot to foot, he was speechless.

"Uh—" Was all he managed to say at first as he riffled through the bag of goodies until his brain kicked in. Until the light fluttering of his heart was crushed by a boiling embarrassed anger, and suddenly the Akutagawa Atsushi was accustomed to came roaring to the surface, scowl and all, "Firstly, I don't need your fucking pity, secondly you didn't make me do anything I choose to let them go because it was the sensible thing to do. And what makes you think I—"

Akutagawa was startled when Atsushi let out a small huff of a laugh, "You're welcome" he bowed, walking away toward the machine room where Dazai's wet clothes were waiting to be dried.

For once, he didn't mind that he'd been yelled at; he could see in Akutagawa's eyes that he was grateful even if his words didn't convey that. Besides, it's not like they were friends. Atsushi was simply replacing something he'd effectively broken; it was common courtesy. It meant nothing more. That's what Atsushi's brain was saying, but his heart was thumping and his neck was burning red with embarrassment and his stomach was halfway through its eight cartwheel as he shoved his now washed clothes back into the duffel bag.

On the way out he caught the subtle humming and dim light of the vending machine, the last bottle of Vimto luring his cons into the slot and willing his hands to press the code. The machine gurgled to life, the silver coil span and just as the bottle began to fell...it stopped. Stuck against the glass far too high up for Atsushi to reach his hand in and grab. He sighed, not wanting to ask for help since he'd bothered Akutagawa enough for one night, and not being able to kick or shake it because the racket it'd make would probably annoy the man at the desk as well.

So, in the end, he had no choice but to leave the bottle in its precarious position. After all, it was nearly 5 a.m. and he needed to get home before Dazai fell asleep and couldn't open the door for him. He left the laundrette feeling light, despite the heavy bag of washing weighing him down. He couldn't help but hope their washing machine stayed broke forever, only if it meant seeing Akutagawa again of course.

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