-- -- - (T∩T) - -- --

Ryuuji, despite his gruff and intimidating appearance, found himself often moved to tears. Whether it was from frustration and hurt (probably the most common sort) or heartbreak, or even pure unbridled joy, Ryuuji’s eyes filled up with tears and spilled over fairly frequently.

He’d been ashamed of that when he was little. He had grown up around a lot of men, and while most of them had been incredible and people he could safely model himself after, a few had been harsher and with a different (an almost archaic) sense of what was and was not acceptable for men. Crying had been one of the things at the top of that list. Ryuuji, young and impassioned and pleading for the men he had loved and admired to stay had not realized that it wasn’t only his father they were declaring unfit as a leader. They were seeing the tears splashing down his cheeks and deciding he was also unworthy.

Ryuuji learned about those judgements when he was older, and he learned about how unacceptable crying was for ‘men’ when he was in school. It was yet another thing for the others to tease and belittle him about, and yet another thing that saw him swinging his fists.

He could cry and still kick their asses while he did.

Regardless of his ability to kick other peoples’ asses and his ability to prove himself strong and capable, he learned when he was young that his tears weren’t safe around most people.

It was just another thing that made him defiant. Just another thing he refused to hide and another thing that made him swear to take down all the bullies.

-- -- -(īī ^ īī)- -- --

Ryuuji, to his honest embarrassment, cried within hours of really meeting Rin. He was pretty sure Rin hadn’t noticed though, so he never really mentioned it.

Whether Rin remembered it or not, Rin had plenty of chances to see the waterworks start on Ryuuji though, so it didn’t really remember if he’d noticed them with the drama that had been the reaper. (Mostly drama of Ryuuji’s own making, but Izumo had been an utter dick during that entire semester.)

Crying while you were being choked out was more forgivable than crying while confronting a reaper, and Ryuuji hadn’t had any tears when he told Rin to run in the Impure King’s castle, but he had a few blurry eyed exhaustion tears when Rin refused to run and stood tall and defiantly, pulling his sword out and igniting in a dazzling display that should just look ridiculous with all the candy floss fluff of death rot the castle was made of surrounding them.

There had been tears during the mysteries (of frustration and embarrassment) tears during the shock of Shima spying (pain and anger) and now…

Ryuuji had cried in front of Lightning without meaning too and he had been so angry and upset that Lightning didn’t get it. Upset that Misumi had died and that it had been another death linked to too many deaths. A senseless way for a man who wanted to repent to die. He hadn’t been given the chance to make any sort of atonement or peace. He’d been trapped in some terrible lie and murdered the moment he tried to make it right.

He had drowned in his guilt over it and then Lightning had led him down into Section Thirteen, and now Ryuuji was sitting at a bench in a half frozen park, trying to make sense of the massive list of names and numbers and how shockingly many people had been tortured and murdered and the ones who weren’t outright killed were left frozen in the bowels of this academy as if that was a kindness.

It was too many names to properly comprehend, but the bodies and the faces and the remains he had seen weren’t. They had looked so human and so mutilated, and he didn’t notice the first of the tears spilling down his cheeks as he typed away on his laptop, trying to organize the dead so that they could have some kind of justice served. He didn’t notice himself wiping them away to be able to see his screen at all, and didn’t notice the loud sniff he gave as he saved the spreadsheet that was already too many lines long and opened a new tab for the second batch of clones.

He did notice the bench shifting as a body sat next to him. He hastily hit two keys to lock the screen so no one would see and looked over to try and see who had joined him only for a packet of tissues to be shoved at him by a familiar hand.

“I don’t know what gotcha upset, but if it’s Shima, I’ll burn his clothes off again for ya.”

Ryuuji internally cringed at once again crying in front of Rin, and crying in front of Rin when Rin had been the one who knew and loved Misumi and still didn’t know what had happened.

“It’s not Shima,” he mumbled, not entirely intelligibly and took a tissue. “But you’re always free to burn his clothes off. He usually deserves it.”

It was a lame attempt at a misdirect, but Ryuuji wasn’t exactly on his A game. He didn’t feel like he’d been on his A game since sometime in June. They were well into December now and Ryuuji had all but given up on finding his A game again.

“Not Shima…” Rin hummed under his breath and tapped his finger against his chin. “Is it Lightning? Did he make another mess?”

Ryuuji wiped at his face, finding the tissue soft and gentle against his skin and shook his head. “It’s nothing, man. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Rin’s face immediately scrunched up in frustration. “Not you too.”

Ryuuji’s hand stilled on his cheek and he sniffed, blinking back more of the damned tears as he tried to see Rin through them. It didn’t work particularly well, but even through the blur, he could see the frustration on every inch of Rin’s face and posture.

Ryuuji didn’t do great holding back tears, and Rin didn’t do great at hiding any emotion.

“Me too?” Ryuuji asked with a hiccup.

“Yeah! You too. You’re upset and I wanna help. Nobody is letting me help.”

Ryuuji wanted to tell him. That was the problem. He wanted to seek comfort. He selfishly wanted Rin’s comfort and he wasn’t the one that had been so hurt. He just knew that people had, and that they had been tortured and treated as less than human. That they had been treated like lab rats and they had been babies and children and confused and frightened and left frozen in time, stuck forever in their vats in an attempt to let would-be-gods live forever so they didn’t destroy the world in a toddler-like rage.

He exhaled and passed the packet of tissues back to Rin. “This helped.”

There was a beat of silence as Rin didn’t take the tissues back. Rin’s tail was still flicking, and he was still turned towards Ryuuji, and there were still tears dripping down Ryuuji’s cheeks. Too many for a tissue.

“I don’t know who else isn’t letting you help, but I’ll listen—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Rin interrupted, scowling and shoving Ryuuji’s shoulder enough to send him rocking and having to brace himself. He liked that Rin didn’t check his strength too much around him.

“Don’t you dare try and turn this on me. I am the one comforting.”

Despite everything, Ryuuji’s lips quirked up the slightest bit. “Yeah?”

Rin nodded importantly, pulling on a goofy air. “Yes. Now tell me what you want. More tissues? To talk about it? To go punch something? I can even make you something to eat.”

His grin grew, and there was something else in it that Ryuuji’s chest aching in a different way.

“I can even make it a yakisoba bun. No generation long grudges needed.”

“No?” Ryuuji asked softly, and wished he could just explain. He had a feeling Rin really might listen and tell him he wasn’t over reacting. That all of this did deserve tears.

He grabbed another tissue instead and put all of those thoughts away as he closed the lid of his laptop, promising the dead he’d return to them as soon as he could think and see clearly.

“A yakisoba bun sounds good. The deli probably still has a few.”

Rin’s nose wrinkled up again. “No, we’re gonna make it. None of that overly processed garbage.”

“That garbage is delicious.”

“You’re lucky you’re cool ‘cuz you got awful taste.”

And then Rin was lifting Ryuuji’s bag and heading off towards his dorm, leaving Ryuuji to chase after him and at least momentarily forget that his cheeks were stiff with tears and his throat was thick from them.

-- -- -  ( •́ω•̩̥̀ ) - -- --

It was late and dark and Ryuuji had no idea how Rin knew, but his boyfriend did and came up beside him for the run and sat beside him when Ryuuji couldn’t run any further. He had a pack of tissues that he passed over as they collapsed on the bench, and his arm went around Ryuuji as he accepted them.

He’d long since given up trying to hide them around Rin, and he just dabbed a few of the tears away and tilted himself into the side Rin was offering him with a sniffle that could just be pathetic. It was safe to be pathetic and sad around Rin. To let that guard down and that self-preservation and cry without having to be wary. His tears and emotions were safe with Rin, just like Rin’s were safe with him.

“Wanna talk about it?” Rin asked, and brought his other hand around to brush through Ryuuji’s hair.

“Not a lot to talk about,” Ryuuji garbled around the phlegm in his throat and dabbed pointlessly at the tears that were still trying to fall. He couldn’t help the harsh breath or the way he could feel a sob rising and he hated that the memories were there, but Rin had just as bad of ones and Ryuuji hated that too.

There was nothing he could do about either of those things, and the people who had been hurt and killed deserved at least his tears.

“The nightmare? Section Thirteen?”

Ryuuji nodded and tilted his head against Rin’s shoulder. He was getting snot and tears on Rin’s hoodie. Rin didn’t seem to mind and kept brushing his fingers through Ryuuji’s hair.

“Well then, we can feed Amaimon Mephisto’s game collection tomorrow.”

The laugh slipped past Ryuuji without quite meaning to. His arm came around Rin’s middle and hugged him as the sob settled into something more like a hiccup and a hitch in his breath. 

“Yeah,” Rin continued. “He likes to eat the controllers. Beetlebug—”

“Beezlebub.”

“Beezlebub will take his ramens if I tell him they’re barbecue flavored.”

Ryuuji’s eyes slipped closed for a moment. The tears were still there and the ache in his chest wasn’t likely to go away, but it helped that he could just let them fall. That Rin didn’t think less of him for them.

“Sounds fair.”

“He’s an ass and deserves it.” Rin said decisively. His fingers brushed through Ryuuji’s hair and his lips pressed against Ryuuji’s forehead before both his arms were wrapping around Ryuuji’s middle and hugging him close, unashamedly cuddly even in the public of a park.

Ryuuji felt indescribably safe like this. Safe to cry, yes, but safe in a different way too. Heard? Possibly, though that didn’t quite describe it either.

It was different in every way from being that kid begging the people around him, the people that he cared so much for to stay. Rin wasn’t going anywhere, and he showed that. He let Ryuuji show himself and let Ryuuji mourn the losses and dark memories and the fears and the excitement and didn’t run and didn’t shy away. He met it head on and he let Ryuuji have a place to get himself calm again.

Even if it was a park in the middle of the night.

“You’re not going back to your dorm,” Rin said when Ryuuji shifted a little and fisted the soiled tissue.

“I’m not?” Ryuuji asked a bit wetly.

“Nope. You’re coming back with me.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get me to stay over.”

Rin tickled his hip. “I am.”

“Pervert,” Ryuuji joked, and pinched Rin’s side in retaliation of that tickle.

“Yep!” Rin said cheerfully, and scooped Ryuuji right up in his arms like he weighed nothing. Ryuuji’s squawk was loud in the stillness around them, and Rin’s responding laugh was even louder.

--  -- -- -- --

So, housekeeping about my fic submissions and turning off anon.

1) I’ve been harassed by anons for a few years now on tumblr and ao3 and it was exhausting and demoralizing

2) I was getting in a bad headspace about the number of anon requests I was getting and how little interaction the fills of those requests were getting. It was mostly a me problem, because it’s not healthy to write for engagement and reception, but it’s also a very hard thing to mentally turn off, and the amount of requests and the way they’re just consumed made me feel like people saw me as just some kind of vending machine they could feed a prompt into and get a product out of and not a human who does this for fun and because I like the community and connection. The like to reblog ratio being depressing, the silence from whoever had requested those prompts on whether or not they liked them/even read them, and the tone on how some of them were super bossy and demanding  were absolutely getting to me, so all of those reasons led me to turning off the anon and seeing if that helps my brain space.