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Sometimes, he lingers at the base of the stairs and watches. He does it when he knows that he’s just out of sight of his guardian and that Goro Akechi is otherwise distracted.
Goro Akechi comes here far too often to just like the coffee. He stays for hours on end. When Akira leaves to visit friends, Akechi is here, engrossed in a book, bags under his eyes that always seem to disappear the next morning just in time for his news segment. Akechi is here, nursing the same cup of coffee for over an hour. Akechi is here, occasionally carding his hand back through his hair, chewing on the edge of a pen. Akechi is here and what makes Akira take notice the first time is when Akechi says he feels as if he can take off his mask here. That he can be himself.
Before that, Akira had pegged the ace detective as an annoying celebrity. Harmless, but annoying to a fault. He wanted to jump on the bandwagon of the Phantom Thieves and use their popularity for his own gain. While Akira didn’t mind, since added popularity never hurt anyone, he didn’t find anything particularly redeeming about the guy. Girls fawned over him, he stuck his nose in places it didn’t belong.
And he was most definitely suspicious of them. After all, he wanted to track down the Thieves.
But when Akira learns that Akechi maybe isn’t so different from Futaba – looking for a place to call home, looking for someone, for something, for anything – he can’t help but take pause.
So he lingers at the base of the steps frequently to just watch. He scolds himself sometimes when he zones out, watching the way Akechi’s fingers move elegantly along the crisp pages of a new book. He scolds himself for doing what Goro Akechi does best: pry, spy, be weird.
But if Akechi is just as lonely as Futaba was, Akira wonders, does he have a Palace? Does he want to be saved? Of course he doesn’t he hates the Thieves. It’s a silly idea.
But Akira wonders. Because that’s just in his nature: to care.
The most interesting thing about Goro Akechi, though, is when he thinks no one is looking, he looks soft. Lost, but definitely gentle. He looks down when he hears a meow and reaches down to gently run his fingers through Morgana’s soft fur. Akira makes a mental note to tease Morgana about it later - Thought you didn’t like him. Could someone so gentle really be that bad?
Sometimes, Akira doesn’t linger at the steps. Tonight is one of those rare evenings where his eyes aren’t heavy and he doesn’t feel sore from the Metaverse. So he takes a seat next to Goro Akechi at the counter.
It takes Akechi a moment or two to notice. “Ah. Hello. I didn’t see you come in. My apologies.”
Akira shrugs, as if dismissing it. “You’ve been reading that one for a week. What’s it about?”
Akechi blinks, slowly, brown eyes behind fringe looking a tad lost. There’s a twinkle in them after and Akechi delicately marks the page and closes the aforementioned book. He smiles, and Akira wonders just how fake it is.
“Just a silly fairy tale. It’s on this month’s Best Sellers list.”
“So you wanted to stay relevant,” Akira says, filling in the blanks.
“More or less.” Akechi smiles, but it doesn’t say it all. “I find it rather refreshing to be able to have stimulating conversations about literature.”
“Dunno how stimulating calling it silly is,” Akira responds as he arches out of his seat to reach across the counter and grab one of the extra straws Sojiro usually leaves. He begins spinning it around his fingers.
Akechi’s gaze follows that straw, around and around, just like their interactions. “I’m sure it wouldn’t interest you.”
“You’d be surprised.” Akira allows the straw to dance along his fingers, jumping across his knuckles from his thumb to his pinky. It’s mesmerizing. “C’mon. Give me the basic plot and I’ll tell you how interested I’d be.”
Akechi doesn’t say anything at first. His legs uncross and he leans forward, nestling his chin into the cup of his hand, elbow square on the counter. He’s making himself comfortable. “Well,” he begins, not quite looking at Akira, “It begins when the main character wakes up in a place he’s never been before.”
How familiar, Akira thinks, almost shivering at the way it conjures up memories of the strange room with the haunting face and the angry attendants.
“He doesn’t have any of his belongings with him, and he’s dressed in clothes he’s never seen before,” Akechi continues. His eyes close, eyelashes tangling with his messy bangs. “He calls out into the dark room and a voice answers, greets him. He realizes he’s been chosen to complete a very special task. He must be the hero that saves the world. He’s never been particularly special, but with these new powers from this strange man, he begins a quest to save his world.”
When Akechi finishes, Akira realizes that he’s been staring at the detective, hanging on his every word. Akira’s hands and feet are cold, numb even. His throat is dry and he’s certain that he’s reading parallels into the story in efforts not to feel like the only person in the world that has such a strange fate bestowed upon them. He’s glad there’s a glare on his glasses, because his expression is very conflicted right now.
“Is something wrong?” Akechi says, that grating tone returning.
“Huh?” Akira says and then shakes his head, setting the straw down in favor of fiddling with his bangs. “Nah. I was just thinking about what you said.”
“Does the story interest you, then?”
“Maybe. I can’t really tell when you’re such a shitty storyteller.” Akira smirks and he’s looking over the rim of his glasses at the detective.
Akechi looks affronted. That calm demeanor disappears for a hot second. But then it’s replaced with a cool smile and Akechi chuckles. It sounds hollow.
“When I finish, I can lend you my copy, if you’re that interested.”
“Yeah. Do that. Then I’ll tell you how I feel about it.”
Akechi watches as Akira swings around on the stool, pushing off from it. He stands and arches his arms lazily above his head, much like Morgana would do in the morning after sleeping for too long. Some things just tend to rub off on him, it seems.
“Well, goodnight then, Detective.”
Akira walks back to the steps, not looking back to see if Akechi is watching. Sojiro will close up shop when he’s done with his smoke.
“Yes. Goodnight.”
••••••••••••
The next time Akira finds Akechi at Leblanc, it’s after Akechi joins the Phantom Thieves. This time, Akira sneaks up on him, which seems to be par for the course as of late. Akira slides into the booth that Akechi has holed up in. Akira thinks, judging by the empty plate and equally empty cup of coffee, he’s been here for some time.
“Hey,” Akira says, quite possibly invading Akechi’s personal space, but he deserves it for being such a jerk.
Akechi looks up from whatever he’s reading – perhaps class notes – and blinks. “Ah. Hello, Kurusu.”
“It’s Akira now,” Akira corrects, beginning to fiddle with Akechi’s forgotten fork. “You’re part of the team now. No one calls me Kurusu. It feels weird.”
“Noted,” Akechi says and he pushes aside his notes.
The handwriting is fairly beautiful and Akira’s eyes linger on it for longer than he cares to admit. Akira’s tongue traces the bottom of his lips for a split second before he’s dragged back to reality at the pleasant humming coming from his teammate.
“Was there something you needed?” Akechi asks.
“Not really.” Akira fights the urge to yawn. He’s been studying too much lately and he’s been super tired trying to keep up with class and trying to change Sae’s heart. He needs a break.
“Ah, that’s right. I have something for you.”
Akechi furtively turns away from Akira towards his dufflebag. Akira’s interest is piqued and he can’t help but try and strain his neck to see. After a few dramatic moments, Akechi drags a book out of his bag and places it on the table.
“I finished it the other day and wanted to keep my word. You may borrow it. So long as you treat it properly.”
“I won’t leave it outside in the rain, I guess.” Akira grins, greedily taking the book into his hands, flipping it back and forth. “Did you like the ending?”
Akechi frowns. “Why would you want to know that?”
“Because isn’t that the point? Y’know, of reading a book. Finding out the ending?” Akira wrinkles his nose. “Also, I’m just trying to get to know you. Calm down.”
Akechi rolls his eyes, and Akira thinks that for the first time in quite awhile he’s managed to ruffle the pretty boy’s feathers. Akira’s grin is reminiscent of his expression in the Metaverse, of determined and proud and haughty Joker. Not rather shy Akira Kurusu.
“If you’re that curious,” Akechi begins, clearing his throat, his fingertips tugging on his tie rather restlessly, “I didn’t mind the ending. It wasn’t my favorite, but it seemed poetic in a way. After all, you can’t save everyone.”
The words echo in the otherwise empty Leblanc. Akira would brush it off had it not come from a person like Goro Akechi. Add that to everything else weird Akechi has been saying since they met and well, the cards aren’t stacked in his favor.
Akira taps his fingers against the cover of the book. The noise resonates in the air just like their words. “Why not?”
“Why didn’t I like the ending?” Akechi asks, frowning. “I just told you.”
“No,” Akira says, shaking his head yet again. He feels like he’s always doing that with Akechi. “I mean, do you really believe you can’t save everyone?”
“Of course. There are heroes and villains. There are laws and there are punishments. People break these rules and that can’t be changed. There are always victims, collateral damage. You can’t possibly save them all.” There’s a beat and Akechi adds a bit more emphasis, “Though I suppose that doesn’t resonate with your motto, Joker?”
“Hm.” Akira leans back against the booth, crossing his arms. Why can Akechi read him so well when Akechi is a barbed, thorny book that refuses to be touched? It’s really not fair. Everyone confides in Akira. Everyone feels oddly comforted by him. Why can’t he break the strange wall that guards the infuriating Goro Akechi?
“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.” Akechi pleasantly reaches for his coffee. He frowns when he realizes it’s empty. “…Could I bother you for another cup? I have exams coming up soon.”
“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Akira murmurs as he takes the cup and slides out of the booth.
Thankfully, there’s still a pot in the warming station. It’s not that he minds brewing up a new batch for any customer, but it takes awhile and he just doesn’t have that focus today. It’s surprising that he’s even expending this much energy on dealing with the Detecive Prince.
Akira returns to the booth with the coffee. Akechi by that time has gone back to his notes and is highlighting a certain portion.
“What subject are you studying for?”
Akechi’s highlighting pauses mid-word. “English.”
“Ugh.” Akira shakes his head. “I’m horrible at that. Sorry.”
Akechi cracks a smile, smug as hell. “Oh, I’ve heard through the grapevine that was the case. Too much moonlighting interfering with your studies?”
As Akira would do with Ryuji, he nonchalantly slams his foot down against Akechi’s. Unlike Ryuji, who would make a tiny noise and then shove at him playfully, calling him a dick and starting a playful fight that teenage boys tend to do, Akechi makes this undignified squawk. That’s all Akira can label it as. A squawk. Akechi’s body is as far as it can be seconds later and his eyes are narrowed and it’s the first shred of real emotion Akira has seen in months from this kid.
“What was that for?” Akechi asks, completely affronted.
Akira smirks. “Seeing if you were capable of taking off that mask.”
Akechi falls quiet, the anger visibly slipping off his face. He stares down at his notes. There’s a noticeable tension in the air. Akechi doesn’t say anything at first, but when he looks back up from the table, he’s scowling.
“Is this what you do? To get people to open up to you and tell you their secrets? Pretend that you care?”
Akira is taken aback. He’s never heard such sharp words from Akechi. Not even when he’s berating the Phantom Thieves for taking justice into their own hands. Even when he’s upset he sounds poetic. But this? This sounds harsh. This sounds real and personal.
“Uh… no?” Akira frowns. “It was a joke, Akechi.”
Akechi makes a noise that should be a laugh, but Akria is pretty sure it isn’t. “Turning my own pleasant words against me. What is your angle?”
“Chill,” Akira says, calmly, lacing his hands together on the table. He’s uncomfortable and he feels a metaphorical bead of sweat gathering on his forehead. This wasn’t going as planned. This is just as bad as Iwai’s temper.
“This stint with the Thieves is temporary. You will disband once this is over. We aren’t friends.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Pardon?”
“Is that what you want?” Akira repeats, not changing anything. “This being some sort of business transaction.”
“Is it not?” Akechi looks unfazed. Akira isn’t sure if he like the anger better than the indifference.
“Just because you’re a jerk doesn’t mean we don’t like you, Akechi. Yeah, sure you’re a huge jerk and the girls probably will take awhile to come around, but if you want to be friends, I don’t see the problem.”
Akechi laughs again, sounding hollow. “Your optimism is truly remarkable. No wonder you’re a natural leader.” Beneath that pleasant compliment, he sounds envious, just underneath the surface. Akira notices it and it worries him.
“Well, I’m gonna go start this Best Seller,” Akira decides, not wanting to play with fire anymore. Not today. He gets up from the booth and waves the book around in the air. “I’ll be sure to return it in mint condition.”
Akechi makes a noise and nods.
“…I’ll be right back,” Akira says next, seemingly out of nowhere.
Akechi doesn’t look up.
Akira races upstairs and returns moments later with a book of his own. Akechi still isn’t looking, so Akira unceremoniously drops the book on top of Akechi’s pretty color-coded notes. It’s enough to ruffle the feathers of the boy detective and Akira can’t help but start to grin.
“What’s this?”
“A book,” Akira says, lamely, and then crosses his arms. “We’re starting our own book club.”
“The Phantom Thieves Book Club?” Akechi says, dragging out each word incredulously.
“Nope. You and me.”
Akechi isn’t following. “That’s not much of a club. I’d consider that a couple, if anything.”
“Hey, I didn’t agree to date you,” Akira jokes and then shakes his head and continues before Akechi can get another wise crack in. This banter is better. This teasing is more familiar than the anger Akechi had suddenly burst into earlier. “Read it and tell me what you think. It was one of my favorites growing up.” Which… is more than anyone really knows about Akira, other than the smattering of details about how he ended up on probation.
“Hm. I suppose it’s only fair,” Akechi finally says as he gently nudges the book off his notes.
Akira nods. “Good luck studying.”
“…You too.”
And Akira heads upstairs.
••••••••••••
“…Tomorrow’s the big day. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
Akira has come downstairs from trying to sleep only to find that Sojiro is out smoking and Akechi is, surprisingly, at the counter. He’s reading and he just looks so unassuming, like he belongs in Leblanc. Not like he’s a teenager who is about to steal someone’s heart and save the world. How does he always manage to stay so calm?
“I don’t sleep much. Having such a busy schedule turned me into quite the night owl,” says Akechi, not looking up from the book. “What about yourself? We’re counting on you tomorrow, Joker.”
Akira snorts. “Nerves, I guess. It happens every time.”
“You’re human, after all.”
“Yeah,” Akira says and he heads over to Akechi. He doesn’t sit beside him, but he lingers rather close. “I finished the book, by the way. The one you lent me.”
“And?”
“I agree. The ending kind of sucks,” Akira says simply and cracks his neck from side to side, trying to ease out the tension filling him. He’s certain it’s about the casino. It has to be. What else could it be?
“Ah. The rare moment we agree!” Akechi says, a bit dramatically. He tosses Akira a charming smile, finally. “I’ll make sure to remember this day for always.”
Akira wants to punch his pretty face. He’s about to say something catty when he notices that Akechi is reading the book he gave him. And further, he’s almost done. Akira feels oddly proud all of a sudden. He leans in expectantly, closer to Akechi’s ear, peering over his shoulder to read the page he’s on.
“And?”
“I’m not done yet,” Akechi says, stating the obvious. “But it’s rather corny. I’m surprised someone like you enjoys this.”
“I like corny,” Akira admits, unabashed, still hovering over Akechi’s shoulder as he reads. “I like this part.”
“I would imagine. You did recommend the book,” Akechi hums like the know-it-all he pretends to be. But that’s just the thing: he’s pretending.
“It’s when the hero finally tells the princess who he is.”
“You should come with a spoiler warning,” Akechi says and that’s when he notices that Akira is close. Hovering. Super close. Akechi blinks and there’s a definite shade of red creeping up on his face. It starts down his neck and then blossoms on his face all the way up to his bangs. “If you want to read it, I can give it back to you.”
“Nah. I’ll just read like this,” Akira says matter-oh-factly, and then adds, “Are you warm?”
“Not particularly.”
Akira doesn’t say anything. He studies Akechi’s face, the redness, the way his hands are gripping the book even tighter. And he wonders. He wonders if he’s finally managed to get under the skin of the impenetrable Goro Akechi. He wonders if he’s made a dent in what feels like miles of lead guarding Goro’s most precious belonging.
His most precious belonging.
“Akechi.”
“Yes?”
“If you had a Palace, what would your treasure be?”
“That’s an odd question to ask. If I didn’t know any better,” Akechi begins, sounding like he’s going to go on a ramble about how daringly bold and forward Akira is. He’s going to be infuriating and turn on that TV charm and completely shoot down any attempts Akira makes to learn something real about him.
“That I was hitting on you? Yeah, I guess.”
There’s a definite heavy silence that follows. It’s as if someone is expecting a sort of ‘got you’, either from one another or from a man with a camera hiding in the background, filming some reality show. But it never comes. Akira remains hovering over Akechi’s shoulder, wondering why the hell he just said that. Wondering when that actually became true. When his fascination over the stupid detective - who he just recently learned was going to betray him – turned into something a bit deeper. Something a bit fatal. Like moths to a flame, right?
Akira’s throat is dry but he’s playing it pretty cool. He’s just hovering and Akechi hasn’t done anything. Said anything.
“What a good joke. That must be why they call you Joker,” Akechi says in that stupid, sweet fake voice and Akira wants to smash his head against the wall.
He settles on placing a hand firmly down on Akechi’s shoulder. He isn’t sure how to handle any of this. He isn’t sure what to do. Why his heart is pounding and in his throat and why he is afraid that if Sojiro walks in this moment will be gone forever.
“Be real with me for two seconds,” Akira says slowly, calmly. He squeezes the hand on Akechi’s shoulder.
“Who said I wasn’t?”
Akechi is giving him nothing. Akechi isn’t giving him a damn inch and Akira wonders why he said anything in the first place. Why he’s trying so hard to prove the others wrong, to give Akechi another chance. He can’t save him if he doesn’t give him something to work with. If he doesn’t show him he’s worth saving.
When Akira doesn’t answer, Akechi surprisingly speaks. “…That book.”
“What about it?” Akira asks, dumbfounded.
“You asked what my Treasure would be, didn’t you? It’d be that book.”
“Really? Didn’t it just come out? It’s that important to you?” Akira rambles because he’s so confused and he’s actually getting Akechi to speak. Sure, he may be trolling him again but at least he’s speaking and Akira is willing to listen.
“I lied.”
Of course Akechi lied. He’s lying about a lot of things. Which one is he referring to? Akira breathes out through his nose, frustrated, not used to dealing with frustrating people like Akechi. He’s at his wit’s end and if he didn’t just lay his cards on the table moments ago, he’d be back upstairs sleeping.
“About?” Akira finally questions.
“That book came out many years ago. … It belonged to my mother before she died.”
“…Oh.” Akira feels like a jerk all of a sudden. That was more real than he was expecting. He knew that Goro Akechi had been the product of a bad household and then wandered around the foster care system. He understood not having somewhere he truly belonged. “That’s a good Treasure to have.”
Akechi feels like he’s about to launch himself out of Akira’s hold. “I don’t need your sympathy.”
“It’s empathy,” Akira corrects and he sits down on the vacant stool. “Listen, Akechi, if you need someone to talk to…”
“I don’t need a t—” Akechi cuts himself short, his words dangerously sharp.
Akira feels like he understands him in that moment. He doesn’t need a therapist. Something had happened to Akechi. The people that were supposed to protect him tossed him aside. People kept shoving responsibility for him to someone else. A therapist, a doctor, a foster parent. Akira can only imagine what it’s like. Sure, his life back at home wasn’t the best, but it had never rose to this level.
“Akechi,” Akira says, this time quieter, firmer. “Thank you for telling me.”
Akechi doesn’t answer.
“I know you don’t think it’s much, but it’s nice to learn something about you.”
Akechi still doesn’t answer.
Akira isn’t used to saying so much. Usually it’s everyone else rambling for hours to him. He’s not used to his own voice for this long.
“And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you need a therapist. Or anything. You’re strong enough on your own. But if you want friends, we’re here. If you want someone to just hear you out… I guess people tell me I’m pretty good at that.” Akira shakes his head. “…Dunno why. I usually don’t have the answer they want. Maybe it’s because I know when to stay quiet.”
Akechi clicks his tongue against his teeth and scoffs under his breath. “Oh?”
“Anyway… I know what it’s like to be alone. We all do.”
Akira lightly kicks at Akechi’s foot, this time not so hard. He learned his lesson. “Just keep that in mind.” He clears his throat and in classic Akira fashion adds a bit embarrassedly, “Guess you can also be happy that you’re the first person I ever told I was hitting on them. So I guess you’re pretty special.”
That’s enough to make Akechi turn. The speed in which the boy moves makes Akira think he’s going to get him, that the murderous bastard that wants to betray them and kill him is about to strike. But what he meets is a gaze that’s young and tired and just like him. Akechi is looking at him like he’s grown two heads and he can’t tell what emotion to feel first.
“Uh… Akechi?”
“Don’t do this.”
“…I’m not doing anything,” Akira admits, because, well, he doesn’t have enough guts to actually do anything.
“No.” Akechi shakes his head and looks away, as if he’s holding back years of torment. He’s shaking, Akira realizes. He’s shaking and Akira isn’t sure the middle of Leblanc is the best place to be having this conversation. “I don’t like you. You’re everything I hate about people. You’re not worth my time.”
Akira is wondering where such sharp words are coming from, but he doesn’t have time for that. He reaches for Akechi’s hand and yanks the skinny boy off the stool and on his feet.
“Upstairs. I don’t want Sojiro coming in. I think we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing—“
“No. There is. I’m not giving up on you.”
And it’s enough to dumbfound Akechi so that Akira can drag him through the café, up the back steps, and to the attic. It’s enough that Akechi just stands there stupidly as Akira begins pacing through his bedroom. It’s enough that Akira checks five times that Morgana is with Futaba and won’t interrupt this. It’s enough that Akira is losing his cool.
“Are you going to keep pacing? I’m getting awfully bored. And a bit dizzy.”
Akechi’s stupid voice cuts Akira’s thoughts and he stops pacing. He’s facing the shelf that’s full of memorabilia from his time living here. It’s a gentle reminder that people can change, that hearts can change.
“You told me about your Treasure for a reason,” Akira begins, his hand all but yanking his own hair out as he tries to put this all into words. “Even if you don’t have a Palace, I think that means something. I dunno how to steal treasure that isn’t in a Palace but… but I can try.”
Akechi leans back against the railing, avoiding his gaze.
“Because you want to change, right?”
Please say yes goes unspoken as Akira looks over at him, trying to make eye-contact. He hasn’t been this ruffled for awhile. His breathing is unsteady and he’s fairly certain Akechi’s matches.
Akechi looks like he’s curling in on himself. He looks small, arms folded closed to his chest, eyes on the floor, legs crossed as he stands there. He looks like so lost.
“Akechi—“
“It was foolish of me, to think that I deserved to be changed. That by simply giving you that book I would change who I am.”
Akira blinks once, twice, thrice, and deflates. So he hadn’t read into that. He isn’t sure if Akechi knows how much Akira knows about the plans for the casino, but that’s not important in this moment. What’s important is that Akechi isn’t being cryptic and he’s saying something that isn’t a riddle wrapped in an enigma.
“Yeah. It was foolish,” Akira says and takes a hesitant step closer, waving his hand to try and get Akechi to look up and over at him. “But it was a first step. And I’m kinda proud you managed to do that on your own.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Akechi mumbles, scowling oh so ugly. It doesn’t fit his pretty face. “I don’t need anyone.”
Akira shrugs at that and comes to rest mere inches in front of the detective. “You can punch me, if you want. Shove me for making fun of you.”
Akechi doesn’t answer.
Akira sighs, softer, and he awkwardly reaches out to test the waters and touch Akechi’s arm. When Akechi doesn’t pull away, Akira’s fingers wind in the fabric of his sleeve. The fabric is cool to the touch, but beneath it he can feel heat radiating off Akechi like a furnace. It’s a warmth he suddenly wants.
“I have your Treasure, Akechi. You don’t need to fight anymore.”
Akira somehow always had a way with words. Because the culmination of those words, said in such a way, said in such a tone, is enough to break whatever wall there was.
“Then understand that it’ll be best for the both of us, your friends included, if we went our separate ways before the Palace tomorrow. My stint as a Phantom Thief ends even before it begins, it seems.”
Akira realizes that he’s trying to save him. That he isn’t trying to set him up and go along with that horrible plan he had schemed. That Goro Akechi had managed to struggle through his own change of heart without Akira pressuring him with the knowledge that he knew what was going on. Akira is almost proud.
“ … ‘kay. But you said tomorrow.” Akira gives a tiny tug on the sleeve he’s still holding. There’s a stirring of a grin on his face as he manages to catch Akechi’s wandering eye. “There’s still right now.”
“Is that your corny way of – how did you phrase it? – hitting on me?”
Akira laughs, the sound bubbling in the air. “I guess?”
Akechi doesn’t laugh, but he looks a tad flustered. He looks like he’s been through hell, seen hell, and has barely lived to tell the tale. But he’s living and that’s what matters. What counts. His face is pink again and he doesn’t resist when Akira tugs him into the most awkward hug to have ever existed.
“You aren’t so bad, Detective,” Akira says in a hushed voice.
“You’re a troublesome person,” Akechi answers and his hand, tentative as hell, touches Akira’s side. Akira almost jumps in surprise, but he manages to play it cool. There’s a definite smile on his face and he wishes Akechi could see it. What Akechi says next, Akira realizes, is probably not meant for him to hear. “I’m glad I met you.”
Akira’s heart is beating so fast and he can’t help but pull away from the hug for just a second. He’s scanning Akechi’s bright red face, looking for a sign, any sign. It’s cool if Akechi isn’t into him, isn’t into anyone. It’s cool but Akira kind of wants to know so he can put this stupid crush – it’s definitely a crush – to bed and move on with his life. He’s young, he’ll rebound, Akechi can just be a bro like Ryuji –
Akira’s always been fairly blunt when he needs to be, and sometimes it’s because he says it before he thinks about it, like right now, “I don’t want to go separate ways tomorrow.” Akechi blinks at him, scrutinizing him, so Akira quickly continues, “I don’t care what reason you think you have, or who you want to protect. I can manage.”
Akechi doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he lifts a hand up to very carefully take Akira’s glasses in his hands. He leans to the right after that and deposits them neatly on the tiny table closest to them.
“…Uh?” Akira questions, not sure what that was about—
“You won’t need those.”
And Akechi kisses him. It’s not an experienced kiss but it’s definitely a kiss that conveys interest and emotion and probably the sentiment that he wants to date. It’s two teenage boys and they’re both mentally and physically exhausted. It’s two enemies trying to find common ground, realizing they’re more alike than either would like to admit. It’s a friend saving a friend from their own darkness. It’s changing a heart without using the Metaverse. It’s some kind of fate.
Akira can’t help himself from kissing back with tenacity, hands going to hold Akechi by the small of his back. He can’t help the way he wants to experience this kiss for all its worth. Because it should be a prize for dealing with the frustrating and headache inducing Detective. It should be a trophy that should be honored and admired. Because damn did his blood turn to fire when Akechi told him in that hushed whisper he wouldn’t be needing those.
The kiss turns a bit deeper, probing and searching for boundaries. Looking for new discoveries. Akira is certain that Akechi is backed against the railing, mostly from the fact that he can feel the wood pressing against the back of his hands that are firmly on Akechi’s back. It’s kind of hot, actually, kissing someone pressed up against something. He’ll have to remember that.
“Be my Princess?” Akira jokes as he breaks the kiss, desperate for air. His breathing is heavy and he’s wearing a goofy grin that’s similar to the bold one he gets in the Metaverse.
“So you did have an ulterior motive for picking that book,” Akechi notes smartly, fingertips ghosting the curves of Akira’s face. “I’m impressed.”
“You’ll be even more impressed in a few minutes,” Akira says confidently, albeit full of hot air, as he kisses him again. And again. He can deal with the consequences tomorrow. He can try and vouch for Akechi to the team tomorrow. He can figure out what they are and what’s happening in the morning. For now, until Sojiro realizes he’s up here, he just wants to be Them.
Whatever that is. Whatever Them is, with Akechi pressed against his every curve, his mouth tasting of stale coffee and desperation. His pretty brown eyes heavy as they close everytime Akira goes in for another kiss, getting better with every new exchange.
He wants this. He wants this more than anything.
Because Akechi deserves so much better than the world gave him, and Akira realizes, selfishly, he wants to be the one that fixes it.