Chapter Text
"I have someone I like."
Ryuji's heart slowed before it started hammering against his chest. He fumbled for his phone, shooting off a quick text: What're ya gonna say?! He could feel Mishima's gaze, but he had nothing to hide from him—not where his relationship with Akira was concerned.
Akira slipped his phone from his pocket, face devoid of the amusement he felt at making Ryuji so flustered. His fingers quickly moved across the screen to type out his response. I love Ryuji!
Mishima gasped softly, but Ryuji didn't hear him. Those words had never made an appearance before, until now. Even though they hadn't been spoken, the admission was here, in his hands. Ryuji stared at his phone, too stunned to form a reply. Akira watched him from beneath dark bangs, fighting the urge to leap off the stage and declare his love for the train wreck of a teen with dyed blond hair. He typed out two more responses, hoping at least one could bring Ryuji back to their present reality.
I love you, Sakamoto Ryuji.
Mishima. Stop reading his texts.
Mishima snorted, covering the sound with a soft cough. That seemed to snap Ryuji from his thoughts. With a disgruntled noise, he sent off a string of texts. Are you stupid?!
"Did you not see the bulletin board with our scores...?"
Ryuji kicked Mishima in the leg. He hesitated on his next line while the other teen rubbed his throbbing calf. Ryuji feared letting the whole school know about their relationship, especially since there were several students that still blamed him for the track team debacle; they would seek to use the newfound information against him.
I don't need that label on me!
I won't be able to come back here tomorrow!
Give me back the Akira I know!
Akira pocketed his phone after reading the last message and decided it was time for him to get off the stage. The student MC shared his sentiment, since his guest had nothing else to share.
-
"Which Akira do you know?" said teen sighed, hands in the pockets of his pants, where they usually resided. Along with Mishima, he and Ryuji decided to migrate to the roof after the stage debacle.
Ryuji kept his gaze downward. The Akira on the stage was every bit the Akira he knew. Conniving jerk that loved to see him squirm. Mishima broke the silence with an inelegant snort followed by raucous laughter. "Sakamoto...!"
"Mishima," Ryuji growled, rounding on the other teen. Mishima held out his arm, waving his hand as he tried to catch his breath.
"Ryuji," Akira called out softly. The blond stopped advancing on the laughing teen, redirecting his glare at Akira. The brunet freed a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. Ryuji recognized it as one his anxious tells and wondered what could make their leader feel so nervous.
"Ryuji. Given the way things are right now, even I can't guarantee what the future will bring."
Ryuji gritted his teeth. Akechi Goro and his blackmailing of the Phantom Thieves. He wasn't one of them—he was nothing like them! And now, they were going to be disbanded. Mishima's laughter had faded and he stared at his friends, wondering if he should give them their privacy.
Akira, omnipotent psychic that he is, obviously read his thoughts and told him to stay put as a witness. Mishima slipped his hands into his pockets and rooted himself in place. Akira thumbed the rounded edge of his phone where it resided in his pocket. "I meant what I said in that text, Ryuji. And I mean it now—"
Ryuji's eyes widened. "Akira—"
"I love you."
Mishima could feel his cheeks grow hot from the declaration. Ryuji snatched Akira by the front of his shirt and dragged him in for a kiss. He couldn't return those words—not yet, but hoped Akira understood his feelings nonetheless. Actions speak louder than words and Ryuji was all about action. Akira let his right hand settle on Ryuji's hip while the left removed the hand from his shirt and held it tight. 'I hear you, Ryuji.'
When the couple finally separated, Ryuji's cheeks were dusted pink, his lips pretty and swollen. Akira made to initiate a follow up attack, but a throat being cleared halted his actions. Mishima peeked out from behind his hands, face redder than Ryuji's. "As much as I love being the only non-Thief holding onto your secret, I feel embarrassed and jealous at the same time."
"I can kiss you too," Akira offered, nothing behind his words other than the innocence that often drew people in.
Mishima's gaze went from Akira to Ryuji. The blond tried to hide his blush behind his hand by scratching the bridge of his nose. "I don't mind," he muttered, the sound even more muffled. "Even though you used us, you're still a good guy. I'll give you as much kisses as I would punches."
"That's too many kisses!" Mishima shrieked. Ryuji laughed and reached out to pull him close. Mishima flailed in his hold, but Akira's arms from the other side pinned his own down and he found himself trapped between two very solid bodies. Mishima closed his eyes in wait, emitting a soft sound of excitement when lips pressed against his cheeks. He deflated in their arms, Ryuji's laughter floating somewhere above his head.
"You're not a zero, Mishima," Akira whispered against the shell of his ear. Mishima bit down hard on his trembling bottom lip, but the sharp pain he felt from his actions only helped to spur the tears along. A few escaped down his cheeks and he damned his trapped arms since he couldn't wipe them away.
"You got kissed by the Phantom Thieves—you should be happy!"
Akira gave up admonishing Ryuji for his volume and could only hope no one hovered inside the stairwell. "I think he is happy," he stated, freeing his left arm to wipe away Mishima's stray tears.
"Very," Mishima laughed, the sound followed by a sniffle. This was the best cultural festival he's ever been to.