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It’s late. Rain pitters against the window in his room against Leblanc and there’s a half-asleep Ryuji practically thrown across him, an arm over Akira’s chest and his head in the crook of his neck; it’s far from uncomfortable and to be quite honest, this kind of contact is the only thing that’s keeping him sane in the moment. If it weren’t for Ryuji’s presence right now there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d be tossing and turning in an attempt to sleep, plagued by anxiety and doubt and the lingering fear of that this may be his last day he’ll ever get.
At least Morgana’s over with Futaba running over the numbers and the plan one more time. Or maybe he did it so Akira could enjoy this moment in peace because no one can know what would happen tomorrow. He doesn’t know, but he’s grateful for this moment to be alone with Ryuji anyway.
Akira shuts his eyes, exhales slowly, and picks up his phone. November 18th. Twenty-six minutes to midnight. In the next twenty-four hours he’s going to run the highest stake game he’s ever ran before; he’s used to having his life on the line - his trips to Mementos and their palace runs were proof of this - but this time there’s something more about this whole situation. There’s no Arsene to protect him this time and there’s no way to tell what’ll happen after he gets captured.
Captured. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. There’s a multitude of scenarios that he plays out in his head. What are they going to do with him? Question him, naturally, but how? They’ll want to know about the Phantom Thieves and everything, but it’s the looming question of how they’ll question him.
Joker or not, he’s still a sixteen year old kid. His bones will break just as easily in the real world as they do in the Metaverse, and there’s no Morgana around to patch him up.
There’s a shift, a painful push of weight on his chest for a moment before Ryuji settles down again, shifting to lay on his stomach and creating a bit of space between them and moving his head to Akira’s arm to cast a glance up. “I don’t like this,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep.
“I know,” says Akira, “this bed is really uncomfortable.”
A half-hearted laugh at best is his reply. “That’s not what I’m talkin’ about.”
“But I’m still right, either way.”
Ryuji glares at him with hardly any real emotion behind it. He’s tired but there’s something more in his gaze that dances between the line of desperation and longing. He’s been hovering over Akira ever since the meeting stopped earlier today - he even went as far as to call his mom to let her know he was staying the night - and the protectiveness makes Akira feel… warm. Safe. But there’s still that fear and desperation underneath it all.
Akira knows, with absolute certainty, that his eyes reflect the same thing.
“It’ll be okay,” he says. It’s not a complete lie since he believes it enough to keep himself going.
Ryuji doesn’t look swayed. “‘Course you can say that now, but when it comes to later today: will it be?”
There’s a million different things he could say to this but right now there’s an unspoken need to be comforted tonight and if he tries to tell Ryuji the truth of what he thinks will happen then that rule will be shattered and broken. He files the responses, thinking of a way that’d make him laugh or smile, trying to cater to his humor and his personality. If he were a stronger person - maybe better, even - he wouldn’t resort to making himself fit what people wanted out of him.
But that is for later. Right now, he wants to comfort Ryuji above all else.
“What?” he asks in a incredulous tone, scoffing. “You think someone like him is gonna be able to take down someone like us?” Easy enough to indulge Ryuji’s pride. “C’mon, when have I ever been beaten?”
He takes the bait, a glint in his eyes as he rises to his elbows, nearly jabbing Akira in the side again. “Never. Well except that one time in--”
“Besides that one.”
“Then never, I guess.” His shoulders relax. “Sorry, it’s probably stupid of me to be so worried ‘bout all this. I just… hate it.”
Akira smiles wryly. “It’s not stupid. And you hate that I’m going into the wolves den, or that you won’t be able to do anything?”
“Both. I mean, like, yeah I’m so ready to finally beat these bastards but--” He stops, gnawing on his lower lip as he shifts his gaze around to anywhere but Akira’s. “I ain’t happy about sending you in there to do it.”
“I agreed to this. Being a Phantom Thief was never supposed to be a walk in the park.”
Ryuji lets out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, Kamoshida’s taught us that much. Shit’s always been difficult.”
“God, right? And that maze in the casino we had to deal with earlier. No one could see except for me and Morgana so we ended up having to hold hands in a line and avoid Shadows at the same time.”
“Well, except you got to kill some Shadows,” reminds Ryuji and the sides of his mouth curl up, and he’s almost beaming with pride before his expression sours. “Hate being useless again, though.”
His eyebrows knit together. "You’re not useless, Ryuji,” he says with the same tone that he uses when he’s Joker, and he looks down at Ryuji seriously. “You’ve never been useless. You know if I gave you five yen everytime you saved me in the Metaverse, you’d be as rich as the Prime Minister right now. Even out of the Metaverse, you’re always there by my side supporting me, protecting me. I wouldn’t be where I am right now without you, you know? You helped me get my Persona, but you’ve also helped me become a better person.”
“Akira,” Ryuji awkwardly laughs, cheeks burning red as he averts his gaze. Okay, so maybe he overdid it but with all the heavy tension lately someone’s got to remind him how important he is.
“It’s the truth,” he continues. “All this time, you’ve been doing so much for me and the others.” His gaze softens and he can’t help but feel immense love for Ryuji right now, heart swelling with affection. “You’re always there for us and looking out for us, and you’ve picked us up when we’ve fallen down. I like you because you’re you, and you make me happy and safe.”
There’s a pause of silence like a bubble ready to burst before Ryuji buries his face into the bed, groaning as he mumbles: “How can you just say this stuff?”
“Easy,” Akira replies, “it’s cause we’re dating.”
Brown eyes peek up at him once more as Ryuji slowly moves - with a lot of satisfaction on Akira’s part - with a nice shade of red on his face. “Really like to one-up me, huh?”
“I like telling you how I feel. And I like seeing you blush because it makes you cuter.”
There’s another groan as the blush deepens, Ryuji pushes Akira’s side and practically shoves him up against the wall as he laughs and laughs and laughs. And when he couldn’t laugh anymore he finally leaned over to press a goodnight kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, praying to any God that was listening that it wouldn’t be his last.
----
“Promise me,” Ryuji mumbles, holding Akira close as they lay tangled under the sheets. There’s no telling where he begins and Ryuji ends but he doesn’t care. Ryuji’s holding him as if he’s made of glass and shielding him from the rest of the world and it’s seven in the morning and it’s just them. Just them together in this small world of theirs. “Promise me you’re gonna come back alive.”
Facing away from Ryuji is the only comfort he has right now because he’s having a hard time holding back his own emotions and fear, a terrible lump in his throat makes it harder to speak and there’s a stinging in his eyes that’s not from the morning sun.
“I promise,” he says and he hopes it’s not a lie. He almost wants to tack on a ‘I love you’ just in case.
Just in case he--
----
He doesn’t remember the rest of the day after he woke up.
He doesn’t remember a lot of things actually, not at first. There’s a sharp throbbing pain in his head when he thinks and there’s too much pain and everything all over his body that he can’t even make himself stay awake after they’re done with the ‘first round’ of interrogation.
He’s not sure he’ll want to remember anyway, and letting himself slip under is the only peace they’ll let him have.
“Hey!” Sae’s voice is a harsh whisper filled with fear, her hand on his shoulder makes his entire body burn with pain as he hisses out whatever air he has left in his lungs. They must be close to Leblanc or somewhere safe because the car’s rolled to a stop and Sae’s leaning over the driver seat looking down at him with a frown and concern all over her face. “Stay awake, Akira. I need you to stay awake.”
There’s a bright red light from the front of the car and he groans again, and that makes his throat burn from the lack of water. Not safe, he would’ve realized if he was coherent enough, but just stopped. Waiting. He gives Sae another noncommittal groan of pain as the red light changes to green and his head swims at the change. Even laying down, he feels dizzy and like he’s drifting away, vision black at the edges.
Sae’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder for the rest of the ride.
----
There’s a fog in his head, he’s certain. It clouds his memories and his senses and leaves him drifting at sea and the thread to consciousness is something he can barely reach, barely follow to get him back to his normal self. When he’s awake, everything is too distant and far off that he can’t keep up -- he gets exhausted even trying to follow along whatever Sojiro is saying and he falls asleep far more than he should.
At least Sojiro’s letting him use a room in his house instead of the attic of Leblanc. It’d be very weird to find his “dead” body in the attic, Akira thinks. It’d ruin their plan too.
He stirs when there’s another hand on his shoulder and the distinct smell of coffee wading through his senses, the comforting voice pulling him out of the sea of his conscious with a heavy sigh. Blinking into focus is the outline of Sojiro with bags under his eyes and exhaustion plain on his features holding a water bottle and a bottle of what Akira hopes is his pain-killers. They’d be nice right about now since there’s a dull ache everywhere and the more he wakes up the more sensation he’s getting from the bruised and somewhat broken areas of his ribs and legs, probably his arms too, and he’s hating it all the same.
“C’mon, kid, bear with me for a moment,” Sojiro grumbles, slipping an arm under Akira’s and helping him sit up against the numerous pillows around him. Akira hisses as the pain flares again. “Sorry, I know you’re hurting like hell right now.”
“It’s okay,” Akira says automatically.
Sojiro’s eyes narrow but the look on his face goes to one of exasperation - and fondness, Akira notes dully - instead. “It’s not okay. They did a number on you, and I know you won’t be able to take Dr. Takemi’s painkillers for it everytime. Look, here-” he hands over the water bottle, letting Akira grasp onto it with shaking hands as he pulls out the medicine. “-shouldn’t be too hard now since you can talk a bit more.”
It’s not. He swallows down the pills with only a grimace this time and Sojiro pats his arm in a comforting way.
“Tomorrow,” Sojiro says, again sighing as he does, “Futaba said the rest of your friends were gonna come over but… Geez, kid, I don’t even know if you can handle them all at once right now.”
I can’t. “I can.”
“Don’t go acting tough for my sake,” Sojiro reprimands almost immediately, watching Akira with a far too observant gaze. Damn, he knew? “Futaba will probably be with you all tomorrow morning, so I’ll funnel them in one at a time. No more than two people in the room. I don’t need you getting overwhelmed, okay?”
Ah, how much he missed this tough love. It’s felt like it’s been months since he’s had it, but that’s probably because of the fog in his head making everything feel out of reach. “Okay,” he agrees, pauses, then adds, “Thank you.”
“Hell, don’t thank me. I’m doing the bare minimum.” There’s a soft pat on his head just like every time Sojiro comes by since he’s been in the house. “Go back to sleep, kid. I’ll feed you when you’re rested.”
He doesn’t even get to say another thank you. Sleep’s already pulling him back under by the time Sojiro’s by the door.
----
His friends come and go over the span of the day with the only exceptions being a Futaba staying in the desk in the corner of the room, legs pulled up to her chest as she watches the rest of the Thieves slowly enter one by one. Morgana lingers too, by Akira’s head or on the pillows but with the way he’s flinches everytime the black cat dances in and out of his peripheral vision, he joins Futaba in the corner as a silent guardian. Akira wants to apologize, really, because it’s not Morgana’s fault but everytime he opens up his mouth to do so, the cat almost knows what he’s about to say and shushes him with a bright blue-eyed glare.
Fine, he thinks with a huff, he gets it now.
Makoto comes in first at ten in the morning sharp, two days after they pulled off their plan and she’s got an assortment of stuff to keep Akira occupied once he’s healed. Just because you’re not in school, she said as she put down the box near the nightstand, doesn’t mean you can slack off in your studies. It’s a nice gesture and ultimately the one she could only think of which makes it nicer; Akira likes studying anyway, so he smiles and thanks her with as much strength in his voice.
Futaba must’ve deemed it clear to add in another person into the room because Haru comes in next with a bright smile and a cheery attitude that Akira missed with all his being, her gifts are the coffee beans that she’s eager to share with him and even more determined to make for him when Sojiro comes home. She’s easy to fill the silence that Akira himself can’t fill - his voice is too hoarse and throat in too much pain to even be used - so she talks about the garden and school, Makoto joining in the conversation occasionally.
Yusuke and Ann come in the room together, having arrived at the Sakura residence at the same time and Akira had to give Morgana a look that said he was able to talk to more than two people at once, thank you you nosy, overprotective cat. Besides it’s lunch time and Makoto and Haru stepped out to make some food for everyone in the house - or to go pick it up, he doesn’t quite remember.
No one’s commented on what Akira went through, or what injuries he’s sustained. No one even seems to breathe a word about the Palace or the Metaverse or anything. Just a long glance at the painkillers on the nightstand before they smile and talk about normal things like normal people.
Yusuke talks about his own school and how everyone is reacting, about his art and his new pieces with another thank you to Akira for inspiring him and Ann talks about her modeling and what they’ve been doing in the meantime. She talks about the mini study group that Makoto held and how she and Ryuji had to ask Makoto for a lot of help on most of them. Yusuke, laughing quietly, jokes about how the two of them would be failing right about now if it weren’t for Akira’s own study groups.
Ryuji… Akira furrows his brows, noticing all too suddenly how the blond hasn’t made an appearance yet even though the clock is reading [1:37 PM] all too clearly in bright red letters. Maybe he’s just worrying too much, or maybe he’s being too clingy? Ryuji’s been texting him almost non-stop since Akira’s got his phone now - courtesy of Futaba - but still the fact that he’s not here makes him both worried and suspicious.
“Hey guys,” Makoto calls from downstairs, “could we get a little help making the food?”
“That’s our cue,” Futaba says quietly enough that Akira strains himself to hear her, and all it does is make him curious. He’s quite confident that he knows what’s about to happen if Futaba and Morgana are both leaving the room as well, but still--they’ve always liked to surprise him.
They leave him to his own devices, Ann giving him a warm smile and Yusuke promising to make him a delicious meal when they return. Though with the slow thuds of people heading down the stairs and the even quieter thuds of someone coming up, Akira’s already preparing himself for what’s about to happen. A shame his arms are in too much pain to grab the painkillers and hide them.
“Knock, knock,” says the devil of his thoughts, his voice far too quiet and far too somber for normal.
“Come in,” Akira says, voice cracking in the middle. He clears his throat, wincing as the pain aches across the back of it. The door creaks open and Ryuji steps inside, his familiar easy-going smile plastered onto his face as he looks around. His eyes sweep over the guest room in Sojiro’s house, glancing at the unusual and unfamiliar knick-knacks in the room. Akira doesn’t miss the way his smile falters for a brief second before it feels like a forced mask on his face when Ryuji glances at him, then to the painkillers.
“How you feeling?” Akira can pick out the anger that’s in his voice. Subdued, controlled, but there all the time. Ryuji settles himself gently on the side of the bed near Akira, looking him over.
Akira smiles. “Better, now that you’re here.”
“Geesh, you always lay it on thick, huh?” Ryuji laughs, even if his face is red.
“Just saying the truth.”
It’s good that his voice is holding up for the most part. His throat aches when he speaks but the minor pain is worth it to talk to Ryuji. He forces himself to shift, scooting over in the bed until he’s nearly against the wall and pats the space next to him. “C’mere.”
Ryuji stares at him. Or rather: he’s staring at the barely covered bandages over him. “Akira.”
“I’m not gonna break. And I want to be held so either you do that or I become a cocoon of blankets, never to--” He has to stop and cough, wincing the entire time. “--see the light of day again.”
Rolling with eyes with a groan at his boyfriend’s dramatics, Ryuji does move over, leaning back against the plethora of pillows and looking somewhat comfortable. It’s definitely weird being in Sojiro’s house rather and Leblanc, but Akira doesn’t really care. He curls up against Ryuji’s side, dragging the blanket over the both of them and settles in with a content sigh. It’s nice. It’s the safest he’s felt since leaving the interrogation room, curled against his side with eyes closed and not afraid of any shadows or police officers; it’s strange, but not unwelcome, with how those thoughts and memories seem to dissipate in his mind when he’s with Ryuji. When there’s a hand that’s running soothingly up and down his back, when there’s a soft kiss pressed against the top of his head.
He’s safe, Akira knows. Right here tucked safely around Ryuji, there’s nothing that could hurt him. No one could get through the group of friends making food in the kitchen downstairs, no one that could get past Ryuji and the way that he holds him tight and safe. He’s home.
“I love you,” Ryuji says quietly. Akira smiles. He’s glad he got to hear that again.
“I love you too,” Akira mumbles back. He’s glad he got to say that again.