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A blustery January bleeds into a frigid February. Valentine’s Day comes and goes, Poirot adorned in pink and red for the occasion and Rei selling coloured cakes and chocolate dainties to blushing young women to take home for their lovers.
It’s a reminder, as if he needed one, of the fact that he still hasn’t received a reply from Akai. Still hasn’t received a reissuance of the FBI agent’s unexpected request – if I asked you, would you take me into your heart?
Since Scotch’s death, Rei has felt like a kite flying with no one holding the string. Scotch was his last connection to his former life – to his childhood, to the academy. He cut the rest of his friends out of his life the day he dyed his hair and went undercover. Even Kazami is a new acquisition, a handler assigned to him last year.
Akai is different. He knows a side of Rei that no one else left alive does. Knows not only Rei’s masks but his true face. He never thought anything of it before, but since the night Akai laid his heart bare, Rei’s been increasingly aware of it. Increasingly aware of the bond he and Akai share. Has, increasingly, been imagining the FBI agent’s hands on his skin.
So, when a text comes from Akai at 10pm asking him to meet in a nearby park, Rei doesn’t hesitate. He wraps up in a warm coat, gloves and scarf. He brings his phone, and because of who he is after all, he brings his gun.
***
Snow is falling softly across Beika: big, feathery flakes. It has been since mid-afternoon, and by now with the reduced traffic the roads and sidewalks are beginning to be covered. There’s almost five centimeters of it where it hasn’t been trampled down.
As Rei enters the park he sees that most of the ground here is covered in a spotless blanket; the children have been in bed for hours, leaving the ground to be uniformly coated. It’s dusted over the bare cherry tree branches, creating a confectionary look. It drifts down thick and silent under the park’s streetlights.
The world around them is still in a way Tokyo never otherwise is. Snow slows traffic and dampens sound. Most everyone is inside, huddled away in the warmth of their beds or under their kotatsu. The world feels silent, empty.
Except for the tall man in black standing under a lamppost by the covered benches, smoking a cigarette. Akai Shuuichi looks a shadow of his usual self; he’s lost weight, his already-sharp cheekbones absurdly prominent, his usually tan skin pale. He drops the cig into the snow as he catches sight of Rei.
“What,” demands Rei, walking up to him, “have you been doing to yourself?”
“Nice to see you too,” drawls Akai. He’s dressed in a woollen coat that accentuates his leanness, his ever-present knit beanie dusted with snow. His cat-green eyes are sharp as always.
“You look like a goddamn runner-bean.”
“Tall and delicious?” replies Akai, smiling.
Rei crosses his arms. “Thin as fuck. Seriously – what have you been doing?”
“Is that concern I hear, Furuya-kun?”
“If you have a good explanation, it might let you off the hook for your radio silence. That’s all.”
Akai steps closer to him; Rei looks up at him but doesn’t move away, allowing Akai to step into his space. “Why don’t we have a seat?” he suggests, ungloved hand brushing against Rei’s elbow; Rei’s heart gives a tiny lurch in his chest. He leads the way to the small covered seating area, just a couple of benches under an a-frame roof to keep off sun and snow.
Rei follows and sits down beside him, looking at their paired footprints in the snow. He brushes flakes from his shoulders. “I’m waiting,” he says, impatiently.
“I was on assignment for the Bureau. Tracking down a mole taking refuge in Ikebukuro. It was a hard chase – nothing more. But it did delay my personal plans.”
“And apparently your meals,” says Rei sourly. “It’s not concern,” he adds quickly, before Akai can challenge him on it. “it’s just a fact.”
“I see.” Akai looks out at the snowy world beyond their tiny shelter, at the flakes already filling their footprints. Rei follows his gaze. “It transforms the world – for a time. While the snow stays everything is serene; beautiful. Then it’s gone, and it might as well never have been.” He sounds tired, cynical. His breath is white in the cold air, his cheeks pink.
Rei wonders suddenly why he’s been called out. He had assumed Akai was making another play at his heart, that this would be a second chance for them. Now he’s not so sure.
“Are you saying that change is an illusion?” asks Rei, frowning.
“No. Simply that sometimes what seems to be an improvement is only temporary – and perhaps not worth it in the end.”
“And sometimes,” flares Rei, surprising himself, “change teaches us to better appreciate what’s around us. Shows us that there is beauty in everything, even if we can’t always see it.”
Akai looks to him, surprise painted across his face.
Rei continues, heatedly, “Are you trying to write us off because you’re exhausted and sardonic? I’m not impressed, Akai Shuuichi. Not at all. I thought you had more staying power – that you wouldn’t give up until you got what you wanted.”
“Am I not allowed to be weak?”
“No,” snaps Rei, grabbing his shoulder. “Not for one instant. That’s not who you are. You’re a smug, self-confident, insufferable bastard who never takes no for an answer. And you’re the only one who knows what I am – and what I need. Don’t throw that away.”
It never once occurred to him that Akai might renege on his request. Much less so how much it would terrify him. Somehow, in the long nights that have passed since the time in Akai’s safe house, he’s let the FBI agent into his heart. He hadn’t realised just how deeply into this instant.
To his surprise, Akai laughs. Leans back and laughs like the dog he is, the clouds of his breath rising. “Well played,” he says. “I should have known I could come to you to have my pity thrown back in my face. It was unsightly, and for that I apologize.”
Rei blinks, but says nothing. Akai apparently takes this as license to continue.
“What do you need, Furuya-kun,” asks Akai, leaning closer. “A passionate lover? A sparring mate? A secret-keeper? I can be all of those things in turn, but none of them define me.”
“This isn’t an interview; I’m not looking for a list of talents.”
“Then tell me what you need. I want to hear it.”
Rei swallows, his grip on the FBI agent’s shoulder slipping. Then courage flares within him, like a match in the dark. “I need you,” he says. “I need the only person left alive who understands me. I need the fool who took responsibility for Scotch’s death to protect me, and the bastard who let me believe in that lie all these years, and the man who told me the truth.”
And, before he can regret it, before Akai can process it, he leans in and kisses the FBI dog under the snowy lamplight.
Akai’s lips are soft and warm; his arms encircle Rei and drawn him closer. One naked hand rises to feather the hair at the nape of Rei’s neck; Akai’s fingers are cold but the sensation of their touch makes Rei’s heart hammer.
The kiss soon turns from soft and careful to hard and passionate, each of them eager for more, hungry for fulfilment. The snow and the park are forgotten; they are alone in a world of their own, and for just this moment there’s no Black Organization, no shot on the roof, no dead comrades.
When they break apart Rei is panting, his head spinning and his heart pounding. Akai’s cheeks have gone from pink to red, his pupils wide and dark ringed by jade-green. They sit in silence for a moment, the cold beginning to sink in again. Then:
“You could use a good meal or two,” says Rei, once again assessing Akai’s lanky form. “Dinner? Tomorrow? My place?”
Akai smiles. “I’d like that.”
Rei stands. “Then don’t be late. I don’t like men who renege on their promises.”
“That, never,” replies Akai. And he leans in to kiss Rei again.
END