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Ryuji was many things.
Ryuji was loud. Akira could always rely on him to fill up silent spaces and make him feel whole again. Wherever Ryuji was, there was always noise, and Akira liked that, a lot more than he let on. Because with Ryuji, he was never alone. His laugh and voice would creep into the deepest, darkest corners of Leblanc, brightening them up. Well, it did, until slowly Ryuji stopped laughing, his mouth firmly shut during meetings, and the darkness came back, engulfing Leblanc entirely.
Ryuji was brave. He would never hesitate in battle, always ready to fight, to protect the team with his entirety, constantly placing himself in danger for the sake of others. He would take a shadow’s attack with a grin on his face, somehow, and only cry from the pain when he was with Akira. Still, even as he cried from the pain, hands curling into Akira’s shirt, he was still much braver than Akira was. He was still brave when he stopped crying from the pain entirely, still brave when he started recklessly throwing himself into battle, still brave when he refused to talk.
Ryuji was smart. He was smarter than most people thought, just not conventionally. In battle, his quick mind rivalled Akira’s, and Akira enjoyed having someone who could pick everything up as quickly as him. Ryuji was the person Akira went to if he wanted help with battle techniques, and Ryuji always had the answer. Until he didn’t, and Akira went to Makoto instead, frustration building when she just didn’t understand what he meant, but Ryuji didn’t want to help anymore.
Ryuji was clingy. Not in a bad way, he just always had to have his arm across someone’s shoulder, or leaning on them in some way, or his hands patting them on the back as congratulations. Akira particularly liked the head pats he would get sometimes, rough hands ruffling his hair followed with a grin. He didn’t notice how clingy Ryuji was until he stopped reaching out, started to shrink into himself instead, Akira’s shoulder cold from the lack of an arm around it.
Ryuji was loving. He loved too much, forgiving them each and every single time a joke went too far, or Akira had to cancel plans, or when Akira forgot his birthday, or when Akira just left him behind for new people. His love never wavered, even if he was a little quiet and left alone most of the time. He loved the Phantom Thieves too much, so much he was willing to risk his life for them, running into the flames of Shido’s ship just so they could be safe. And what did Akira do with that love-the love that was directed at him as well?
He walked away. And when he came back, it was too late.
Akira remembered everything. He had been talking with the Thieves, all celebrating Shido’s collapse, everyone chattering loudly, but not loud enough. Akira was unsettled, the image of Ryuji slumped against a lamppost flicking into his mind. He was too cowardly to ask them to stop beating Ryuji up, so he had walked away.
His phone buzzed, and he opened it, everything seeming to stop as he read the text.
Sorry.
Morgana glanced over his shoulder, sighing when he saw who it was from. “He’s probably apologising for what happened today, just leave him alone.”
And Akira, too cowardly to stand up for himself, nodded and tucked his phone away.
He should’ve stood up and ran, ran towards Ryuji and apologise for everything, promise to be a better person, promise to make everything better. He should’ve ignored everyone around him, after all, who had been there since the start? Ryuji.
The image of Ryuji swinging from a rope was burned into his mind, the heart broken cry from Ryuji’s mother still ringing through his head months later. Akira kneeled down, leaning onto Ryuji’s grave and clinging onto it like it was a lifeline. Forehead resting against the cold stone, he begged with any higher power to bring Ryuji back.
He was met with silence.
“I’m sorry, Ryuji. I’m sorry.”