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So he’d kissed Goro Akechi.
Things should’ve settled in after that. They’d spent that day cuddling, until Goro had finally gotten his way and forced him to actually learn about Philosophy (with the mean trick of reading the chapters to him with that smooth, wonderful voice of his).
It had been weirdly perfect.
Except now he had actually managed to be crossed out of the tutoring class and somehow, in the few busy days between his and Akechi’s exams, distance had grown between them like a giant, Akira-eating, rapidly growing plant.
Well, distance and… Sumire Yoshizawa.
As it turned out, Akira was a really horrible friend who had not realised he was going to university with one of his other friends until it was too late and he saw them sitting together at lunch, very close, chatting friendly over their perfect-people salads, while Akira bitterly sat three tables away, totally not watching them over his common-people fries.
When had they gotten so close? She touched him and he didn’t even flinch, just sat there and grinned at her in a comfortable, friendly manner. Not his snarky, sarcastic sneer he gave everyone else - including Akira - but something so much softer.
God, why hadn’t he told him that she was the reason he’d tried to refuse his constant invites for dates? This was… humiliating.
Somehow, after everything, after Akechi’s obsession with him, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him - That he could like someone else. Someone common.
No, that was mean. God, he was being so mean. Sumire wasn’t common, she was his friend.
His friend who had watched him miss Akechi for so many years without saying a word to him that he was actually alive and well and with her.
He felt stupid.
And it stung.
Okay, okay, he could salvage this. With a dry mouth, he pushed back his chair, grabbed his tray and moved over to their table. He could do this, right? No matter what idiocy he’d harassed Akechi with, he was Sumire’s friend. He could just say hello. He could totally do this.
“Hey, Sumi.”
Sumire looked up, stunned for a second.
“Oh! Akira-kun! I had no idea you were here, too!”
“Yeah, I’ve just started,” Akira replied, willing his hands not to shake as he avoided Akechi’s drilling gaze.
He hadn’t told her. He hadn’t told her about him. About them .
He had to make him understand that he wouldn’t either. No way was he going to destroy the only healthy relationship he’d ever seen Akechi Goro have.
“So uh, you and Akechi, huh?” he asked instead, tone gentle, non-threatening.
“Oh, yes,” she grinned at Goro who grinned back easily.
Wow.
Okay.
This was new. This was weird. This would take getting used to. This was totally fine. He was completely fine.
“We’ve gotten a lot closer since we started university here at the same time.”
“Yeah. Uhm.”
Okay, he couldn’t do this.
“I’ll see you later, then. Enjoy lunch.”
Out, just out, just out.
Akira ran out of the cafeteria as fast as he could without looking like he was running - it was more as if he was, well, speed walking - and fled out to the park, letting the cold air wash away the panic threatening to overwhelm him.
Had they seemed awkward? It had seemed awkward. Like he was a third-wheel between two people he’d brought together in the first place.
Great.
Just like old times.
“So uhm,” Morgana’s voice came dully from the inside of his bag. “Guess you won’t be writing any more essays for him, huh?”
“Have you asked him yet?”
Akira, sitting bored senseless in his philosophy class, was listlessly scribbling onto his paper, ignoring the constant talking of the professor in favour of half-heartedly listening to the two girls in the row behind him babbling about the ball.
“Not yet,” one of them just whispered to her friend, loud enough for half the hall to hear, undoubtedly.
Akira wondered what Akechi was doing, right now. Probably something nerdy. Probably something with Sumire .
“He’s always with that girl, what’s her name?”
“Yoshizawa,” the other girl said with such a hate-filled voice, Akira flinched at the sound of it, only just keeping himself from turning around. “That little Miss Perfect.”
“I bet she wants him all to herself. She’s constantly glued to his side, craving his attention. As if he’d ever wanted someone like her. She’s so stuck-up.”
Akira was relieved - for several reasons, but mostly for his own redeemability - that he was feeling anger bubble underneath his calm facade, seething and protective, as he turned around with a smile so sweet, Akechi would’ve feared for his medal in the sports, had he seen it.
“She’s not craving anyone’s attention, she’s clearly got it. They’re close. Maybe you should try to be happy for them if you like Akechi as much as you claim you do, instead of insulting his friends.”
They exchanged a look, seemingly unaffected, then one of them curled her lips at him, not bothering to even pretend to lower her voice as she replied, “Shut up and talk to your cat, freak.”
Akira turned back around, his hands clenched to fists underneath the table, his heart beating fast.
“Don’t worry about it,” came Morgana’s voice muffled from inside the bag. “You know you’re not a freak because I’m not a cat.”
How utterly comforting.
Akira saw the two girls again earlier than he would’ve liked. After Philosophy class, he found them swarming around Akechi and Sumire at lunch, giggling and grinning and nudging Akechi playfully whenever they could, trying some sort of ridiculous mating ritual that seemed to go completely over his head.
Sumire watched it all with a politely-amused expression on her face that filled Akira with mild relief. At least they didn’t seem to be openly rude to her.
He hesitated one second, then another, then grabbed his tray with a determined grip and made his way over to their table, letting himself fall onto a chair just opposite Akechi. Immediately, he found everyone’s eyes on him, ignoring them all in favour of the rust-red ones right in front of him, piercing him with sharp attention.
“Hi,” he said as casually as possible, trying to ignore the way his heart beat up to his throat.
“Hello Akira-senpai,” Sumire greeted him warmly.
Akechi nodded, shortly, just once, unblinkingly keeping his eyes on him.
Jeez, and they called him a freak?
“How are you doing, Goro ?” he purred, just to piss the girls off who were staring at him with open disdain, resting his chin on both hands as he beamed at him.
Akechi raised a single eyebrow, seeming to get what was going on without getting anything at all.
“Better, now that you’re here, Akira ,” he replied, tone pointed even as his lips twitched to hold back an amused smirk. “How was class?”
“Oh, not bad. If only I could’ve heard more of it. Some people were constantly talking loudly behind me.” He rolled his eyes in exaggerated manner, before turning to the two girls with a wide grin.
They had visibly paled now.
“Anything you wanted?”
Akechi looked up to them just as sweetly, bashing his eyelashes in a gesture that had to seem innocent for anyone who didn’t know him like Akira did.
“Ah yes. You said you wanted to ask me something?”
Their eyes flickered from Akechi to Akira and to Sumire, then back again.
“Nevermind,” one of them finally mumbled and they rushed off without another word, clinging to each other as if they were afraid to get lost in an imaginary crowd if they didn’t.
“Odd people,” Akechi hummed before taking a bite of his apple. “What was that all about?”
Sumire giggled.
“They clearly wanted to ask you out for the ball.”
“Oh?” To Akechi’s credit, he seemed genuinely oblivious. Then again, he was an unusually good actor, so who could really tell? (Akira. Akira could. He was sure of that.)
“Oh, come on, Goro,” Sumire replied, tone amused and patient. “Plenty of girls have already asked you. Even some guys. You can’t possibly be surprised anymore at this point.”
“Well, they never asked,” Akechi replied with a shrug, turning to look for them with a frown, but they had long fled the scene.
“No, they didn’t, because they know I heard them shittalk Sumire earlier,” Akira grinned before taking a spoonful of his soup.
Sumire paled next to him and he immediately felt sorry. Stupid, insensitive idiot.
“They did what?” Akechi growled, a familiar, dangerous sound that made pleasant shivers run down Akira’s back. “Where did they go, I will-”
“Oh, no, Goro, calm down.”
He did, Akira noticed. The second she rested her hand on his shoulder, he could watch the tension in his body lift a little as Akechi sacked back into his chair, lips pinched together in obvious anger.
“I’m getting tired of people treating you this way. Their jealousy is unfounded, ridiculous and presumptuous. It’s not like I would consider any of them even if you weren’t in the picture.”
Akira’s soup suddenly tasted like ash on his tongue.
Sumire shot him a quick look.
“Are you planning on going to the ball at all?” she asked quietly. “You still haven’t agreed to any company.”
Akechi was grumpily staring down at his apple, turning it in his hand again and again without taking another bite, clearly having lost his appetite.
Akira tried not to stare too openly, tried to bring his heartbeat back under control as it seemed to attempt to escape his chest through force alone. He wasn’t going with Sumire?
“No,” he finally said. “Yes. I don’t know. I don’t particularly care about this sort of thing, but my bloody therapist thinks it’s a good idea to… mingle .”
He said the word with so much disgust, Akira couldn’t help the little snort into his soup.
Akechi gave him a withering stare.
“Well, you’re going to have to accept someone’s invitation eventually,” Sumire said with a gently scolding tone, thankfully steering Akechi’s intensity away from him so Akira felt himself able to breathe again.
(God, these beautiful, dangerous, calculating eyes, on him and only him, he had missed them so much.)
“Otherwise the whole mingling plan will have some obvious flaws.”
Deciding he had held back long enough, Akira started the attempt of an inconspicuous, harmless question, trying to hide his eagerness in a deep, deep pit in his soul, far away from his voice.
“You two aren’t going together, then?”
“Oh.” Sumire was blushing. “No. I have a date. Someone from my Gymnastics course asked me out and… well… I was hoping he might for a while.”
She smiled so warmly at him and suddenly Akira felt like an absolute idiot. He’d spent so many months unreasonably mad at her, and for what? For being close to Goro? They weren’t even together. Fuck.
A rush of sweet, powerful joy flooded him as he finally processed what he hadn’t allowed himself to even hope for for months. They weren’t together! Which meant that… that… he’d spent months avoiding the guy he had kissed for absolutely no reason.
Aw.
Fuck.
That joy died as fast as it had arrived.
He felt Akechi’s eyes back on him and raised his own, looking back into a face that was calm again, calculating, watching him intently.
“What about you?” Akechi finally asked in the same sweet (threatening) tone he’d used on the girls earlier. “Are you going to the ball, Akira ?”
“Oh,” Akira stuttered, thrown by the use of his name and the suddenly undivided attention of Goro Akechi. “Well. Uhm. I- I don’t know. I haven’t asked anyone yet. I wouldn’t want to go alone.”
“Well, you better hurry then,” Akechi replied, smiling pleasantly (deadly). “If you wait too long, all the good ones will be unavailable, after all. They won’t wait forever.”
Akira had almost done it. He’d already felt the words on the tip of his tongue, had already opened his mouth, when he suddenly remembered the amount of people Sumire claimed Akechi had already rejected. Thought about his cutting words about people’s jealousy who didn’t stand a chance, anyway.
Closed his mouth again.
Opened it again, with new words laid out on his tongue, words that tasted a lot bitterer.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
He tried. He really tried. All around him, people were talking about one thing and one thing only: The ball.
And somehow, it had turned into a little challenge, a dare the entire school seemed to be in on, to ask out Goro Akechi.
Akechi seemed as oblivious as he was the day of their lunch together. Every once in a while, Akira would see him being stopped in the aisles by girls, wearing the shortest dresses or tons of make-up in hopes of achieving something where they had failed before and giggling around him as if they’ve forgotten how to form words (and Akira could hardly blame them).
On rarer, but still several occasions, he could even listen in on some cocky guys asking him out, after announcing to their friends that it was clear to them that Goro Akechi obviously played for their team.
( Hah , Akira thought, I so hope you are right .)
Akechi rejected them all with a rather cruel twinkle in his eyes that none of them seemed to quite catch.
(Though, Akira noticed, he was a lot more polite towards the people asking him out in a shy, friendly manner rather than the cocky and almost performative behaviour that most of them showed him. There was a rather cute trans guy Akira had actually considered asking out himself, who got a smile so sweet from Akechi, it almost took Akira’s breath away. Okay it totally took Akira’s breath away. Akira had A Problem. That was at least how Morgana called it. Currently desperately gasping for breath, Akira found himself unable to disagree.)
There was, however, still a tiny spark of hope feverishly gleaming inside of Akira’s chest. So far, Akechi had rejected every- and anyone asking him. He heard the kids talk around him, unaware of his presence as he melted into the shadows quietly the way he always did.
“It’s like he’s waiting for someone specific.”
“Well, it better be me.”
“I bet he’s just sulking because that Yoshizawa girl is going with someone else.”
“I heard he’s aromantic.”
“You don’t know that!”
“That’s just something Aiko spread around because she got rejected.”
“You should give it a try, Akira.”
Akira blinked. Alright, that last one had been…
Morgana’s head peaked out of the bag and knowing, blue eyes found his as Akira looked down at him, smiling weakly.
“You think so, huh?”
“Yeah, I mean come on! You totally made out that one time. He’s probably just waiting for you to finally get it together and ask him!”
Maybe. Though Akira truly doubted it. Goro Akechi wasn’t the type to wait for anyone.
But neither was Akira and honestly, he was getting tired of doing nothing and watching the tiny chance he had had with Akechi slip further and further away, like sand through his fingers, after he had almost, finally, grasped him.
And so, he made a plan.
The next day for lunch, he took his tray and went straight to the table Akechi and Sumire usually had for themselves. He had his eyes on Akechi, who reciprocated his gaze with raised eyebrows.
He stood, his lunch tray clutched tightly to his chest, trying to remember the words he had prepared for this occasion, his knuckles growing white from the force he was clinging to the tray in his hands with.
“Akira-senpai, are you alright?” Sumire asked worriedly, like the sweetheart she was.
He opened his mouth, eyes still locked with Akechi’s and found that no words came out.
Closed his mouth again, turned to Sumire and forced a smile on his face that felt as if it might fall out of his face at any second.
“I brought you lunch,” he said, hoarsely, and shoved his tray towards Sumire, who looked down at it with a startled expression.
“Uhm…”
“I know you always need more food than they give you here,” he quickly brought out, face red as he carefully avoided Akechi’s knowing eyes and stormed off.
He went to his next class hungry and ashamed.
Akira wouldn’t be the leader of the notorious (and disbanded) Phantom Thieves, if he were to give up after only one backfire, though. So, the very next day, he yet again stepped to their table for lunch, packed with a tray and a snoring, useless cat in his bag.
“Oh, hello!” Sumire greeted him friendly.
Akechi stared at him with eyes sparkling in silent amusement and a challenge hidden somewhere underneath.
Akira saw his challenge. Rose to the occasion….
And swiftly let his tray slide over the table towards Sumire before running off, managing to press out a quick “for you”.
He was going to have to start packing himself some sandwiches.
The next day, Morgana, who had been greatly amused by the… instances, insisted on watching from inside the bag and had, as it turned out, eaten all his sandwiches during classes.
Sulking, Akira sat on his spot behind the building, underneath a tree as he stared into the distance, trying not to think about the third humiliation in a row he’d endured in front of Akechi.
It shouldn’t be this difficult. He’d persistently asked him out on dates that first time and it had worked. But it felt different. Everything felt different since that cliff had opened up between them, swallowing all closeness he had once felt, all the connection he knew they had had and replacing it with the startling distance of two people who were slowly growing into becoming strangers.
And he really didn’t want Akechi to become a stranger. Not after everything they’d gone through. Not ever.
Suddenly feeling very calm, determination steering his steps, he returned back into the cafeteria, spotting Sumire and Goro still sitting at their table, chatting pleasantly while Sumire was scraping together the last few bites of her quiche.
He ignored his growling stomach and stepped closer.
“Oh?” Akechi greeted him with a sharp smirk and a glitter in his eyes. “Bringing the dessert?”
But Akira’s determination did not dwindle this time, as he let himself down onto the chair opposite Goro and looked at him seriously.
“Go to the ball with me,” he said. “Please.”
Akechi raised a single eyebrow.
“Look who got his guts back.”
Sumire was watching them with wide eyes, but Akira didn’t care. All he cared about was sitting in front of him, currently letting his gaze wander up and down the length of his body exactly once.
“Fine,” he finally said. “Pick me up at 7.”
“Fine?” Akira repeated, numb.
“Fine,” Akechi confirmed with a light roll of his eyes. “And wear a suit.”
Fine.
The word echoed in Akira’s head, bouncing off the walls unhindered until it finally sickered through to him. He’d said yes. Goro Akechi had rejected what had to amount to almost the entire university but agreed to go with him .
Oh God, he didn’t own a suit. He should definitely go get himself a suit.
“Yeah, of course,” he spluttered quickly. “No problem.”
Akechi stared at him for a long moment, then sighed heavily.
“Sumire. Help him get a suit that won’t embarrass me, will you?”
Sumire had rested her chin on her hands, watching them with a wide smile.
“Oh please. Like you could ever be embarrassed by Akira-senpai.”
“Oh, shush,” Akechi replied but his tone was devoid of any harshness and Akira noticed with a twinge of self-satisfaction, that his cheeks had taken the shade of a very subtle pink.
And slowly, steadily, the cliff between them turned into an even playfield instead.
“You really like him, hm?”
Akira’s hands were trembling as he browsed through the cheaper selection of suit jackets aimlessly, not really seeing any of them.
There were things they needed to talk about. Things quietly eating away at him, currently calm and harmless, but he knew how they would grow once they’d eaten all there was to eat.
“Didn’t you know that already?” he asked Sumire quietly, forcing himself to look up and meet her eyes.
Sumire blinked, confused.
“I… I mean I suppose i’ve seen you scramble to ask him out and-”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Akira said, allowing himself a minute to look down, collect himself before he looked back up to her, his face open, a gleam of desperation in his eyes that had been all too easy to conjure. “What I mean is that I was mourning him, Sumire. For years. I thought he was dead. And you… you knew better, you… never told me.”
“He asked me not to,” she said with such speed, he realised she must've immediately known what he meant. “He asked me to and I just… I didn’t want to disrespect his wishes when he was so…” She waved her hands around, trying to find words for all the things Goro Akechi was. “He was just piecing himself together again. He was barely letting me in and I wanted to help him. I know you needed help too, but you had all the Phantom Thieves helping you through it and he had no one but me, wouldn’t let anyone in, barely even his therapist.”
Akira, to his absolute horror, felt tears in his eyes and blinked heavily, trying to will them away.
“I’m sorry. I truly am. But I had to rely on the others to get you through this while I did what was best for Goro. You understand, don’t you? Akira-senpai?”
Akira swallowed hard and finally turned back to the suits, staring right through them, his back to Sumire.
“I could’ve been there for him,” he said, quietly, so quiet, he wasn’t sure Sumire could even hear him. “I should’ve been the one to…-”
She did.
Tentatively, she laid a hand on his shoulder, as if she knew that what she was about to say would land a killing blow and it did.
“He didn’t want you to be, Akira.”
She’d picked a suit for him afterwards that was somewhat in his budget and Akira had blindly tried it on and bought it, not even bothering to look, his thoughts whirling and his chest aching.
Once upon a time, he had been the only person understanding Goro Akechi’s true self. Once upon a time, he had stood in front of a lost-looking Sumire and answered her question if this was how he normally was with the simplest, fondest of replies, because he’d known and she had known that he knew and Akechi had known that he knew and it had been fine. It had been right.
Yesterday, she’d held up a suit and said, “He’d like this one, don’t you think?” and he hadn’t known.
This was just something he had to work through, now. That there was someone who knew Goro Akechi better than he did. That there was someone who’d been there for him in the aftermath while Akira was busy mourning a version of him that didn’t exist anymore.
Once upon a time, he had been the only real thing in Goro Akechi’s life and he shouldn’t have liked that fact, but oh, he had.
Sumire was an angel. With the logical, rational part of his brain, Akira knew this as he turned in front of the mirror, staring at the cut of his black suit, the red highlights and gloves and the way it was oddly reminiscent of Joker’s metaverse outfit. He hadn’t looked at himself like this in quite a while, if he was being honest, had missed the security and power coursing through him whenever he felt the swish of his coat, but this was… well, it felt right. As right as he could feel trapped back in real life.
“ He’d like this one, don’t you think? ” he heard Sumire’s voice in his mind again, echoing, reminding him of the gentle tease in her tone.
Akira thought back to the way Akechi had always looked at Joker, like he wanted to both, kiss and kill him, and for the first time since Sumire had taken him shopping, felt that delicate flutter of excitement again.
“You’re late.”
Akira frowned.
“No, I’m not!”
Akechi opened the door far enough for him to come in and stepped back in himself, pointing at a clock hanging over his neatly made bed, showing that it was... half a minute past seven.
“Those thirty seconds just ran down while you claimed I was late,” Akira told him flatly. “Are you ready?”
“Not yet, give me a minute, I’m trying to find my shoes,” Akechi grumbled and bent down to check the space under his bed.
Akira tried - unsuccessfully - not to stare at his perfect ass and the way the trousers of his suit accentuated it.
"So you complain that I’m late but didn’t use the absolute flood of extra time to find your shoes any sooner?”
Akechi - regrettably - straightened again with a pair of black shoes dangling from his fingers as he stepped into his space, grinning. “Done drooling, Joker?”
It was the old codename mixed with the suit, mixed with the familiarity of the banter that finally made him forget about being tongue-tied and let him reply with an easy grin, feeling more like himself, feeling more like the self he had been around Goro Akechi.
“No, not quite. Want to bend down again?”
Akechi’s grin was predatory, nothing of the fake sweetness he used on his enemies (had used on him), just open sparkle and unhidden, dark joy.
“Maybe later. Let’s go be very bored at a mediocre dance first, shall we?”
To Akira’s absolute delight, he offered him his arm and grinning widely, he linked it with his own, feeling his heart be lighter than it had been in weeks.
“No time spent with you could possibly be mediocre.”
“Oh no, of course not, it was you I was concerned about,” Akechi replied with a smirk and no real bite in his voice.
They walked out of the dorms and into the evening air, the gentle chill of it wrapping around Akira’s giddy, heated mind and cooling it down enough to think.
“Is this the right time to bring up the fact that I can’t dance?”
The look Akechi gave him was full of exasperation. It was the look he’d given him whenever he made a reckless decision as their leader, the look he’d given him whenever he had dragged him to Jazz Jin instead of a palace, the look he’d given him so often whenever he’d aimed for triple 20 and hit the single instead of simply aiming for the easier-to-hit bull’s eye like Akechi did, always trying to outdo him, always trying to keep him on his toes, because he knew he’d lose the thrill, lose his attention if he didn’t.
It was one of Goro Akechi’s fondest looks.
“It’s fine,” he finally sighed after a short silence. “You can simply follow my lead.”
Akira’s grin widened, shined, as he gently squeezed the arm in his. Grass crunched underneath their steps. Everything felt so right.
“Any day.”
What was once the gym had been effectively turned into a crowded, comfortable ballroom, with people chatting in every corner, drinking and dancing and the soft sounds of almost bearable pop music surrounding them.
“Could be worse, I guess,” Akechi muttered under his breath as they stood inside for a moment, looking around.
“I can’t help but admire your positive attitude,” Akira snickered.
Akechi gave him a mild side glare, then unwrapped his arm from Akira’s, only to connect their gloved hands.
“If you’re going to get cocky, let’s dance, shall we?”
“Ohhh, I see how it is,” Akira grinned. “We’re five minutes in and you already want to humiliate me.”
“Something tells me you’re into it.”
Akechi pulled him into the middle of the hall that had somehow emerged as the dance floor, snaking his way through all the other dancing couples. He could hear whispers trail after them like an alive thing, following them through rustling grasses.
People stopped what they were doing to openly stare at the delinquent and the charming top-of-his-class philosophy tutor who had rejected absolutely anyone more upstanding.
He suddenly felt drunk on it. On Akechi’s eyes on him, amused, fond, familiar, even as they seemed to pierce straight into his soul and everyone else’s eyes on them, confirming that this was real to his dazzled brain.
It was as if something had turned the world right again, had turned an upside-down picture right again.
“Quite the assumption,” Akira replied a second too late, eyes fixed on Akechi who was watching him with a light smirk.
He raised the hand that was still holding Akira’s and laid the other on his hip.
Okay, he could do this. All he had to do was follow Akechi’s steps, right? He’d seen this on TV plenty of times, it couldn’t be that hard. It’d be a bit like a battle - watching what your teammate did and react accordingly, in perfect alignment. They had been good at that.
“Akira?”
“Huh?” He was intently staring at Akechi’s feet, waiting for them to move so he could mirror them. His voice was smooth and so close. When had Akechi gotten so close? The hair on the back of his neck tingled, his fingers were comfortably wrapped around Akechi’s and his body was gently brushing his… It was nice, actually. He wondered if Akechi could feel his heart beating against his own chest.
Then again, he could feel Akechi’s heartbeat, too. A heartbeat letting him know that he was alive and well and safely by his side.
Holding him.
“I have no clue how to dance.”
Akira’s eyes flinched upwards.
“Wait,” he spluttered. “What?”
Akechi was looking at him calmly.
“I’ve never danced in my life.”
“But you said-”
“Well, I did read books about it. But this feels… different.”
“You can’t dance,” Akira repeated numbly.
“I can’t dance,” Akechi replied with a nod.
Huh.
He considered stepping to the side, leaving the dance floor to people who actually knew what they were doing, but the thought of letting go of Akechi now seemed to constrict his throat, so he squeezed his fingers once, reassuringly, and let a grin spread on his face.
"Okay, well, we’ll just… listen to the music and improvise, right?”
“Right,” Akechi replied, sounding doubtful, then added, “That’s a horrible idea.”
“Yeah, we’ll absolutely embarrass ourselves. Let’s go.”
Akira started moving. So much for him just following his lead - he was leading Akechi with clumsy steps over the dance floor. None of them felt as smooth and simple as he’d seen in the movies and they kept on bumping their feet together, almost stumbling over one another, but it was alright. It was better than alright, it was nice, it was them.
He could feel his skin tingle as old, well-kept senses reminded him that people were watching them with hawk eyes, but he didn’t care. Instead, when the song switched to something slower, calmer, he stepped closer to Akechi, wrapped both arms around his waist and pulled him towards himself. Together, they just calmly moved to the music, standing on the spot, no more complicated attempts at steps, just holding each other.
He was so close, he could feel Akechi’s breath against the side of his cheek, had leant his face against his, fighting the urge to close his eyes. This was nice but looking at Akechi was even nicer, reminded him that this was real, this was happening, he was with the only boy he’d thought about for so many, cold years.
And then Akechi abruptly let go of him, leaving Akira stumbling as he had, indeed, closed his eyes and now tore them open with a surge of confusion and hurt.
Akechi was looking at a spot over his shoulder with a dark expression on his face.
“What… what’s wrong?”
But as soon as Akira turned around, he could see what was wrong. Sumire was sitting on a chair near the bar, head in her hands and shoulders shaking and all around her, people were doing nothing but staring and whispering, drinks in their hands and laughter ready on their lips.
Akechi didn’t hesitate for another second. Without another glance towards Akira, he headed to Sumire to pull up a chair and flop down next to her, a hand gently on her shoulder as he started to calmly speak to her still hidden face.
Akira hurried to join them, trying to focus on Sumire instead of the boiling disappointment in the pit of his stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
“That moron stood her up,” Akechi growled, voice low to make sure no one around them could hear. “I’m going to tear his useless head off his useless neck!”
He sounded like he was five seconds away from conjuring Loki into the middle of the gym.
“Let’s go outside. She can get some air.”
He jerked his head in the direction of all the people around them staring and Akechi nodded with a tight jaw.
They helped Sumire up, positioned themselves left and right from her and led her outside. Her face was pink and tear-stained but she kept her lips pressed together and her head held high as she walked by their side.
As soon as they’d found a secluded spot to sit down, Akechi started pacing, walking up and down the bench with his hands clenched to fists. “He’s so dead, he’s a dead man. I will murder him. He’s a dead man!”
Sumire managed a shaky smile.
“He always gets like this when he’s angry.”
“Yeah I… I know,” Akira muttered, trying to swallow down the bile in his throat.
Akechi stopped for a second, almost freezing, as his eyes went from Akira to Sumire, then he turned towards her, sighing.
“Are you alright?”
“Hardly,” she replied easily. “But it’s fine. You two should go enjoy your evening.”
“Absolutely not,” they replied in unison and Akira could see Akechi’s lips twitch.
“Well, I think you should,” Sumire said in an attempt to sound firm. “I really don’t feel like going back in there anyway. I’ll just curl up with a good book in my room.”
They exchanged a short look.
“Let’s go out,” Akira finally suggested. “We’re already all dressed up, we might as well make the best out of it. Go somewhere fancy.”
“You can’t afford fancy, you spent all your budget on a suit,” Sumire replied with a weak smile - one last attempt to deflect.
“It’s on me.” Akechi’s voice was toneless, flat and Akira recognised it as a measure to keep his anger in. “Let’s go. If we don’t get out of here I’ll be arrested for murder by tomorrow.”
The rest of the evening, they spent cheering up Sumire. She was walking in their middle with her teary eyes, slightly red nose and beautiful dress, laughing and giggling as Akira pulled out every single funny story he could possibly come up with - Akechi had always been a good banter partner. He bounced off his anecdotes with dry sarcasm and little snide comments, making both of them laugh.
They ended up getting dinner somewhere Akira would normally never step foot in, pushing their chairs together and getting drunk on champagne to all the other stuck-up guest’s disdain and soon Sumire’s eyes dried and her laughter sounded real again.
“Feeling any better?” Akira asked over dessert, nudging her side with his elbow gently and she turned to grin at him.
“Worlds better. How could I possibly need more than friends like you two?” Her smile died on her face, making space for regrets. “Though I really am sorry to have ruined your date.”
“You’ve done nothing of the sort,” Akechi, who was currently angrily staring down Akira’s pancakes, replied immediately. “You’re our friend, you couldn’t possibly ruin anything.”
Huh, Akira thought with a warm feeling in his stomach. So it was “our” now.
It was late when they got up to walk back, the night dark and peaceful around them.
“Oh, wait,” Sumire called out after a few steps. “I forgot my purse!”
She hastily ran back in, leaving Akira and Akechi awkwardly alone in the dark parking lot, all previously discovered conversation skills suddenly forgotten.
“So,” Akira said.
“So,” Akechi said at the exact same moment.
They both broke off, staring at each other.
Akira nodded towards him, signaling for him to start.
Akechi looked at him with an unreadable expression for a moment, then said,
“Did you finally get over your jealousy regarding Sumire then?”
Okay , Akira thought grimly as he stared at the ground. This would be a great moment to split open and swallow me whole.
Just saying.
“Uhm, I- I mean. It wasn’t. I wasn’t jealous,” he brought out, sounding like the liar he was, “I just thought… Well, I just thought you were together and that I had… had come between, you know?”
Akechi raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t you think if that was the case, I would’ve simply told you so?”
“I- I… guess?”
“You’re a moron, do you know that?”
“I’m a moron?” Akira called out, voice high. “You’re the one who apparently knew what was going on and didn’t say anything! What, you just left me thinking you’re with Sumire for months?”
“Your issues weren’t mine to solve,” Akechi replied with a shrug. “We kissed. I don’t know how much clearer I could’ve been. Besides, I barely knew who you were anymore. You turned into a stuttering mess. I was just waiting for you to turn back into the Joker I know.”
“I’m not Joker,” he shot back, surprised by the sharpness in his own tone. “I’m Akira Kurusu. If you’re waiting for some fearless metaverse version of a rebel to manifest back in the real world, you’ll wait for a long while. This is who I am here. Stuttering mess and all.”
Akechi rolled his eyes.
“Don’t you think I know who you are? Akira or Joker, I don’t care. What I care about is you acting like just another moronic fan drooling over my photographs like the rest of them. You know me. You know me better than anyone else - You should be above this behaviour.”
“Do I?” Akira’s voice had lowered, was dangerously quiet now but before Akechi could reply, Sumire had joined them with a wide smile on her face, clutching her purse.
“Sorry!” she said, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long!”
“It’s quite alright,” Akechi said so smoothly, there was no way to tell they’d just talked about anything more serious than the weather. He offered her his arm and led her through the parking lot. “Shall we?”
The ball was already over when they returned, late in the night. They delivered Sumire to the girl’s dorm, waved her goodnight, both glad to see her smile as she closed the door behind her, then walked side by side in amicable silence for a moment.
Akira had had a great time, he really had. He’d missed Sumire more than he cared to admit. He’d laughed more today than he had since he’d come here. And he didn’t regret spending his evening cheering up a sad friend for one second.
But he had really wished for more time with Akechi, had really wished he could talk things through with him properly. His mind was still on the parking lot, trying to go back to topic, trying to make Akechi understand why he’d acted like he acted.
But instead of finding the words to say, they found his room door and Akechi stood beside it, waiting for him to go in, hands in his pockets, hair beautifully dishevelled from the wind and Akira hated, absolutely despised that he had to leave him now.
This was not how he had imagined this day to end.
“So uhm,” he said, despite knowing better. “Want to… come in?”
Akechi said nothing for a moment, then the tiniest of smiles appeared on his face.
“No.”
“Right,” Akira replied, hurt despite having known that would be his answer. “Alright then. I’ll just…”
He had his hand already on the doorknob when Akechi’s calm voice stopped him for a moment.
“If you think this qualified as a proper date, you have another thing coming. We barely had a minute for ourselves.”
Akira turned around slowly.
“I- that’s not my fault,” he spluttered.
Akechi gave him a little shrug.
“Just saying. You’re gonna have to do better than that to get me into bed.”
“I wasn’t - I just meant - to talk -” Akira stammered, only stopping his attempt to explain himself when Akechi gave him a little wink and a smirk, before turning around.
“Good night, Akira Kurusu.”
“Good night, Crow,” Akira whispered behind him, earning himself another dazzling smile as Akechi turned while walking, with an oddly fond expression on his face.
Maybe he really did still know him, Akira figured numbly. Because right now, he couldn’t help but think he’d let the only person walk away, who understood how much he missed being Joker.
“So uhm…” Morgana greeted him when he finally entered his room. “Next time you invite him over for uhhh…. things , you remember that I live here too, yeah?”