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Notes from February 2nd

Summary:

This was for him, this was what he wanted. And the perfect version of Akechi Maruki created for Akira was nothing but a soulless copy; an insult. But in the end, he missed Akechi, of course he did. Akira wanted to feel him in his arms again, to feel the rise and fall of his chest... But the only way Akira could help himself out of those dreary nights with dreary thoughts was to remember exactly what he’d lose:

"As much as I want to feel you in my arms again, the coffee on your lips would never taste as sweet."

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

February 2nd was the day Goro Akechi sealed his own tragic fate.

Their final target, Takuto Maruki, was unlike anyone they’ve faced before. He thought he was helping them– helping everyone, but in the end he was just running from his own problems in a twisted way. It was horrible. Being the one to tell your closest friends they can’t enjoy this heavenly reality was heartbreaking, and even worse when they genuinely thought it to be real. Though once you cut the puppet strings he’s woven into everyone’s skin, it was just like any other wild Phantom Thieves adventure. One with the fate of the world resting in their hands.

The day they succeeded felt just as familiar. The only difference should’ve been Akechi walking through the doors of Leblanc with everyone else to celebrate their victory… But the truth didn’t feel real enough until Akira brewed coffee for a night between two people, just for the bell above Leblanc’s door to remain silent. The coffee that night tasted watered down and salty, and every cup since then was just bitter sludge.

Funny… He thought it wouldn’t hurt as much as last time…

To say that Akira missed Akechi would be an egregious understatement.

The time Akira had to spend with him during the formation of Maruki’s reality was more than meaningful. Sure, they carried the weight of everyone’s lives on their backs, such stakes are hard to ignore. But it’s hopeless to put into words how much he’s longed to see Akechi again since the day he died by that vile tyrant’s will.

But to be brought back by a benevolent tyrant’s will is… Maruki was wrong for bringing Akechi back the way he did. Facing that man and his outlandish idea of salvation was a nightmare. But every extra second Akira got to spend with Akechi, no matter what they had to go against, did nothing but make Akira’s heart sing. His presence– him being alive again made it all feel like a dream.

On february 2nd, Maruki gave his ultimatum. He was determined to maintain his false, perfect reality. And Akechi was determined to end it.

Nothing felt the way it should’ve since that day. Maybe it’s because all the smoke and mirrors were gone, but the sun never shined as bright, and the nights grew lonelier than before… Some nights were haunted by that day, those were the worst ones. Because even after everything they’ve fought for, and knowing how important this fate was to Akechi, those nights always brought out a side of Akira that wondered the same tired question he didn’t want to answer:

What would’ve happened if he accepted the deal– if Akechi stayed? What life could they have shared? What more could they have done? Is it really so wrong that part of him longed for Maruki’s reality?

Would they be playing darts? 701 since Akechi wouldn’t do anything less than a challenge. Could they go back to the jazz club and listen to the same singer perform the same solemn song over the same sugary cocktail, yet have every night feel as special as the first? Or would they stay at Leblanc, and Akira could run his fingers through Akechi’s hair and taste the coffee on his lips next to their forgotten game of chess.

None of it would be real… But it would be him. As long as it’s him, anything would be enough, wouldn’t it?

Those nights were unbearable. It would be late, when Akira thought he was tired enough to fall asleep right away. He’d be wrong, and unable to disguise the taste of salty tears with bitter coffee, or bear to look at the glove Akechi left him.

Ha… Akechi would chide him if he saw how pathetic Akira looked. This was for him, this was what he wanted. And the perfect version of Akechi Maruki created for him was nothing but a soulless copy, an insult. In the end, it didn’t matter that he missed Akechi, that he wanted him back in his arms. Because the only way Akira could help himself out of those dreary nights was to remember what he’d lose:

As much as I want to feel you in my arms again, the coffee on your lips would never taste as sweet.

Gone as he may be, Akechi will never be forgotten. To forget him, and the reality he died for, would feel the same as killing him over again…

And above all, he’d be damned to give up on Akechi. If this is the reality he chose, then so be it. He’d never backs down from a challenge, or let this sorry hand he’s been dealt could bring his end, not again. He’s better than that. He’ll rise above it, just like he did on February 2nd.

So he’ll wait.

With a chess board set up and ready to be played and then forgotten, a cup of coffee with a spoon of sugar and even more cream, and holding onto his glove, Akira will wait until the bell above Leblanc’s door rings for him.

He will wait for the day Goro Akechi takes his fate into his own hands once again.

Notes:

happy 2/2 everybody yaaaay, yeesh I'm this one was a little sad buuuut yeaaaaa. N e ways I hope you enjoyed this, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to write a small something for this very,, veryyy special day. If you liked it, then come yell at me on Twitter or Tumblr. Thank you so much for reading my fic!!!!