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Akira’s skin felt white-hot, his blood practically boiling.
Kill it.
Turning to his side, he gripped his weapon, eyes locked onto his target. It tried to speak to him, but he paid it no mind, marching in its direction. There were other voices, loud and grating; he pushed something out of his way, hearing a loud thump.
Kill it. Now.
Smiling, he lunged forward, slashing erratically, eyes widening in glee when he saw blood. His target stumbled to the ground, still trying to talk to him, not realising it was hopeless-this was his mission, this thing needed to die.
“Aki..ra…please stop,” it pleaded weakly, soft brown eyes meeting his own. A pang of fondness went down his spine, and he paused, the blade still embedded in its stomach. That…felt strange.
“Finally!” someone else shrieked, and a fist connected with his cheek, hard enough to knock him onto the floor of Mementos, stars in his vision. Blinking, he frowned at Makoto, who was glaring daggers at him. Tears glistened in her eyes. “You-you got brainwashed.”
His heart dropped. “I-who did I attack? Makoto?” he cried out, a hand covering his mouth. “Who did I attack?” He practically screamed at her, bile rising in his throat.
She didn’t answer, letting out a sob and moving to the side instead, allowing him to see the view. Ryuji lay on the ground, Ann and Morgana desperately summoning their personas over and over again, the former weeping as she did so, begging him not to leave her. Retching, he turned away, vomit splattering on the ground. “I didn’t mean to…I-I didn’t…” Staggering to his feet, he wobbled closer to Ryuji, his stomach turning when he saw his boyfriend.
Blood was everywhere. It seemed to stream endlessly from his wounds, like a disgustingly morbid river. The scene was so awful he couldn’t take his eyes away from it, every detail engraining itself into his memories-Ryuji’s worryingly pale face, Ann’s broken cries, the blood, oh god, the blood, the sounds of personas being summoned repeatedly; he couldn’t move.
Yusuke, who was somehow standing next to Akira without him realising, grabbed his shoulder, grip too tight. “You have a persona that can heal, right? Do something!”
Lurching forward, he summoned High Pixie, begging her to heal as best as she could. Despite not being anything more than an extension of his soul, she seemed to understand, her strength making his hands finally stop trembling. Makoto joined the effort, holding onto Ryuji’s arm.
He didn’t know how long they were there, but it felt entirely too long every second an eternity.
But the colour began to return to Ryuji’s face, the wounds starting to close up and become scars, which then eventually faded completely, every trace of Akira’s betrayal disappearing off his body. Only when Ryuji started taking properly deep breaths did they stop, shoulders slumping and out of breath.
“We need to go. The Reaper might come,” Morgana stated, turning into the Monabus. Akira merely nodded, keeping a tight hold on Ryuji’s hand as they manoeuvred him into a seat, his eyes starting to flutter open. “W-what’s going on?” Settling into his seat, he turned and upon seeing Akira, immediately flinched, his hand twitching in Akira’s hold. “Sorry-uh-I know it was an accident, just-”
Akira brought Ryuji’s hand towards his lips, just ghosting across them, both hands wrapped around Ryuji’s, almost as if he was praying. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered weakly, screwing his eyes shut. His voice turned wobbly. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I thought you were dead.”
The other Thieves turned away in respect.
To Akira’s surprise, he was not pushed away, but Ryuji wrapped his arms around his neck tentatively, too anxious to squeeze any tighter. “I love you,” he whispered back. “I know you didn’t mean it, you’d never hurt me like that.”
Carefully, like Ryuji was made of glass, Akira hugged him back, muffling a sob in his neck. “I’m sorry.” He felt like a parrot, but that was all he could say. Nothing could make up for what he had done.
“You were brainwashed,” was Ryuji’s simple answer, and Akira could’ve ripped out his own hair out of frustration. This boy was too forgiving of him, he deserved jail time for what he had done-he wouldn’t’ve been surprised if Ryuji broke up with him there and then and never spoke to him again. He didn’t deserve this.
Pulling away to see Ryuji’s face, he choked on a sob. “Be angry at me.”
“Nah, not my style,” Ryuji answered back, a ghost of a grin on his face. “I forgive you.”
Overcome with a feeling he couldn’t quite name, he leant forward slowly, letting Ryuji pull away if he needed, kissing him tenderly, the way that Ryuji deserved to be treated. Smiling into the kiss, Ryuji reciprocated, wiping away a tear from Akira’s face. They pulled away, but remained close enough for their foreheads to touch, their eyes locked onto each other. “I love you,” Akira breathed out, desperately wanting Ryuji to be even closer, so he could feel even more of Ryuji’s warmth and prove he was there, that he was alive. “I’ll do anything for you.”
Ryuji grinned, properly, the sparkle returning to his eyes. “I already said, I forgive you. And I love you too.”
“Is this romantic moment over? Cause we’re nearly back now.” Ann called out, trying to make it humorous, but her tone sounded off, her eyebrows pulled into a small frown. She blinked in surprise when Ryuji smiled softly at her.
“Over for now, I guess,” Akira answered calmly, unable to tear his eyes away from his boyfriend. He was almost scared that Ryuji would disappear if he looked away for too long. Ryuji, ever so clueless, gave him a soft peck on the cheek, mistaking his long gaze for some form of embarrassment.
He really did deserve the world.