Archive of Our Own

Transferring to Shujin was, for the most part, nothing Akira was really happy about. In teenager terms, it sucked. Everyone was constantly torn between thinking he was either a mafia member who’d made his living robbing helpless grandmas of their purses, or the first delinquent in all of Japan to possess enough intelligence to answer the most basic questions in class. What is the powerhouse of the cell? The mitochondria, duh.

In any case. Shujin was hard on him and his new delinquent life that involved many more hardships than just schoolwork. Like trying to not get kicked out by the café owner graciously letting him sleep on empty milk crates in his attic. Or daring to approach his few new tentative friends at their cafeteria lunch table.

Luckily enough they haven’t figured out yet just how much of a nerd Akira is if he’s not a violent delinquent and let him sit with them without much fanfare. Then again—Ann at least seems much more down-to-earth than her appearance and popularity would suggest.

It’s during one of their lunch breaks together that Akira finds the first reason why Shujin doesn’t suck, and it wears a black turtleneck school uniform, leather gloves and a ponytail that should not look this gorgeous on anyone.

“Who’s he?”

Akira nods to the brunette boy entering the cafeteria late, looking at Ann expectantly. She tries glancing to the side inconspicuously, looking as derpy as Akira is starting to believe she is underneath that pretty and cool appearance, until she spots the guy.

And boy, Akira’s never seen someone’s eyebrows raise that high up to their hairline.

Ann shoots into his space to whisper to him, probably drawing more attention to herself than less with the act. “That’s Goro Akechi,” she exclaims in a whisper. “The student council vice president. He’s totally gorgeous, obviously. Buuut apparently nobody here is good enough for him.” She chuckles bitterly, waves it off. “Like I care, you know?”

Akira doesn’t answer. He’s busy following the boy with his eyes as he walks towards a table with a few people Akira recognises as the student council president, her girlfriend and others.

“So yeah,” he hears Ann say, too caught up in his staring to give her much attention. “Seriously, don’t waste your time.”

It’s at that moment that Akechi suddenly turns his head and looks towards him. Their eyes lock; Akechi’s gleam at his in a deep, dark red almost black even from across the cafeteria and Akira instantly feels sparks between them that settle in his core and set him alight.

It’s gone as quickly as it happened as Akechi turns back towards his company and their conversation. Akira blinks awake from his trance. Forces his racing heart to calm down.

He turns back to Ann and casually waves it off. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You know, like a liar.

At least it takes Ann a few days more to catch on to his little infatuation that has him yearningly stare after Akechi in the hallways, has him try to listen in on every conversation that is about him. He even briefly considers trying to get into the student council, then remembers he’s branded as the school’s delinquent and stands no chance.

It’s not until he signs up for a few random after-school clubs to improve his social standing as well as his grades that he meets Akechi again, this time in much-too-close quarters for someone who’s used to watching people from the shadows.

Akira freezes in front of the fan as he walks into the biology club, the light wind from it gently rustling his hair as his eyes lock onto Akechi’s once more. The other looks much more caught off-guard than during the first time they had eye contact, covering his nose and mouth with his hand and looking away, looking almost... sick? Akira is entranced by it. Whether he’s just shy or the sight of Akira is enough to make him want to throw up, he doesn’t care. A strong reaction is a strong reaction. He’s not picky.

“Hi,” he mumbles quietly as he slides into the seat next to his, coincidentally the only free one because for once, fate is kind to Akira Kurusu. Before he can say anything more, though, the instructor starts handing out today’s samples to work on, and just his luck—

Dissecting a heart. Akira isn’t squeamish, but he sure as hell is romantic. Symbolism is on his side today.

Akira is barely listening to the instructor as they work on the task. He simply can’t stop staring at Akechi’s sharp face and his concentrated dark eyes as he alternates between looking down at where he’s dissecting the organ and listening to the instructor. For a moment, Akira imagines that to be his own heart, imagines Akechi’s long, elegant fingers carving it open with deadly precision, and oh—all his blood rushes South at that thought.

As if he’s able to sense it, Akechi’s eyes suddenly snap to his, alert and intense like a predator’s. He smiles. It’s the first time Akira is so close to him.

“Is something the matter?”

He’s talking to him. He’s talking to him. Akira is beaming.

“Not at all, Akechi-senpai. I mean— just watching how you do it, yeah.” Fuck. He might as well put his foot in his mouth.

Still he’s met with a bright smile that doesn’t reach Akechi’s eyes. “Then I suggest you listen to the instructions rather than make eyes at someone else’s work. Who knows, my blade might slip a little from all the attention...” He gives a pointed glance down at Akira’s left hand that’s resting on the table between them and just close enough to where his knife is plunged into the organ before him. Akira feels himself ascend to heaven.

“That would be alright,” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Something bewildered crosses Akechi’s features, more real and raw and mean than any emotion he’s seen on the boy before. It’s gone just the next moment, though, and Akira finds his pining rudely interrupted by the club leader dropping by his table to assist him since he hasn’t made a single bit of progress so far.

He feels Akechi’s eyes on him the entire rest of the hour. Knowing he’s being watched like that... It's much too thrilling for him to risk ruining the moment by turning to him again.

Even when the club meeting is over, Akira still feels the back of his neck prickle from Akechi’s gaze. He spends the entire day wondering about how sharp Akechi’s smile could really look, how much bite he held back from his words before addressing Akira with them. He thinks back to how he carried the knife with such precision and skill, how he cut open the organ before him without a second thought... and honestly? He wouldn’t mind dying like that.

Next week sees him sitting next to Akechi once again. Akira is utterly prepared to charm him off his seat this time, has memorised approximately twenty pickup lines about dissections and hearts alone just for this moment, yet Akechi is faster than him.

As soon as he sinks into his seat, Akechi leans into his space, a bright smile on his face. “Hello,” he greets him almost shyly, saying the word like it’s magic that makes Akira freeze in place with his heart beating in his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last week. I’m Goro Akechi.” He hesitates for a moment, looking deeply into his eyes. His voice drops to a softer, more intimate version of itself. “You’re Akira-kun.”

His first name. Akira might as well ascend and go to heaven. He can’t even try and question why after the initial hostility, Akechi would suddenly be nice enough to make smalltalk with him and even remember his name. Or look it up, actually.

“Uhm, yes,” he starts to say, but that’s when today’s instructor starts talking, forcing them to turn their eyes to the blackboard instead.

Still they sneak in conversations. Akira is surprised if not even a little suspicious that Akechi would just talk to him like that, but he’s not gonna look a gifted horse in its mouth. Akechi asks him about the circumstances that brought him here, and honestly? It’s refreshing being asked for once instead of having people assume. Together they finish their assignment, even get a little competitive over it, and Akira can’t even bother trying to detach himself when he naturally walks out next to Akechi after the club ends.

“So you’re living with a family friend,” Akechi states the umpteenth question solely about his current living situation like the most dedicated stalker Akira could have. Akira’s swooning as they walk back to their lockers. “Couldn’t you have stayed with your parents?”

“Well, they were worried I’d not, uhm, learn my lesson back home,” Akira says, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. Honestly, saying it like that, he feels ashamed all over again for what has happened.

Akechi doesn’t seem put off. If anything, his expression is sympathising. “And now you’re unhappy here?”

Akira thinks of his routine now, realises it could be quite worse. Especially since he’s talking to Akechi. If Ann only knew... “No.” He shakes his head with a little smile.

Akechi matches it with ease, stops with Akira as they arrive in front of his locker and turns to him. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re very difficult for me to read.” He’s so much closer now. Akira has a hard time looking away from his eyes.

He’s just starting to think of how to reply to that loaded statement when he abruptly takes note of something.

“Hey, did you get contacts, Akechi-senpai?” he mumbles, tilting his head, not looking away from his amber eyes. At Akechi’s confused expression, he adds, “Your eyes were darker last time I saw you.”

He seems startled. Caught off-guard. Akira watches in confusion as he blinks a few times, stammers through an answer. “It’s the, it’s the... fluorescence.” Akechi shakes his head. “If you excuse me, I have to...”

He walks off before Akira can get another word in. Akira is left to gape at him as he walks off.

Is he... embarrassed about wearing contacts? He can’t explain it any other way. Maybe Akechi likes to cosplay or something and forgot to take them out? Yeah, that could be it. Honestly, the boy seemed a little like he was hiding a few secrets—a passion for cosplay would not surprise him in the least, or maybe Akira was just projecting his own likes in men here.

“Whoa, was that Akechi with you?”

He’s brought out of it by a clap on the shoulder and the voice of his new friend—not new anymore, really. Ryuji’s been to his house often enough to count as a proper friend by now.

“Yeah,” Akira mumbles. “Yeah. He seems nice. Honestly, it’s kinda weird, he seemed so mean just last week...”

“Dude, seriously?” Ryuji exclaims, stepping into his view and looking downright horrified. “Maaan, the guy’s with the student council. That gang is bad luck. Hell, they don’t even eat during lunch! I’d stay away if I were you.” Ryuji throws his sports bag back, pointing to himself with a grin. “You got me, after all! Say, I was actually gonna ask you...”

Akira has already tuned him out, though. He’s much too busy revelling in the eye contact he’s suddenly having with Akechi across the hallway. The boy is at his locker, looking every bit as distant and conflicted as he had when he left Akira standing there, and yet somehow, they can’t break eye contact. He doesn’t even dare blink. If his eyes dry out, then so be it.

Akira thinks it must be fate. And well, fate has been known to not care for secrets.

“—wanna go to prom together?”

Akira blinks out of it, turns back to Ryuji. “Sorry, what were you just saying?”

Ryuji looks like a deer caught in headlights. Honestly, Akira feels a little bad for not having listened properly, but who could blame him when Akechi was practically eating him up from across the hallway after having just left him standing over contacts?

Still, Ryuji deflates. “Nevermind. You, uh, gonna catch the game with us next weekend? At the beach. We’re making it a party. Public viewing, beach bar, karaoke and all.”

“Sure, count me in.”

Akechi doesn’t leave his mind even when he comes home that day. All their interactions repeat back and forth in his mind. If Akira had been curious about the guy before, he’s downright obsessed now—no way he can get Akechi out of his head and heart now after he’s spent a good ten minutes during class explaining mitosis to him, then tried to ask him for his exact living situation like a stalker trying to plan a hit on him, and then accompanied him to his locker only to deny something as basic as his own eye colour. Once again: Shujin might suck, but at least there’s Goro Akechi.

Goro Akechi, who’s giving him the most intense look Akira’s ever experienced in his life as he stands in the school parking lot and waits for Sojiro to pick him up, looking at Akechi who’s standing closer to the school gate a good thirty feet away from him in between his friends. Akira tries to look cool and leans on the hood of the car in front of him seductively, cocks his hip out a little like the girls in the movies do. It seems to work: Akechi casually leans back onto his own car, eye contact never breaking as he licks over his lips.

Akira almost doesn’t catch how Akechi’s eyes suddenly go wide, how there’s the screech of tires behind him rapidly coming closer.

He’s always known he’d die in some stupid way, be it from the stereotypical, cartoonish flowerpot to the head, from slipping and falling into a toilet bowl headfirst, or from being stabbed by his hot senpai during biology classes for ogling him a little too much.

As he turns around, he sees the van swerve and slither right towards him, and Akira thinks there’s gotta be a sexier way to go out for someone like him. But his legs are frozen solid, his heart having stopped beating already. He’ll die here without ever having kissed a boy, that much he’s sure of.

He closes his eyes and tries not to scream as the car rapidly slithers towards him. That’s when someone suddenly pulls him down roughly.

Ripping his eyes open, the first thing Akira sees is a hand pressed against the bent metal of the van. Long fingers. Light body hair. His head whips around and comes face to face with Akechi, who’s kneeling over him protectively, face so close to his Akira can feel his laboured breaths on his face. Apparently having stopped the van and... saved him.

Akira must have died and is seeing his final wish in life right now. No way did Akechi stop an entire van weighing several tons with just his hand.

“How?” he asks in a shaky voice.

Akechi’s eyes burn dark red at him. There’s so many raw emotions in them Akira can’t make out through the near-death experience and he rips himself away before Akira can commit any more of them to memory.

Giving him one last look, Akechi turns around, jumps over where the van has crashed into the parked car and walks off. And before Akira can even try to follow him, he’s suddenly surrounded by dozens of students and teachers alike, checking him for injuries, calling an ambulance, supporting him to get up. There’s Ann. She’s holding his face in worry, eyes wet, saying something about how scary that all was, but Akira can’t listen.

The moment keeps repeating in his head. The van sliding towards him, Akechi pulling him down despite how he was more than just a few feet away right before. His hand holding the van at bay with almost superhuman strength, as if it was a mere toy car.

Only in the hospital does he recover enough to get over his shock and try and puzzle together what it all could mean. Who Akechi really is.

He spots Akechi as he leaves the hospital, talking to student council president Niijima and her older sister, who Akira’s had brief contact with since she’s police and protocol had him interviewed about his almost-accident. Akira quickly hides behind the corner, breath catching in his throat as he overhears their conversation.

“What was I supposed to do? Let him die?” Akechi. He sounds like a mess.

“This isn’t just about you. It’s about all of us.” Niijima. The younger one.

Her sister sighs. “I think we should leave this in my office—”

All three pairs of eyes turn towards Akira. He’s been caught.

For a moment, he simply stares at them, hoping it will intimidate them enough to keep talking about their secrets that are clearly connected to Akechi having punched an entire car to keep him safe. Both Niijimas’ glares only get worse, though, so Akira does the opposite: pretend this was meant to happen and step into the scene properly, finger pointing at Akechi.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Akechi looks like he’d rather go back in time and crush Akira with a van instead, but the older Niijima is already grabbing the other by the hand, mumbling, “Makoto,” before pulling her along—of course not without throwing a last glare at Akira. He feels weirdly cursed.

At least Akechi is coming over to him. Akira has half a mind to pretend this was all a fever dream and ask him out on a date instead.

“What?” Akechi asks him when he arrives at his side, as if Akira’s the weird one here.

“How— How did you get over to me so fast?”

Akechi smiles at him as if they’re in class and Akira has just said something incredibly stupid. “I was standing right next to you, Akira-kun.”

“No?” Akira won’t take it. “You were next to your car. Across the lot. You were— you were draped over it, I remember, and you were giving me a look and licking your lips—” Fuck, he’s getting distracted. Ignoring Akechi’s bewildered face, Akira takes a deep breath and forces the image away, concentrating on what matters. “You weren’t there. In fact, you were far away.”

Akechi chuckles, but he’s almost looking a little nervous now. “No. No, I wasn’t. You hit your head, Akira-kun, you should really rest—”

“I know what I saw,” Akira cuts in. “A strong, muscular, handsome arm protecting me— Uhm, saving me—” He takes a deep breath, tries focusing once more. “You stopped the van.” His voice trembles. “You pushed it away with your hand.”

Akechi’s smile falls, his eyes turning cold. “Well, nobody is going to believe you.”

“I wasn’t even gonna tell anybody,” Akira protests. He’s got enough people already thinking he’s dangerous, violent and rude—he can’t afford to add crazy to the pile. Besides, if Akechi is truly as strong as he seems to be? Akira is calling dibs on him. No way is he gonna tell anyone else about what he’s seen, even if he has no idea just what it is yet. If Akechi is some kind of supernatural creature, if Akira is in some hidden camera plot, or if his crush is just really intensely muscular, Akira doesn’t know, but he wants him.

“I need to know the truth,” he asks Akechi, quieter, softer. Almost begging him for answers.

Akechi, for his part, stays the same: cold and unfazed and just a tiny bit angry. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“No.”

“... Well, then, I hope you enjoy disappointment.”

Once again he turns around and exits the scene before Akira can even get started with him, and while the first time left him hooked like a fish Akechi’s caught, this time, he’s bothered.

How dare he just leave him here after saving his life? Akira’s seen enough movies to know this has to go differently usually. He was all but ready to throw himself into Akechi’s arms, but apparently his pride was more important than that. Where’s his dramatic kiss?!

He sighs and tries to look down the hallway just in case Akechi is standing at the other end again, waiting to take his heart apart just by eye contact once again. Sadly there’s no one there except for a few busy nurses, so Akira does what he was planning on doing in the first place: pick up his things and check out of the hospital so he can agonise over everything that transpired today in the comfort of his own two walls and wonder why a single school transfer has him suddenly find himself as the protagonist of a weirdly cheesy and tense teen romance flick. Not that he’s complaining—Akechi is hot, which sweetens the deal a lot.

In true YA fashion, Akira even dreams about him that night, which is admittedly much better than dreaming about the trauma of almost having been crushed to death by a car. Still, seeing Akechi stand at the foot of his bed while simply staring at him creepily as he tends to do is weird enough to wake Akira up immediately, finding himself almost disappointed to discover his bedroom being empty. (Just in case, he puts on his sexier sleeping wear after this and seductively draws one leg over the comforter. You can never know, especially considering how half of their conversations so far had been Akechi asking a frankly unnerving amount of questions about his living situation.)

As much as Akechi avoids him from then on, they apparently can’t help running into each other, and when they do, it’s intense eye-contact all the way across the schoolyard. Akira knows Yoshizawa is talking to him, and sure, he likes her well enough, but he’s clearly a busy man, visibly having a homoerotic stare-off with one of Shujin’s hottest bachelors at the moment that just can’t seem to bring himself to walk away instead.

He almost misses Yoshizawa popping what appears to be a big question to her. Something about something being a month away, about it being weird, about him wanting to—

“Go to prom with me?” Yoshizawa blurts out, her face almost redder than her ponytail, and Akira has the dreadful feeling that this isn’t the first time someone’s asked him that already.

She’s sweet, so sweet, perfect to spend prom night with, but unfortunately, Akira has just lost his staring contest against Akechi who’s rubbing his victory into his face by staring at him even more, and there’s simply no way Akira can ever spare a single thought to anyone else again as long as Akechi is a student at this school and able to terrorise him like this.

“Oh, uh... prom,” he chuckles nervously, playing with his hair. “Dancing. Not such a good idea for me. Uhm.” He sees her face fall and hastily adds, “I have something that weekend anyway. I’m going to Inaba.”

“You can’t go another weekend?” Yoshizawa asks, both hopeful and still already looking like a kicked dog. Oh, Akira hates to turn her down like that, but he delights in the way Akechi glares at him even more. He wonders if it means what he wants it to mean.

“Nonrefundable ticket,” he lies. “You should ask Ryuji. I know he wants to go with you.”

Yoshizawa takes it in stride, all things considered, which at least makes Akira feel less guilty for enjoying how Akechi’s lips curl into a smirk as he walks away.

And then it’s time to board the bus and go on that greenhouse excursion. Akira doesn’t see Akechi even once the entire bus ride, but as soon as they’re there and he falls behind while following the guide through the greenhouse and listens to something about compost and fertiliser, Akechi saunters up to him as if having waited in the shadows.

“What’s in Inaba?”

Akira jumps in surprise the slightest bit before it evens out as he realises Akechi doesn’t seem to want to assassinate him just yet, or at least it probably means something good that he’s back to asking Akira weirdly invasive questions to gain information just so he can be even more invasive. Oh, he’s truly perfect. Akira swoons, even if it doesn’t make him forget just how strange the boy has been proven to be by now.

“And how did you know about that?” Akira teases him first.

“I didn’t—” Akechi looks caught off-guard. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you usually don’t answer any of mine, so...”

Silence falls between them. Akira feels bold enough to continue.

“Are you gonna tell me how you stopped the van?”

Akechi’s face unexpectedly lights up. “Oh, gladly, Akira-kun. You see, I had something called an adrenaline rush. It’s characterised by excessive release of epinephrine, which can be harmful for the human body, but in emergency situations enables it to be capable of almost superhuman strength—”

“Family,” Akira interrupts him. As much as he loves his nerdy talking, he loves it when he loses that fake smile even more, and maybe an olive branch is the correct way to achieve that here. “My family’s in Inaba—”

He stumbles over something at that moment, a strong arm immediately catching him around his waist and stabilising him. “Watch where you’re going, idiot,” Akechi hisses, then freezes at his own tone. “M-My apologies, I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

“It’s okay,” Akira quickly assures him, voice breaking halfway through as he notices how close they are. Oh, he doesn’t mind this at all. That, and he feels almost greedy to have more of this side of Akechi. “Honestly, you can degrade me some more, it’s kinda fun.”

Akechi’s eyes widen almost comically as he lets go and Akira has half a mind to double down on it, because c'mon, he’s been having heavy eye contact with Akechi for several weeks now, had a near-death experience in his arms and has also found out he may or may not have superhuman abilities, and yet they’re still base fake smiles and all lies. It’s at this moment, though, that Ryuji comes running and smacks his shoulder with his in one of his many bro greetings.

“Dude, you’re never gonna believe this, guess who just asked me to prom!”

Akira winces from the pain in his shoulder while Akechi predictably excuses himself, making Akira mourn the chance to talk more to him once again. Honestly, at this point this might become a pattern for them—figures fate has to balance their interactions now after having blessed him with a saving scene straight out of a movie.

“Is it Yoshizawa-chan?” Akira puts on a little smile.

“Yeah! Like, I actually totally thought she was gonna ask you.” Ryuji hesitates. “It’s not gonna be weird, though, right?”

“No, no,” Akira waves it off, pretends he isn’t staring at Akechi’s butt as he walks off to go to the front of the group. “Zero weirdness. You guys are great together.”

“I know, right?!”

He’s behind the bus and getting ready to get back in when someone grips Akira’s sleeve. He startles not because of the contact itself, but because of how firm the grip is. Without turning around, he somehow already knows it’s Akechi.

“Look, Akira-kun, we— we shouldn’t be friends.”

He turns around to him, stares at him weirdly before he realises. They shouldn’t be friends. Right. Because they’ve been flirting enough to be lovers. Akira’s entire face lights up with joy.

“Really? Do you, uhm, do you mean that?” He pauses. “I kinda thought you regretted not letting the van crush me, to be honest.”

Akechi looks confused and Akira is starting to get used to the sight. Nevertheless, he wonders what wasn’t clear about his reply.

“You think I regret saving you?” comes the quiet reply. “Akira, you don’t know anything.”

Somehow, Akechi seems to have gravely misunderstood him or meant something else entirely, Akira realises. Before he can clear it up, a third year with fluffy hair and a bright smile steps between them.

“Hi!” she greets Akira, chipper and yet oddly genuinely. Akira recognises her as one of the people from Akechi’s group—Haru Okumura. Are they all as pale as him? Maybe they were a book club or something. “Uhm, are you gonna be riding with us?” she asks.

“No, our bus is full,” Akechi cuts in before Akira can answer, turning around to step into the decidedly empty bus. Akira can only stare after him in disbelief as Okumura apologises to him and hurries in after Akechi.

Maybe he has to come on stronger next time? Or maybe Akechi really did mean it and he doesn’t want friendship with Akira at all. He could also be the edgy loner type, those who throw a hissy fit over being befriended, citing how they are not worth it, how they are rotten work. Not to me, not if it’s you, Akira thinks dreamily, almost missing a step when he gets into the other bus.

He’s still trying to figure out what Akechi is really feeling when he’s with him: that lightweight, easy smile and the curiosity in every word directed towards Akira, or the standoffish, rude act that slips through when Akira acts out of line, is being too determined for his own good.

“You know, your mood swings are kinda giving me whiplash,” Akira playfully bumps his hips with Akechi’s at the cafeteria’s salad buffet a few days later. “Any explanations?”

Akechi stares at his hips as if they’d personally offended him, which honestly? Can be interpreted as enough of a compliment to Akira’s physique that he’ll take it. “I’m afraid you misunderstood,” Akechi says casually, not taking his eyes from where he’s filling his bowl with apple slices only, painstakingly prying them out of the fruit salad mix. “I only said it’d be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“And what does that mean?” Akira raises an eyebrow at him first, then the pile of apple pieces in his bowl.

Akechi pulls it to his body protectively, as if he’s convinced anyone would surely be eager to steal an awfully nutritious meal such as this one from him. “It means if you were smart, you’d stay away from me.”

“Okay, let’s say for this argument’s sake that I’m not smart,” Akira starts just as he drops his spoon into the salad dressing container. He stares at it in regret for a few seconds, indicates to Akechi with a finger to not make that remark that seems to be on the tip of his tongue, then continues with a sigh. “Would you tell me the truth about yourself?”

“No, probably not,” Akechi says with a charming, fake smile, just as expected.

“Aw, man.”

“I’d rather hear your theories.”

Akira grabs a fresh spoon, ignores how by turning around, he can feel the shocked eyes of both his and Akechi’s friends on their backs as they talk. Then he starts filling his bowl with as many mozzarella balls as it can hold to top off his salad. “Okay, theory time. You’re secretly a Featherman superhero.”

He turns his head towards Akechi just in time to see his face fall. “What? I wish— I mean, look, if you’re going to waste my time, at least pretend to have a good reason for it.”

“Then who else?” Akira puts his bowl down, looks straight at him. “Batman? Superman? Spiderman? God knows there’s enough of those out there that surely every major city has a few hundreds at least.”

“... Akira-kun, I’m afraid you don’t get it yet.”

Suddenly, Akechi is in his space, crowding him against the salad bar with his face much too close to his. Akira swallows hard, stares into his deep dark eyes as if he’s cornered prey. Pretends to not hear the shocked gasps from the freshmen corner. Pretends to not notice just how much coldness radiates from him.

“What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” Akechi says, entirely unaware of Akira’s taste in fictional characters and men alike.

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’ve just been hurt and what you’re doing is a defensive mechanism to keep people away from you... it’s a mask.” He’s watched enough superhero cartoons to know how to deal with this.

Apparently he’s hit the nail on the head as Akechi leans back slightly, lips trembling. “I...” he starts, but breaks off. Oh, Akira needs to kiss this boy senseless, secret identity or not.

“Everyone’s going to the beach this weekend. You should come.”

Akechi looks at him with conflict in his eyes. “Is there... going to be sunlight?”

“Well, duh,” Akira grins. “It’s the beach.”

“... I don’t know,” Akechi says, not meeting his eyes. Akira doesn’t understand his hesitance.

“What, is there something wrong with the sun?”

“It’s, uh, it’s bright.”

Conversation dies down spectacularly awkwardly after that as both of them go back to picking around in their respective salads, Akira not sure what to say to that of all things—he can’t exactly make the sun less bright for Akechi, you know? Although he’d absolutely try. Something about pulling the stars down from the sky for your crush and all that.

It ends roughly the same way once more: someone calls Akira over, Akechi leaves as well, they hold heavy eye contact across the hall from then on, their friends look vaguely uncomfortable but are ultimately too secondhand embarrassed to intervene.

At the beach that weekend, Akira is almost too lost in his own head to truly have fun. Almost. In the end, the distraction is nice enough. Ann drags him to the karaoke bar a lot once she figures out he’s not a half-bad singer, Ryuji pretends to get drunk from children’s punch and talk to him about crushes as if they were girls at a sleepover, Yusuke from Kosei ropes him into letting him make a sand sculpture of Akira (a damn fine mermaid, if he might say so himself), Futaba—who is his caretaker’s adopted daughter and lives down the road from him—clings to him so she doesn’t have to talk to people herself.

It’s almost normal, except it isn’t.

The evening sees them all suddenly get picked up rather abruptly by their parents and caretakers, and not because of any fun teenage things like having gotten too loud or having had too much to drink.

“Animal attack,” Sojiro mumbles on the ride back home. “Poor guy had quite the gruesome death. Drawn-out as well, if you believe the doctor. Sorry to crash your party, but it’s just not safe outside tonight.”

Both him and Futaba keep silent, although Akira’s mind isn’t. He has a horrible gut feeling. “Animal attack,” he repeats. “Do you... really believe that?”

Sojiro gives him a look, but doesn’t comment on it further. Instead, he reaches into the glove compartment, pulls out two identical tasers, tossing one to Futaba and the other to Akira.

“It’ll give your old man some peace of mind.”

Akira thinks it’s just unnecessary worry on Sojiro’s part for exactly three days until he’s walking back from prom shopping with Ann and Futaba and finds himself ambushed by a group of boys easily outnumbering him. He hears them call him doll and cute and has half a mind to be flattered... until he hears the less savoury thoughts.

Akira’s actions after are owed both to survival instinct and years of having practised Aikido in his hometown. Oh, and the taser. Actually, the taser might have probably been the most important thing in this confrontation.

He’s just about to try and figure out what to do with roughly seven unconscious boys his age lying in a pile of limbs on the concrete ground in some random alleyway when he hears steps behind him. Hand on his taser, Akira whips around—and comes face to face with Akechi’s rather terrified face.

“What are you doing here?” Akira pants through his adrenaline rush.

“I was just in the area?” Akechi offers with a wobbly smile and his usual fake chipper tone, taking a cautious step away when he spots the taser. “Uhm, please put that away.”

They both know that excuse makes no sense. But then again, what would? Did Akechi have business in exactly this part of town, or perhaps... Were Akira’s fantasies coming through right now and he actually did stalk him all the way out here?

Akira beams at him, steps closer. Akechi makes a rather ungrateful noise as he stumbles away, which makes Akira realise he’s still holding the taser. Oops.

He tucks it away. “Did you follow me all the way out here?” Akira says dreamily.

“I, uhm...” Akechi seems to scramble for excuses he doesn’t need. Honestly, Akira likes the truth just fine in this situation. “I told you. I was merely in the area and, well, had a hunch you needed help, but...” He awkwardly gestures to the pile of knocked out bodies. “How?” Akira’s rarely seen him this shocked and impressed both.

He preens. “Aikido.”

“Oh.”

“And the taser.”

“I figured.”

“... Do you wanna get dinner together and tell me over that what’s going on with you?”

Akira doesn’t know why he feels courageous enough to ask, normally too shy to put himself any more out there than he already does by putting his foot in his mouth. At least Akechi doesn’t look like he immediately wants to run at the proposal.

“Alright. My car’s parked over there.” Akechi points down the road, which all but confirms Akira’s suspicions. He smiles at him brightly.

“So you were stalking me.”

“I wasn’t. If anything, I’d prefer the term ‘keeping an eye on you’.”

“Sure. C’mon, let’s go. I could use something to eat after that shock.”

The entire ride there, he watches Akechi’s side-profile. Takes note of how concentrated he seems as a driver and how he still can’t help but glance to the side. Akira meets his repeated looks with a different grimace of his own each time until Akechi finally groans and says, “Fine, yes, there is something I have not been telling you.” It was that easy, huh?

He almost bounces up the steps to the restaurant if not for the people stepping out of it. Akira is just starting to apologise for blocking their way when he sees who it is, and ah—he has no idea if this is bad luck or good luck at all to meet them here while Shujin’s hottest and most unobtainable bachelor is having a hand on his lower back as if he was owning Akira.

“Akira? What are you doing here?” Ann frowns at him.

“Yeah, like, I thought you didn’t wanna come to dinner with us?” Futaba pushes her hands into her sides, puffing up her cheeks.

Both sets of eyes are glaring at him and before Akira can try and explain himself since he was really not planning on having dinner, especially not at coincidentally the same location the two of them had chosen as well, Akechi steps out of the shadows and gives them a blinding smile that makes both of them gape. Staring back and forth at where his arm goes and the boy himself.

“I’m sorry I kept Akira-kun from dinner,” he chirps, looking every part the muster boyfriend and not nearly as murderous as Akira has seen him while overtaking any car slower than him just now. “We just sort of ran into each other and got talking, and then I thought I should make sure he eats something...” He’s a good actor, that much Akira will give him.

“Oh. My. God,” Futaba whispers.

Ann laughs awkwardly. “No, like, we totally understand, I mean, that happens, right? Um...” She’s such a bad actor, but Futaba seems to go along with it judging from her wobbly, forced smile, and Akechi is eating it up anyway. “We were just leaving, right, Futaba-chan?”

“Oh, totally,” she imitates Ann, pointing to him and Akechi as she walks past them and circles them. “You two behave now, okay? See you tomorrow!”

The two leave, but not before throwing him an absolutely flabbergasted look behind Akechi’s back. He’s gonna have to do a lot of explaining the next day at school, huh? Akira pushes the thought away for now in favour of looking back at Akechi, locking eyes with him as so often at school, and then doing nothing but that for a few moments just to bask in it without the pressure of time for once. He quite likes this little staring obsession they got going on, although he’s starting to be more than just a bit curious about if there’s anything going on at all behind those eyes (yellow today), or if his head is just as blissfully empty as Akira’s whenever they do this.

“Let’s continue this inside?” Akira asks, meaning both their creepy stare-off and that argument about Akechi’s secrets making him hold cars and other things.

Akechi doesn’t take his eyes off him as he smirks, making Akira blush. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Inside, the tension between them is palpable. There’s little people in the restaurant at this hour, but just enough to make it feel cosy with its round tables for two and the only light coming from old-looking lamps on each table.

Akechi is just falling back into his old staring habits when the waitress arrives with Akira’s order: a burger at least three times as big as his mouth, putting a big smile on his face even when Akechi does a double take.

“There— there must have been a mistake with your order,” he stammers, eyes glued onto how Akira is happily taking it into his hands, as if he isn’t the real weirdo here, having taken him to a restaurant only to order nothing for himself. Akira doesn’t think he’s ever seen this guy eat anything that wasn’t apples. Special diet, Akechi had said earlier.

Couldn’t be him.

“No mistakes. That was all me, baby,” he grins at him before taking a large bite out of his burger, moaning in satisfaction like the whore for good food he is. Nothing beats an extra large burger after a good street fight. He’s in heaven.

Akira motions for Akechi to start talking while he eats. Luckily, he gets the hint, clearing his throat and ripping his baffled eyes away from his burger to look down at the tablecloth instead.

“I feel... very... protective of you.”

Akira swallows hastily. Beams at him. This might as well have been a confession, right? Right. “So you were following me.”

“I was trying to keep a distance unless you needed my help,” Akechi defends himself, and Akira swears that in any other light, he’d probably be able to see red in Akechi’s face. “But then I heard what those lowlifes were thinking, and..."

“Wait.” Akira pauses halfway to his next bite, face almost entirely covered by his burger with only his eyes peeking out. “You heard what they were thinking? So what, you read minds?”

It’s meant to be a joke, so it’s all the more surprising when that’s what makes Akechi nod his head. He leans in, stares into Akira’s eyes deeply. Akira, who’s still frozen with his burger in front of him in the air and his mouth halfway open.

“I can read every mind in this room,” Akechi whispers, probably the most normal thing he’s ever said to Akira. “... Apart from yours.”

Blinking at him curiously, then finally managing to bite into his burger, Akira thinks he might be reacting a little too lacklustre to the confirmation that his crush is having some sort of supernatural ability and that apparently Akira is the only one immune to it.

Akechi nods to the couple at the table beside them. “There’s money, sex...” To the one behind him. “Money and sex. Huh.” A glance towards a gruff-looking man close to the entrance. “Cats.” Then his eyes turn back to him. “And then you, nothing.”

Honestly, Akira believes him.

“It’s very frustrating,” Akechi tacks on.

Akira chews his burger in thought. Swallows. Looks at Akechi in concern. “Is there something wrong with me?”

He earns a frown. “Are you stupid?” Akechi hisses, before catching his tone and looking away in embarrassment, then back at him. “I mean, I tell you I read minds, and you think there’s something wrong with you.” He chews his lips, and Akira can see from a mile away that there’s something else bothering him.

“What is it?” he asks quietly, setting down his burger as he also leans in.

Akechi’s eyes glide down to his lips, then snap back up. “I’m afraid I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.”

“Then don’t.” Akira leans in even further, too close to not expect something to happen. There’s no warmth coming from Akechi’s face so close to his, no blush on his pale cheeks, but that’s alright. The way his amber eyes widen is enough for Akira.

In the end, he still pulls away before anything can happen, leaving Akira feeling as cold as he imagines Akechi’s skin is to the touch. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

“You should finish up so I can take you home already.”

It really doesn’t matter.

Once Akechi drops him off at home, he finds himself immediately gravitating towards his computer. How to kiss a boy as a boy, he enters into the Google search first before remembering Sojiro can check his search history. Embarrassed, he deletes it and puts something more acceptable in instead: How to identify a supernatural creature that doesn’t eat, changes eye colour, is super strong, and is maybe killing people around town. That ought to be an easier start.

Akira clicks his way from hyperlink to hyperlink, stumbling across the strangest sites of the 2000s that range from credit card scams to ramblings by one single lunatic to old tales passed down in indigenous tribes. Nothing makes sense and yet everything seems to bring him a little closer to what he’s looking for.

Akechi isn’t just a regular human, that much he knows by now. He doesn’t eat food unless it’s something very light. Doesn’t go out into the sunlight. His eyes change colour from almost black to yellow to something darker again. He’s almost unnaturally pale and doesn’t seem to blush, his skin also seems much too cold to the touch. Superhuman speed and superhuman strength are just a few of the abilities he possesses—if he wasn’t making a fool of Akira today, then mind-reading as well.

He’s sure of it now. He knows what Akechi is.

The rest of the night finds him tossing and turning in bed, his mind conjuring up image after image of Akechi pressing him into the mattress, nosing up his neck, taking a deep breath of him before sinking his fangs into his neck. Akira shudders, moans in his sleep, thrashing from side to side only to wake with a start, hot with sweat and yet cold as he recognises he’s alone in his bed.

He can’t take it. The tension between them at school is unbearable too, even if Akechi doesn’t avoid him anymore. No, rather the opposite: the way he hovers around Akira now no matter where at school they run into each other, it’s almost as if he’s putting a claim on him in front of everyone. His dreams are coming true and yet none of them are. Akira can’t take it.

There has to be a confrontation. Akira knows Akechi is just waiting for it.

Their eyes meet across the schoolyard after class ends and Akira knows he can’t avoid it anymore. Slowly, as if in a trance, he walks towards Akechi, holding his heavy gaze all the while. It’s as if nobody matters but him; no one even exists in this world where it’s him and Akechi only.

Akira walks past him at the last possible moment. Makes sure to brush their hands together and commits the feeling of his gloves ghosting against his knuckles to memory.

It’s an invitation. A promise.

He walks further and further, not stopping to look back, not making the same mistake as Orpheus as he relies on Eurydice to come after him no matter if the world burns around them. The ground under him changes from grassy to mossy; the landscape around him grows thick with trees. He’s in the forest, and judging from the prickling feeling on his neck, he’s brought what might very well be a monster in hiding here to be alone with.

He arrives at a clearing and breathes in the deep forest air. It gives him strength.

“You’re impossibly fast and strong,” he says.

There is a crunch behind him; he’s heard. Akira continues, forcing his voice to not shake.

“Your skin is pale white and cold. Your eyes change colour.” He swallows hard. “And sometimes you speak like—”

“Like I’m from a different time?” Akechi adds behind him, voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“Like you’re a pretentious nerd,” Akira turns around and corrects him. His face softens at Akechi’s frown. “A lovable one.” There. That makes him look away shyly.

“You never eat or drink anything,” Akira continues. “You don’t go out in the sunlight.” He pauses. Then, “How old are you?”

It takes Akechi a while to answer. “Eighteen.”

“... How long have you been eighteen?”

“... A while.”

Silence falls between them, only interspersed by Akira’s rapid breaths of air. He feels hot with nervousness. His blood is pounding in his ears and he’s sure Akechi can hear.

“I know what you are,” he gasps, pulse beating hot, hyperfocused on his own anxiety as if Akechi could lunge forward and rip into him at any moment.

It’s then that he notices Akechi’s breathing too. Rapid and strained as he steps closer, breathing down his neck. “Say it,” he rasps. “Out loud.”

Akira knows if he says the word, it won’t just change their relationship forever, but also his life, and it roots him into place. Yet he knows he’s already caught prey; the eyes on him are a gun against his neck.

“Say it,” Akechi repeats, coiled tight as if inactiveness would make a monster much worse out of him, and Akira knows they’d both lost from the beginning already.

So he swallows his fears, imagines Akechi’s fangs rip into his neck, imagines his animal take over, and it prickles over his neck, the phantom pain of his future self that had been confident enough to attempt to tame a beast. It lays the word onto his tongue like a gift.

Akira exhales a breath and with it the weight of a secret.

“Werewolf.”

He expects many things to happen as he turns around and faces Akechi head on. For him to ask Akira if he’s afraid, to brush his fingers against his neck as if it’s the last proof of affection he’ll ever give to him, to kill him where he stands and make this forest an eternal resting place for all the wishes unspoken between them.

He doesn’t expect Akechi to stare at him as if he’d offended his entire bloodline.

“... You’re so fucking stupid, Akira,” Akechi mumbles and steps forward, hand reaching out to sneak around the back of his neck and draw him in, and oh—

He kisses Akira, lips crashing into his.

Akira trembles where he stands, held up only by thin wires close to snapping and a strong hand on his nape keeping him exactly where Akechi wants him: on his lips, in his mouth, under his teeth. Fangs. They’re brushing over his bottom lip like a threat to sink in and draw blood hotter than any part pressed up against him currently could ever be, and that’s when it hits Akira—

—that yeah, he really is fucking stupid.

He shakes to his core when Akechi pulls away, gripping his coat lapels as if afraid he’ll let go now and leave him forever. “You could have just told me that you’re a vampire,” Akira whispers in a tremble, watching his dark red eyes in barely-contained adoration.

Akechi makes a face at being called that, but overall Akira’s second guess seems to be true. Akira leans back in to peck him once, twice, just in case Akechi is regretting kissing him already and needs to be reminded what he’d have missed out on otherwise.

“Because that’s a normal thing to parade around,” Akechi scoffs when Akira has mercy on him again and pulls back. “Really, Akira, sometimes it baffles me how you’re both the most intriguing, challenging person I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting... and the stupidest one as well.”

Akira preens in his arms, winds his own around his neck, plays with the hair at Akechi’s nape no matter how it makes him briefly flinch as if this touch caught him off-guard like none before. “And still you kissed me for it,” he purrs. “Sounds to me as if you’re just whipped.”

“Now, don’t be too arrogant, Akira,” Akechi responds with a raised eyebrow, gloved finger drawing a line up to his lips. Akira curls them and presses a kiss to it, then leans in to claim his mouth again.

His lips are met with the palm of Akechi’s hand this time. Akechi tilts his head to the side, presses kisses to his cheek, jaw, neck that have him shiver. Exhales against his throat, breathes him in deeply.

“You smell so good,” Akechi mumbles. “You should run away from me before it kills us both.”

As appealing as the idea of being chased through the woods by his obsessed vampire senpai is, Akira can’t pull away even if he tried.

“I don’t care,” he gasps, baring his neck to him without even thinking. Akechi’s hand immediately drops down to cover the exposed skin and he pulls away, covering his nose. Letting his hand drop and stepping back.

“I’m designed to kill.”

Akira steps closer. “I don’t care.”

Akechi’s eyes snap to his, an angry red. “I’ve killed people before.” Another step back.

“It doesn’t matter.”

One more step forward and Akechi stops where he is. Another, and the distance between them closes. Akira wants to reach out, but he keeps to himself for now—as frightening as Akechi is trying to make himself be, he looks like a scared animal right now.

“I wanted to kill you. I’ve never wanted a human’s blood so much in my life,” he shakes.

“I trust you,” Akira whispers with all the genuinity he has and reaches out despite his best interest, cupping Akechi’s cheek tenderly. He manages to have him look up at him with shock and something akin to wonder for not even a second before Akechi breaks away again, grabbing his wrist and pushing him away.

“We vampires, we learn to control our thirst,” he says, walking a few steps away. “My clan, we only drink from animals. We’ve sworn to never harm an innocent human again.”

Distantly, Akira is relieved that this means Akechi can’t be behind the gruesome murders that have recently been happening around town, although he doesn’t quite believe them to be animal attacks now either.

“But you,” Akechi continues, turning to him. “It’s you, it’s your scent.” His eyes burn at him. “It’s like a drug to me. My own personal brand of heroin.”

Akira feels as if set on fire from his words. “Then why did you hate me so much when we first met?”

“Because I wanted you so badly,” Akechi mumbles. “And I still hate you for it.”

“I don’t,” Akira says softly. “I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Akechi’s voice is not nearly as sharp as his words. “I still don’t know if I can control myself.”

“I know you can,” Akira counters, and it’s when he sees the conflict in Akechi’s eyes and the way he’s searching his own for clues that he can’t help but move in again.

This time he’s not leaving him any space or choice as he takes his lips with his. Akechi moans brokenly, but only pulls him in tighter, the leather of his gloves crinkling softly as he grips Akira’s shirt tightly. Like a drug, Akira’s mind whispers, and he licks over Akechi’s lips just to get a taste of addiction himself.

Akechi’s mouth opens to let him in, Akira’s tongue glides over a sharp fang, and strong hands separate them as quickly as Akira has brought them together.

Akechi is panting as he stares at him, looking properly unmade, and okay—with how affected he looks, maybe Akira can understand why he pushed him away when he did. Still he closes the distance, catches Akechi’s hand when it comes up as if to guard himself and keep Akira away once more. Intertwines his fingers with his and reaches out to cup his face tenderly with his free hand.

Akira tenderly brushes over his cheek, watching Akechi crumble apart under it. “I’m not afraid of you. I could never be. Won’t you believe that?” He sees that he’s making progress. Oh, he just has to, because he doesn’t think he could ever leave Akechi alone again after this.

Akechi’s other hand lays over Akira’s on his face, but instead of taking it away, he keeps it there and leans his head into the contact. “Why would I? I can’t read your mind,” he says quietly, as if that’s what he needs for trust. Akira would laugh if he couldn’t connect the dots as someone who’s never giving people enough of himself so that it would hurt were they to run off with it.

“You don’t have to,” he says, and he wishes he could say so much more than just that, but every word is a dare, a gamble right now.

Akechi’s hand cupping his takes it off his face at that, pushing against the grip he has on both of them to walk Akira back until his back hits resistance. He can feel a branch dig into his shoulder rather unsexily, but Akira chooses to ignore it and rather focus on how the other’s eyebrows furrow in determination and conflict both.

Akechi leans in. Bares his fangs and growls at him. Looking moments away from ripping him to shreds. Throughout all the affection and heat Akira feels at the display, a tiny sarcastic voice smugly says that the werewolf guess wasn’t that odd after all.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Akechi hisses.

Akira’s eyes drop to his fangs, then back to his dark eyes where the barest hint of red shines through. He tries recalling what Akechi said. He’s killed before. He wanted to kill Akira too. Even now, he’s so hungry for Akira it’s hard for him to retain control.

“I’m afraid,” Akira whispers, and almost regrets it as Akechi’s face falls.

He looks miserable. “Good.”

“Not of you.” He cups his face again until Akechi meets his eyes again. “I’m afraid of losing you. That... you’ll disappear, and that I won’t know how to find you.”

Akira sees how Akechi searches his eyes, how he’s judging him as if he was a convict in court, the verdict guilty trembling on his tongue and yet finding no reason for actually damning Akira with his sentence.

And just like that, he smiles. Akira realises with a start it’s the first time he’s seen him do it without faking it, without using it as an instrument. His heart flutters in his chest when Akechi’s thumb brushes his hair out of his face.

“... You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for someone like you.”

They end up walking up the mountain together. Akechi promises him wildflowers and a stunning view, which is a pretty good incentive in Akira’s eyes to try and keep up with it. His legs do tire out after he has to lift them over the umpteenth rock, though, and his complaining is apparently enough for Akechi to throw him onto his shoulders unceremoniously and demonstrate just how fast vampires can really run.

Weirdly enough, it’s like riding a motorcycle, only that Akira is riding a man instead, and not in the fun way. The whiplash is a little harsh on him.

Up on the mountain, the view indeed makes up for it, even if they end up lying in a meadow instead. Akechi’s face is calm and unguarded as he looks at Akira next to him in the grass, looking nothing like the standoffish boy from biology class Akira’s gotten to know him as. He thinks about touching his cold lips again, then realises he can do that now and reaches out towards his face. Akechi catches his hand before it can meet its goal, presses his nose to his wrist, inhales him deeply. Kisses the skin where his veins are visible. If this is a dream, Akira never wants to wake up.

He does end up cupping Akechi’s face again, holding eye contact with him as if it’s his favourite thing in the world. It’s then that the sun comes out; and like a million diamonds, Akechi’s skin starts to sparkle where sunlight falls on it.

Honestly, at this point nothing confuses Akira anymore. This is the least crazy thing he’s learnt about Akechi so far.

“It’s beautiful,” he mumbles, thumbing over the part of his face illuminated by the sun. “Like diamonds. You’re gorgeous.”

“Beautiful.” Akechi smiles bitterly. “There’s nothing beautiful about this. This is the skin of a killer, Akira.”

“I don’t believe that.” Akira pauses. Well, he can believe that Akechi killed, just not that it makes him a monster. Nuance, you know? “You’re so beautiful,” he repeats it for good measure, giving him a little smile.

Akechi looks at him as if he’s a puzzle he can’t figure out, then softens again. “You’re really something, Akira.” His hand reaches out, draws a line up his neck to his jaw. “And so the lion fell in love with the lamb,” he mumbles.

Akira almost snorts. “Romantic. What a stupid lamb, huh?”

“And what a sick, masochistic lion."

If Akira kisses him again just so he doesn’t have to hear any more corny lines, well, that’s his business alone. It’s not as if Akechi minds.

When he falls into his bed that night, he can still feel Akechi on his lips and his fingers on his neck. It’s when he settles down and starts to think that things start to replay in his mind. The past hours, the past week, the past few months at Shujin where everything for him revolved around Akechi, Akechi, Akechi.

About three things, Akira is absolutely positive now.

One, Akechi is a vampire.

Two, there is a part of him that’s thirsting for his blood.

Three... Akira is falling unconditionally, irrevocably in love with him.

...

And if it kills him in the end, it will have been worth it just to see him smile like he has today.