Work Text:
“This is sooo saadd!” Ann whined as she picked off the 9th glow star from the ceiling. She frowned as she threw the teared sticker into their plastic bag of trash.
Turns out the glow in the dark stickers gifted by Yusuke were quite durable. Ren wasn’t exactly foreseeing standing on his sorry excuse for a bed with Ann for up to thirty minutes by then, going at it at the ceiling trying to peel them off with their fingernails and using scrapers to get the sticker residue off.
But it was March, the window was open to great weather, Ann brought over sweet treats, and her presence was very appreciated, so he could hardly feel annoyed.
“It is kind of sad,” Ren agreed with a small chuckle, “I don’t think we even really need to be doing this. I don’t think Sojiro would care.”
“Well here we are,” Ann laughed, “Anything can be fun with you, so I’m alright.”
Ren smiled at that. He thought it was the other way around.
Ann glanced down momentarily, then back up at him again. She seemed like she was pondering something.
“...How are you feeling?” Ann asked suddenly. Her eyes felt like they burned into him. He refused to meet them.
“What do you mean?” Ren questioned, even though he thought he knew already.
“Just about moving, and the winter, I guess,” Ann shrugged, “Everything, really.”
Ren paused his movements on the scraper. His fingers quickly found their way to fiddle with his bangs without thinking; an obvious nervous antic that Ann knew by now.
“Sorry, loaded question,” Ann sat down onto the bed, letting her back fall against the sheets with a huff, “If you don’t wanna say you don’t have to. I’ve just been wondering.”
Ren glanced at her laying down, taking the cue that he should join her. He placed his scraper on the windowsill and flopped down onto the bed, both of them staring up at the half decorated wooden beams.
“Why do you ask?” Ren questioned. He listened to the quiet mumbles of conversation outside, the breathing of Ann, the small breeze through the window.
“Um… Well I…” The guilt in Ann’s voice made him look over at her, finding her petting one of her pigtails. Ren couldn’t place the drop of panic in his chest, like he was about to get caught for something bad.
“Like, um, five minutes ago I saw black fabric peeking out from under your pillow,” Ann murmured, “I nudged it just to see what it was and um. Well…”
The drop of panic turned into a well of panic. He knew she knew what it was and it made him want to curl up. He must’ve froze completely, because Ann’s voice came quickly again.
“I-I’m not like, mad or upset or anything!” Ann defended, raising her body with her elbow and watching Ren’s facial expression, “I’m sorry for bringing it up I’m just-”
“No, I know,” Ren swallowed. He shook his head. This felt stupid. “I don’t normally… keep it under there,” his cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and he didn’t know why the first thing he was saying was defending his choice of placement. He really did feel like a toddler who got caught.
“I know it’s… in your pocket most days,” Ann pursed her lips.
Ren stared and stared at the ceiling. Maybe if he stared hard enough, a hole in the ceiling would burn through, and he’d have an out. Crawl away and maintain the role he was supposed to play.
“You really loved him,” Ann said after a moment of silence. The words felt weird to hear out loud. Ren didn’t know if he had even spoken the words to himself in his head. It was a statement he knew was a truth in his chest. A part of him that occupied his space, and stayed despite the person being on the other end no longer having the string tied to his finger. A suffocating part that felt like it only got bigger and bigger, making his organs and heart squish together and make space for it.
“I’m sorry,” were the words that slipped out of Ren’s mouth before he could stop them. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Ann frowned, the warmth of her hand cupping his own gently, sweetly, “You don’t have to say sorry for loving someone.”
“No, I do,” Ren shook his head, “It’s awful. I really hurt him. I really hurt everybody.”
“Ren…” Ann sighed.
“Everybody gave up their wishes. And I just-” Ren could feel the sting of his tear ducts, and he felt like the smallest person on the planet. He hardly cried, but when he did, it was something reserved for the weakest late nights. He never cried in front of his friends. He scrunched his nose, praying to keep it together, “I stayed delusional, all of January. I held onto him far longer. I held onto somebody that hurt my friends.”
“We…” Ann paused, “You’re the one that snapped us all out of it. You took the effort and the empathy to… wake us up from our own selfishness. I cannot imagine how you were feeling during that time.”
When Ren didn’t say anything, she continued.
“You sacrifice so much of yourself for us, and we wouldn’t have gotten out without you. You hold yourself to an impossible standard. Intentional or not, we left you to deal with it all alone, with the person by your side being… you know. I think about how we didn’t do that for you. I mean, no one knew. We- I didn’t know if you had a wish,” Ann picked at her clothes, “But I suspected, a bit.”
An uncomfortable pang ran through Ren’s body.
“You did?” Ren questioned, weakly.
“I really didn’t know, but I thought if you did have one, that maybe it was the case,” Ann admitted, “I hoped not, so I didn’t think too far into it.”
A pause. Ren felt like he could hear static.
“Are you still holding onto hope that he could be alive?” Ann asked.
Ren wasn’t going to lie.
“Yes,” Ren admitted in a murmur, as much as a confession to him as it was to her.
Ren loved him, and a part of him still thought of him as alive. The truth was written in stone now that it was spoken into the air. Something he couldn’t take back. He didn’t think he was able to for a while.
He peeked at the glove peeking out from where it laid, almost as a taunt. He grabbed it, and squeezed it in his hands.
“Okay,” Ann said, a simple statement that told him she wasn’t going to question or fight him about it.
The silence that followed after was an invitation for his tears to finally fall down his cheeks. He hastily wiped his face, but more tears replaced them anyway. And before he knew it, he choked on a sob.
He found himself enveloped in a hug. Not too tight, not too soft. An embrace that allowed him to hide his face in her shoulder and cry. Feeling the sensation of crying made him realize he hadn’t allowed himself to cry after everything until now, and it felt weird. Unnatural. Liberating. Maybe he could be selfish one more time. And so he sobbed against her, shaking and sniffling.
“I miss him,” another confession that now felt more true than ever, “I thought I had him back but I didn’t. It isn’t fair.”
“It’s not fair,” Ann agreed, petting Ren’s hair in a soothing motion, “It’s cruel.”
Ren felt pitiful, gross, childish. He felt shameful. But most of all right then, he felt comforted. He knew he needed to say it out loud, despite the discomfort that followed. The bottle cap opened against his will, but he let it spill out instead of plugging it back up again.
“You should tell me about him,” Ann said when Ren calmed down to small sniffles. She cupped his cheek, leading him out of her shoulder and looking at the broken boy in the eyes. She gave him a kind smile. “If you want, of course. But I barely knew him. I would like… to see Akechi in your eyes.”
Ren nodded, an unexpected joy finding its way in the mix of his emotions. It felt good to talk about Akechi like he wasn’t an eggshell to step on. Like he wasn’t something that had to be avoided. It was nice to think about how he snorted when he saw Ren draw a smiley face in his coffee once, or how he was actually really good at video games, instead of everything that failed him.
And if he knew Akechi, then he knew that if Akechi saw him now, that he’d make fun of him. Maybe it was fucked up, but the thought helped him keep him going. Akechi kept him in a rivalry, even in his absence.
“I don’t even know how you got his glove, all I know is that it’s his,” Ann raised her eyebrows, teasing, “It seems romantic.”
Ren smiled toothily. Romantic was one word for it.