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After everything that happened today, Ryuji just wants to go home.
A nice, long, warm bath, some time with his bed, and a late start tomorrow. Yeah, all that sounds like heaven. Maybe he’ll even catch his mom when she comes home from work and they can have dinner together. That would be awesome. Even if everyone else is mad at him tonight, he’s sure they’ll have calmed down by tomorrow, and they can figure out their next move from there.
Now, all Ryuji has to do is figure out how to get home from here. He hasn’t spent a whole lot of time around the Diet Building, and honestly he isn’t sure how he’s gonna make it to the station considering–
“Ryuji,”
“Jesus Christ!” Ryuji shouts, nearly jumping out of his skin when Akira practically materializes behind him. The bastard is like a goddamn ninja. Ryuji should put a damn bell on him. “What’s wrong, Akira? I thought you went home already.”
Akira makes a face. Ryuji does not like this face. It’s the face Akira makes when he’s made a decision that Ryuji is not going to like, but that he is not willing to argue about.
Great.
“What’s up, man?” Ryuji prompts. Better to just get it over with.
“You’re coming back to Leblanc with me,” Akira says like it’s a fact. Ryuji blinks.
“No? I’m not?”
“Yes, you are,” Akira insists, furrowing his brow. “I’m not letting you go home alone. So we can go back to Leblanc, or we can stand here in the cold all night.”
Now, right at this very moment, there is truly nothing Ryuji wants more than to go home. But Akira wants him to go back to Leblanc, and there is very little that Ryuji would not do for Akira.
“...fine,” Ryuji relents with a stubborn sigh. “At least lemme text my mom, first.”
Akira’s face practically lights up, and he quickly latches onto Ryuji’s arm, like he thinks Ryuji’s gonna try to make a break for it while he sends his mom a sleeping over at Akira’s place text. Their leader’s always been a clingy bastard. The others just don’t see as much of it. Which would be fine, Ryuji doesn’t mind, if Akira didn’t cling to him the whole. way. home.
The entire train ride back to Yongen. The walk through the back streets. Even when they step into the café. Boss has long gone home for the night, and Ryuji still has a clingy leader problem.
Akira only lets go once they’ve gotten up the stairs, and it still takes a minute for him to relent. Once he does let go, he crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes.
“Sit,” Akira demands, pointing to the couch. Ryuji is really just too tired to argue, so he drops onto the couch in a perfectly normal, not at all suspicious way. Akira narrows his eyes further.
“Take off your pants,” Akira demands.
“Wh–” Ryuji blinks. “I know Boss isn’t here, but don’t you think it’s a little–”
“Ryuji,” Akira hisses, and Ryuji quickly realizes that Akira is in his not fucking around mood. “Take. Off. Your. Pants.”
And yeah, normally Ryuji would probably put up more of a fight. But when Akira looks at him like his whole world will collapse if Ryuji doesn’t listen, he really can’t do anything about it. He sighs through his nose and undoes his belt, slipping out of his jeans and dropping them on the floor beside the couch. Akira’s eyes narrow behind his glasses as he stares at Ryuji’s bad leg, the long gash down the inside of his thigh that he was trying his damndest not to let anyone notice, and the ring of bruises around his old injury.
He pointedly avoids Akira’s gaze, instead glaring at the floor. Of course if anyone managed to clock him, it would be Akira. The bastard just knows him too damn well.
“Were you really just gonna go home?” Akira asks, a suspicious lack of emotion in his voice. Ryuji tentatively looks up as Akira crosses the room and pulls his first aid kit out from under the desk. “Without saying anything?”
“Figured I’d take care’ve it myself,” Ryuji shrugs. The answer, while honest, just seems to make Akira more upset.
“You–” Akira starts, and quickly cuts himself off. He drops the first aid kit and sits on the floor in front of the couch. Without saying anything, he reaches out and starts prodding at the gash, the frown on his face getting deeper.
“Luckily it’s not too deep,” Akira comments. “Probably won’t have to call Takemi.”
Ryuji would rather have calling Takemi off the table entirely, but that is reassuring. Akira carefully wipes around the wound with a disinfectant, ignoring Ryuji’s hiss at the sting. The cloth comes away stained red, and Ryuji does not like the shift in Akira’s face when he sees it.
“Akira–”
“Don’t,” Akira snaps, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Just– hold on.”
Ryuji shuts his mouth. Akira removes a roll of bandages from the kit and carefully wraps it around the wound. Once the bandages are tied off, Akira grabs a disposable ice pack, pops it, and presses it to the ring of bruises around the old injury. Ryuji takes the ice pack and Akira turns away, quickly packing up the first aid kit.
“Akira,” Ryuji says, more insistently. Akira still won’t look him in the eyes, and it’s starting to tick Ryuji off. “Akira.”
“What?” Akira finally looks up. Ryuji doesn’t remember the last time he saw Akira cry. Even when he came back to them beat to hell, halfway to the grave, and struggling to keep himself awake, Ryuji doesn’t remember seeing Akira cry.
“Akira…” Ryuji doesn’t know what to say. His throat feels tight and he doesn’t know what to do, either. He slips off the couch - refusing to grimace in pain - and sits in front of Akira on the hardwood floor.
“C’mon, man, I–” Wow, Ryuji should be better at this by now, shouldn’t he? “I’m…”
“You’re an idiot,” Akira hisses, while simultaneously surging forward and tightly wrapping his arms around Ryuji’s torso. Ryuji is momentarily stunned, but he quickly returns the embrace as Akira buries his face into Ryuji’s shoulder.
“W-We–” Akira’s voice is quiet and strained and shaky in a way that is so not Akira that it makes Ryuji’s stomach turn. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you. I thought you–” Akira shakes his head. Ryuji rubs his hand gently up and down Akira’s back.
“You idiot,” Akira sobs softly. Ryuji certainly feels like an idiot right now.
“I know,” he says gently.
“I thought I lost you,” Akira continues, clinging tighter, curling his fingers into the back of Ryuji’s shirt. “I thought you–” Akira shakes his head.
“I know, Akira,” Ryuji repeats softly. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. Everything’s okay. I’m sorry for scaring you, man.”
“Never do that again,” Akira demands, pulling back enough to meet Ryuji’s eyes. “Do you understand? Never scare me like that again.”
Ryuji nods, pulling Akira back into the embrace, tucking him against his chest.
“I won’t,” he says, carefully threading his fingers into the base of Akira’s hair. “I promise.”