The group cheered and shouted as their leader returned to them. While Akira's face was bruised and bandaged, a soft smile rested on his face. It was hard to believe that his imprisonment was only a mere two hours ago, and it was two hours ago that he was shot in the head.
The Phantom Thieves might have pulled off their most incredible mission yet, and according to the group, nothing was lost. But Akira would beg to differ. Akechi, the one person Akira could finally be himself around, had shot him in the head.
Everyone had their version of Akira in their mind. For example, Ryuji has a supportive best friend, Makoto has a study partner, and so on. They all collectively believe that Akira will be there for them at a moment's notice, yet they never consider returning the favor. Instead, they expect Akira to help them with all their problems, lead them in their missions, get good grades, hold full-time jobs, restock and supply their weapons and medicines, and so on.
But Akechi was, as cliche as it sounds, different from everyone. He would rant and ask for help from Akira like the others would, but he would also give Akira a chance to rant and personally ask if anything was bothering him. In addition, Akechi would ensure that the other was handling himself properly, which tugged at something in Akira's heart.
Akira would push aside these feelings and treat the situation like anyone else. The more his heart fluttered and skipped a beat; the more Akira couldn't ignore his issue. Akechi, as lightly as Akira can put it, is a murderer, a psychopath living a double life. Why is his heart trying to go after the most dangerous person Akira has met?!
But this rational thought never stood a chance with his teenage heart. The plan to trick Akechi into killing a different version of Akira worked; Akechi didn't expect a thing. That made Akira's problem so much worse.
The tears that slipped down Akechi's face, his quivering lip, the decision, and the action he had to make filled his eyes with sorrow and dread. While Akechi would only see a cold-looking Akira, the real Akira cried alongside the other, wanting so badly to shout out and tell Akechi that he wasn't going to die from the bullet he was about to plant in his head.
But, like the strong-ish leader that he was, Akira continued to cry silently behind the scenes. Akechi had lifted the gun to Akira's forehead, shaking and crying while looking off to the side so he wouldn't have to see what he was about to do.
"I'm sorry."
Akechi pulled the trigger when he spoke, cleaned himself of his tears, and stepped out of the interrogation room without looking back at Akira's 'body.' Akira, the real one, had collapsed to the cell floor, sobbing and choking while trying to catch his breath. What was done was done, and Akira would only see Akechi again if they had to fight. God, Akira doesn't know if he wants that to happen or not.
The Thieves had left a while ago, still smiling and having a great time with each other as they shut the door to the small cafe. Akira had convinced Morgana to spend the night with Futaba so he could get some decent sleep without a cat lying on top of him, which worked out.
Akira didn't stay in the cafe long. Despite the heavy rain outside, he slipped his hoodie on, left the attic, and went out into the streets. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go, probably the jazz club to remember the good old days with Akechi. Of course, fate had a different idea for him. Of course, Akechi had to be standing in the alley in the pouring rain.
Akechi had been crying, but to anyone else, rain strips were on his face. Both males paused, both surprised that the other was standing before him. Why was Akechi here? How could Akria be here?
Neither male spoke; the rain drumming in their ears was surprisingly louder than their heartbeats, both from the anxiety of what the other would do. Akira took a few careful steps toward Akechi, who stood in disbelief.
"Why are you here?"
This visibly shook Akechi. He hugged himself and lowered his head, "I was stupid enough to think this would give me closure. But now you... how?"
Akira knew this was not the right time to explain the long and carefully placed plan for Akira's survival. Akechi was now shivering in place, and not because of the cold. Or maybe that was a helping factor. Either way, Akechi was shaking, and the tears were spilling.
"Forgive me."
Akechi choked and sobbed as he snapped his head to look at Akria. The said male gave a soft smile and nodded as he spoke, "I forgave you to moment you pulled the trigger."
Akechi couldn't help but chuckle, which turned into a full laugh and sob simultaneously. Akechi was visibly breaking down in front of Akira, something Akechi would never do in his right state of mind. Without a second thought, Akira wrapped his arms around Akechi, squeezing him into a warm hug.
The trembling male continued apologizing, which Akira had tuned out by now. Akechi had killed so many people, and that didn't seem to faze him in his day-to-day life. Does this mean that Akira was different from the others? Was he somehow special compared to the other killings?
Whatever the reason, Akira was grateful that he wasn't being stabbed in the back right now, literally and figuratively. But the rain was only getting harder, and the males were shivering; this time, it was the cold. So, Akira leads them both to the cafe and to the small attic he calls his room.
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