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Ren was no stranger to nightmares. In fact, he was practiced with them. Comfortable enough with them to know how to minimize any outburst, how to stop the crying, how to avoid screaming, how to keep them silent. He had to be. If it wasn’t for the sake of his parents, it was for the other thieves. And if it wasn’t for the other thieves, it was for Morgana.
But tonight, despite the numerous practices runs and dress rehearsals, he ultimately found himself failing show night. He could only count his lucky stars that his audience was empty, lest all they’d hear was the sobbing of Akechi’s name over and over.
Akechi.
The one person he failed to save. Destined to die by his own hand, one way or another.
Akechi.
Who he crossed paths with on Christmas, the snowflakes catching in his hair.
Akechi.
His only teammate in a reality that wasn’t their own.
It didn’t matter how many times he repeated to himself that Akechi was here, that he fought beside him just days ago, the realization never sunk in. After a week and a half of mourning, he was suddenly confronted with the fact that his worst failure somehow didn’t happen, and quite frankly, it was a bit much for him to handle. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the magic act to reveal itself and succumb to its fate of disappearing at the conclusion of the show.
So he gave up, resigning himself to the permeant unease of Schrodinger’s Akechi until the eventual day the two would meet at the palace again.
And that was another issue in and of itself, he thought as he made his way downstairs, condemned to another sleepless night.
Akechi was avoiding him. Ever since they departed from Maruki’s palace with the intent to return January 9th, their communication all but stopped, relegated to a single phone call the same day serving as a small update into Akechi’s investigation and an insistence that Ren ‘does what he needs to’.
Well Ren did what he needed to, and quite honestly it only made him feel worse. His friends seemed content in this new reality, not a single one breaking through the looking glass and returning back to his side. So, effectively, he was alone. Except for Akechi. Who was avoiding him. Who was also probably alive and had no real reason to be.
And rinse and repeat.
If Maruki-san really wanted him to enjoy this reality, he failed miserably.
Finally reaching the bar, he pulled out a stool and settled into it rather uncomfortably, prepared to wait out the remaining hours of nightfall until a more acceptable hour to drink coffee came to pass. This was becoming something of a routine at this point. Talk to another one of his friends that no longer wanted him in their lives, go home immediately, and eventually wake up from a nightmare to return here, staring at the clock. And for what wasn’t the first time this week, he felt hopeless. Maybe he should consider dropping by Takemi for something to take, to ease his mind so he could actually sleep before he and Akechi stormed another palace.
He hoped Akechi was faring better than him, and really, knowing him? He probably was. Akechi was…something else that way. He found himself in a weird reality and what did he do? He went and found Ren for answers. What did Ren do? Absolutely nothing as he was confronted with a cat turned human and a mom raised from the dead. Between the two of them, Ren was certain Akechi was doing far better.
In fact, if he had to place a guess, Akechi was probably as productive as he always tended to be: scouring the Internet, gathering reports, parading Mementos…
It was with embarrassment Ren realized that even now, he was likely up searching, being a better asset to their little agreement than he could ever hope to be.
Why did Akechi even bother with him?
But… pitifully, he had to admit, he couldn’t have been more relieved he did. Couldn’t have been happier he made that mess of a mistake. His presence meant everything to him now, more than Akechi would ever be able to know nor reciprocate.
And before he even processed what he was doing, his phone materialized in his palm like a curse, and he placed it on the countertop like holding it was too much to bear.
No… Akechi was busy. He shouldn’t…
His fingertips hovered in the air, aimless and unsure in whether they should press on or quiver aside. He wanted it, wanted to have any sort of true company, not the mindless chatter that everyone else seemed to offer him now.
So, was it really wrong for him to want?
With hesitant fingers he slowly tapped the numbers into his phone, numbers he memorized from the fleeting nights he called, but never received a response. Almost distantly, he could hear the other end ringing.
“Amamiya. You are aware it is one a.m., yes? And are you also aware that this is largely considered an impolite time to call?” The voice spoke coolly through his phone’s speaker, accompanied by a barely noticeable stream of keyboard clicks and the sound of rustling papers. His next words sounded mildly distorted, as if he were talking around something in his mouth. “This better be goddamn important.”
Akechi’s annoyance radiated from over the phone, and Ren was sure if he didn’t respond anytime soon, his rival would have no qualms hanging up. As much as Ren didn’t want to admit it, he probably wouldn’t have any issue blocking his number either, except for the fact that Ren appeared to be useful to him for the moment. And yet, despite knowing he should, his tongue wouldn’t form any answer, his heart instead hanging onto the faintest of noises coming from the receiver.
It wasn’t the words, or the assortment of sounds in the background that Ren was listening to. No. What caught his attention was a few soft huffs of breath, the gentle inhales turning into equally quiet exhales. Slow and smooth. Unmistakably steady and unimpeded. Unmistakably…
Alive, his mind supplied. He’s alive.
So why was he having such a hard time believing it. Why was it, that in the dead of night, the only sounds haunting his mind were those of desperate lungs breathing in their last moments of life?
As if responding to Akechi’s breathing, his body let out a breath of its own. But it shared no similarities to Akechi’s.
The typing on the other end abruptly stopped.
“Amamiya?” Akechi said cautiously, underlined with an emotion Ren couldn’t place nor had the energy to.
“Ake—” Ren choked, his voice manifesting as nothing more than a raspy whisper. “Akechi—”
The rustle of fabric crackled in his speakers, followed by the harsh skidding of a chair against wood floor.
“Where are you?” Akechi was quieter, matching the volume Ren was able to provide. But unlike Ren’s, it was firm and composed, any previous irritation that filled it now replaced by an overwhelming, and unexpected, sense of urgency.
It served to only make him sick.
His free hand grasped at his hair, pulling it, tugging it, dragging his nails across his scalp in search for any simple, grounding pain. The burner in front of him caught his eye, but as he made to reach for it, an uncontrollable shudder wracked his body, and any semblance of control he had over his unwieldy feelings was verging on immediate failure.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Amamiya, can you hear me?”
He could. He could hear him. He could feel the phone in his hand, the glass screen warm from the contact of his skin. He could imagine the way Akechi held his phone; his position likely mirrored just miles away in his own apartment. But he couldn’t speak. His teeth pierced the inside of his cheek, the slight taste of blood distracting, but barely enough to stop an emergent sob attempting to escape his lips.
He’s alive! He’s talking to you right now! This is what you wanted! Answer him!
“Joker,” Akechi continued, low, clipped, and commanding. “If it isn’t safe for you to speak, then I need you to text me. Where are you?”
“Leblanc,” Ren finally managed out, the word rattled and quick. “I’m fine! Everything is fine! I’m just—I’m just…”
Having a panic attack. Over your ‘death’.
He left the sentence unfinished, hanging in the open air, unsure of what to say, and worried he’d be unable to say anything else.
The line went quiet. The only sounds between them were the harsh gasps he was powerless to suppress as tears began to prick at his eyes.
What was he thinking? That he could just call Akechi, and everything would be alright? That hearing his voice would somehow make him feel better? Remind him that he’s not alone? That this nightmare scenario would work out?
Was Akechi even still there?
A part of him hoped he ended the call, hoped that he wasn’t here to witness him breakdown further. The sensible part of him told him to ensure that was the case, to hang up if needed. But another part, the scared part, was too afraid to check. Too afraid to confirm that he was left behind. The last part won out; his phone pressed tightly against his face in a mimicry of comfort.
…And he heard breathing. Slow and deep, but surprisingly noticeable.
Silent tears trailed down his face, small hiccups punctuating his breaths. But even so, he forced himself to match the tempo, forced his inhales and exhales to match the steady rhythm of the other. He wasn’t sure how long this lasted, how long the two of them simply breathed together, until he finally felt in control again.
“Akechi?”
“Still here.”
His voice was… gentler than it had been in Maruki’s palace. Smoother, unlike the stilted manner of the detective prince. And yet, Ren was hesitant to call it soft. It wasn’t something to sink in to or to hide away in. It was like an outstretched hand. Firm, forgiving, and supportive.
“Sorry...” Ren whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to…”
He heard a soft hum in response. Noncommittal. But also, nonjudgmental. Silence lapsed between the two of them, and Ren smiled a little at the awkwardness. What happened to the two of them? Bitter rivals to teammates born from obligation to…What do you call two people who sit with each other as one cries over the phone? He doubted Akechi would label that as “friends”.
“Are you free at the moment?” The boy over the phone said unexpectedly, causing Ren to jump a little.
“Yeah… I’m free.”
“Then let’s say we meet at the Jazz Jin in forty.” Akechi continued, his normal voice returning, nonchalant, as if the last 20 minutes never happened, as if Ren didn’t just have an embarrassing breakdown while Akechi stayed on the line, for what? Moral support? “There is something I wish to discuss with you pertaining to the events of this new reality.”
His body tensed a bit in surprise, caught off guard by the obvious subject change. But was Akechi… asking to see him? It certainly seemed that way. But why now of all times? Why would he choose to talk with him after spending almost a week avoiding him?
Confusion and awkwardness aside, he’d be fool to turn down such an offer, especially after… you know. What God was watching over him that he messed up so disastrously and still ended up with what he wanted?
“Okay.” He said softly. “I’ll be there.”
“You’re late.”
Wine-red eyes followed Ren, watching as he pulled out a chair and awkwardly settled in.
The table Akechi chose was not their usual spot by the stage, instead it was tucked away in a corner, its solitude offering a sense of privacy in an otherwise very lively setting.
“Only a little,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. And really it was only five minutes at most, but those five minutes were necessary in order to stitch himself back together, unless he wanted to risk a second breakdown in front of his rival. And he’d very much like to pass on that, thanks.
Akechi’s eyes lingered on his face a little longer, casually studying him in a way that was beginning to make the phantom thief uncomfortable, (beginning to make him feel seen), before letting out a soft hum. Apparently satisfied with whatever he saw, his gloved hand carefully slid a full glass toward him, before reaching for his bag and producing a notebook and a substantial stack of papers.
“Is this for me?” Ren asked a little belatedly, pointing at the purple drink in front of him.
“No, Amamiya.” Akechi said devoid of emotion, gracefully pulling out a pen and resting it on the table. “I bought myself two identical drinks and decided to place one in front of you for absolutely no reason at all.”
Ren chuckled. Sarcasm was something he was still getting used to with Akechi. It wasn’t a character trait of the ‘honest’ detective prince, and that made it all the more welcome in Ren’s eyes.
“Thank you.”
If Akechi heard his remark of appreciation, he certainly didn’t respond to it, making no effort to even create eye contact. Instead, his attention seemed to be on the stack of papers in front of them, thumbing through it until finally grasping a few pages and freeing them from their mountain prison.
“What do you make of this?”
Down to business already, I see.
A few papers were placed in front of him, their lettering almost unbearably small for the relatively dim lighting of the jazz club. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but his eyes picked up a few key words. Most importantly: Ren Amamiya. He bit his lip.
“Is this…a court transcript? Relating to me?”
“That’s correct.” His eyes were studying him again.
“I don’t need to see these. I was there.” He responded curtly, holding the papers out.
“Were you?”
Ren eyed him in suspicion, the papers still resting in his hand in open air as Akechi made no move to take them from him. Did he seriously think he wasn’t there for his own court hearing? Was he just messing with him? But from the look Akechi was giving him, he knew he was dead serious.
“Check the date.”
The date?
His eyes quickly scanned the top of the page, seeking the information Akechi requested before his eyes landed on it. And he had to take breath.
December 29th, 2017.
“What?” he whispered, double and triple checking the date in a half-hearted attempt to prove himself wrong.
“Just a little over a week ago, your criminal record was expunged, by the looks of it.” Ren glanced over at Akechi who was no longer looking at him, focusing instead on a different sheet of paper grasped tightly in one of his hands. In the other he held a pen, resting lightly against his chin. “Following Shido’s confession on the 20th.”
“That…doesn’t make sense,” He started. “I wasn’t at a court hearing on the 29th.”
“I figured as much.” He tapped the pen against his lips. “You rejected this reality as soon as it formed, hence, you retained the memories you had prior to the shift. If you hadn’t, well, it seems like the Ren Amamiya in this reality did indeed attend court on the 29th.”
“So that’s who they see when they look at me?”
“By ‘they’, you mean the other phantom thieves?”
He nodded mutely, dropping ‘his’ court transcript on the table in favor for his drink.
Akechi offered him only a side glance, before opening his notebook and flipping to a desired page.
“I can’t say what exactly they ‘see’ when they look at you Amamiya, but as far as I am aware, the phantom thieves still existed in this reality and performed much of the same role as they did before. But of course, your targets were different.”
Akechi slid the notebook over, giving Ren a chance to look at a list of names.
“Madarame, Sakura, and Okumura never formed a palace. Instead, you acquired three new targets, none of which I recognize as part of Shido’s little conspiracy.”
“So, who are they?”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“Hmm. And Shido’s conspiracy, it just never happened?”
Ren noticed absently that Akechi was producing more papers from his ridiculous stack, but what caught his attention more was the way his rival’s pen caught between his teeth. His mind couldn’t help but fixate on how simply…imperfect…it was. Their eyes locked again and Akechi quickly (almost too quickly) retrieved the pen out of his mouth and dropped it back into his bag. If this were any other person, Ren might have assumed they were embarrassed to be caught in such a casual act, but this was Akechi, and as such, his next words conveyed no hint of such an emotion. Instead, it was ‘back to business’, his late-night companion instead gesturing at the paper in his hand.
“Shido was arrested on account of election fraud, misallocation of funds, and bribery, among other things. But the mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks never occurred.” He let the paper fall to the table, the corners dampening from the small puddles left by their cold drinks. Akechi crossed his arms, his eyes hardening as he stared at the paper slowly being ruined in front of him. “My own confession doesn’t exist anymore either. This whole situation doesn’t make sense.”
Ren sipped languidly from his drink as he let Akechi stew in his frustration for a moment. His irritation was something he could sympathize with, even if his own situation was hardly comparable. Sure, they were both walking free, but it was clear one of them felt it was undeserved. And the other… wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“You heard what Maruki-san said in the palace.” He said after a few beats of silence. “He made a place for both of us in this 'perfect reality'."
“Like he even knows what a perfect reality is.” Akechi scoffed, his eyes never leaving the half-soaked paper in front of him.
“Well,” Ren mused, leaning back in his chair, his cup pressed to his lips. “I would hope it doesn’t include killing people?”
“Nervous I’m going to shoot you in the head again?“
Ren almost spat out his drink.
“Yikes. You shot me in the head? Couldn’t you have shot anywhere else?
“Are you stupid? It was to be framed as a suicide, Amamiya,” he said, taking a sip from his own glass as if they just concluded talking about the weather. “Of course, it had to be the head.”
“Ouch, Akechi. Your words,” He grasped his chest in mock pain, forcing a fake sadness to tinge his voice. “It’s as if…” He sniffled. “…you shot my heart.”
It was Akechi’s turn to fight back a spit take, an exasperated, but decidedly amused sigh passing over his lips. Ren had to fight back a smile from the sound.
“It’s been what? A month? A month and a half? Isn’t it too soon to be joking about such things?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I was the one who died though, so I get to joke about it whenever I please.”
“Yes, but joking about it with the person who killed you?”
Ren watched as one of the older boy’s fingers traced the rim of his cup in what he supposed could be a nonchalant manner, but the slight clenching of his jaw seemed to contradict this image. If he focused hard enough, he thought there were times the finger slipped from the rim, its cyclic pattern off-beat, but more likely it had to be a combination of the dim lighting and his own overactive (and perhaps, desperate) imagination.
“Water under the bridge, Akechi.” And against his better judgment, he meant it, sincerely.
“Wonderful. Comforting to know your survival instinct hasn’t changed since I’ve been gone.”
“Good news is that it doesn’t have to. Since you aren’t planning on killing me again, I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“Oh? And where did I say that?” Akechi smirked.
“If you really wanted to kill me, you would have already. I’ve seen the way you’ve been letting loose in the metaverse.” Ren responded with a casual smirk of his own, using one hand to push up his glasses. “It’s very impressive by the way. Makes me happy that you’re on my side.”
“Oh, please.” Akechi replied, refusing to make eye contact.
“Awww, is the good detective flustered?” he laughed, earning himself a quick whack over the head with a handful of papers.
“Focus, Amamiya.”
Holy shit. Wait…Was he actually—
In the months he’s know his rival, he could only think of one other time embarrassment was even within range of his emotions. So why now? Was it seriously because of some offhand compliment?
“Now before you so rudely derailed me, as I was saying, this doesn’t make sense.”
… But regardless of the odd display, Akechi was right. Something wasn’t adding up.
“You mean: why have the phantom thieves change hearts when Maruki-san could have just done it himself?”
“Exactly. Furthermore, how was it that Maruki-san, a school therapist, stumbled upon the powers of a god?”
Any awkwardness that was previously present seemed to vanish in thin air. Instead, Akechi stared at him expectantly, as if he was somehow confident that Ren would know the answer, that he would be able to crack this case wide open. It was certainly flattering that Akechi apparently felt so highly of him, that of all people, he was the person Akechi trusted with for an answer. And so, it’s with shame in his heart that all could muster was a soft:
“I don’t know.”
Akechi hummed at that, his attention leaving Ren and returning to his drink.
“Sorry… wish I could have been more help.”
“Please Amamiya, it’s not like I know either,” he said, frustration evident in his voice. “It seems we’re both lost in this hell.”
But at least we’re lost together.
It was such a funny thought that popped into his head. Lost? With Akechi? A sane person would deem either of those clauses as undesirable at best, but put together? Lost. With the person who tried (and essentially succeeded) in killing him. And yet, he was fine with it. Content, even. That if he was going to be lost in a reality even more beyond his control than usual, then at least he had Akechi. And for some reason, he hoped Akechi felt the same way about him.
As their conversation lulled, Ren watched as his companion propped up his head on one of his hands, his eyes slipping close as fingers tapped lightly on the table, keeping time with the soft jazz music that enveloped the silence between them.
It’s been a while since he’s seen Akechi like this. And even so, the times before were so brief, he hardly had a moment to enjoy experience it. Quiet vulnerability was rare between them. Before January, they were accidents rather than purposeful and shared comforts. Slips in Akechi’s defense, and cracks in his own. It was the quiet nights at Leblanc or the competition between darts that the truths between them made themselves known. It was a wonder how their friendship mutual respect formed in the first place when both of them knew that their trust could only build so far before they collapsed in on each other.
And some days he wished they did. Maybe things would have ended up differently. Or maybe he was already two years too late. But he thanked whatever god was watching above that, right now, he was right on time.
He really missed this.
His eyes closed with Akechi’s, the soft tones around him a quiet relief amid their shared fate. If his hand strayed closer to the other’s, no one was around to say anything.
“Amamiya.” Akechi eventually spoke, his voice quieter than before.
“Yeah?” He said, opening his eyes to meet Akechi’s. But gray never met wine-red. And unease gripped his chest.
“What happened after the wall closed between us?”
And Ren almost screamed.
He knew what was about to happen, what Akechi was asking of him. Long gone were the quiet comforts they were sharing, quickly replaced by the rushing pulse in his ears and trembling fingers hidden from view.
Please. Not now.
He already lived through it once tonight, did he really have to do it again? Did he have to hear the rasped breathing, feel the door beneath his fingertips, have grief and guilt overtake his heart? Could he even handle it? Was this something he had to share?
Of course, he knew the answer. Though he selfishly wished it was a call he could refuse.
“We heard a…gunshot.” He carefully started, his fingers threading each other beneath the table as averted his eyes. The other boy must have noticed, as the gentle tapping of his fingers abruptly stopped. “And afterward, Futaba said she lost your reading.”
Akechi shifted softly beside him. A quiet exhale was his only response. Risking a side glance told him that Akechi was finding the table as a subject of increasing fascination. That really wasn’t unexpected. But what was unexpected was the uncurled hand resting closer to him than before. He almost made a reach for it. He wished he did.
He pinched himself.
“And you sent a calling card to Shido, I presume,” came a soft voice after a few beats.
“Yes. We did.”
The chair creaked and Ren could feel Akechi’s eyes on him now. But he was afraid to look. Afraid that if he turned, the seat next to him would be empty, and the moments they shared together was but another fabric of a quilted reality meant to make him feel safe.
“In our original reality, were you successful in changing his heart.”
“We were."
“Hmm.”
And that was it, wasn’t it? He kept his promise to Akechi. Fulfilled, what was at the time, his dying request. That was all there was to say. It was over. Quick. Less painful than expected. Hopefully like Akechi’s death. Nothing else had to be done and Akechi wasn’t asking for anything more. And yet, why was he compelled to continue. Why was there a knife at this throat, as if it were there to carve the words out of his body by force?
“If the others weren’t there,” He said before he could stop himself.” I might have killed him.”
Ren turned to face him now, their eyes finally meeting again for what felt like forever. But Akechi was inscrutable, his expression blank and lacking the disgust Ren feared he’d see. Instead, he just stared, his mouth slightly working as Ren earnestly subjected himself to the terrifying and freeing notion of being known.
“It’s for the best you didn’t.” Akechi began cautiously. “You couldn’t handle the blood on your hands. Even the blood of a man who personally victimized you.”
“I wouldn’t have done it for me.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Now would be his cue to stop talking. To backtrack. To return to the soft silence they were sharing before. He was upsetting Akechi. Akechi. The one person he had been so desperate to see. The only person he had left. But the knife continued to cut deeper. And he let it. And he needed it.
“You didn’t hear the things he said about you…. I would have killed him, and I wouldn’t have regretted it.”
“I’m not some person to defend,” the detective replied, his hands curling into fists, his body tensing with his words.
“He knew Akechi—"
“Amamiya—”
“He knew you were his son.”
For a moment, nothing happened, the words just hanging in the open air amid them, carried aloft by the unheard notes of jazz and the smell of wine. And yet, the words broke something between them, their effects unnoticeable and yet all too apparent at the same time. Akechi wouldn’t look at him anymore, his hands clenching the drink before him all too tightly.
Ren wished those hands were at his throat instead.
“He hurt you—“
“You think I don’t know that?” the boy next to him hissed through gritted teeth, an animalistic fury burning behind his eyes. “Why did you come here? To state the obvious. To rub salt in an open wound? Tch. Waste of my time.”
“Akechi—"
“I’m not here to chat with you. I’m not some rack you can air your dirty laundry on for whatever goddamn fucked up thoughts you had just because you, what? Think I’d like it?” He said incredulously, his hands collecting all the loose papers that lay forgotten earlier, placing them hastily into his bag before moving to stand. “I did not ask you here to be demeaned and relegated to being ‘Shido’s son’.”
“No! That’s not what I meant—”
Ren stood up too quickly, effectively bumping into the table in the process. Their glasses tipping over, clinking together as their contents spilled across the wooden surface.
“Shit!” He cursed, face turning red as he dumped the silverware from their cloth wrapping, using the napkins to soak up as much of the liquid as he could before it dripped on floor. No doubt, after an outburst and an accident like that, the entire jazz club was staring at them. Ren bit his cheek, tasting blood, as Akechi walked away.
And for the second time tonight he had to ask:
What the hell was wrong with him?
This was the night he dreamt about for weeks, craving with his soul and bartering with his mind. One more night, he always thought. One more night and maybe I could have saved him, could have changed fate. I just need one more night to spend with him again, to curb the unnecessary mourning and stave off the loneliness. Well, he was given one more night. And he ruined it.
Because for Akechi, he was always too late and never enough.
He was so absorbed in his own self-hate that he failed to notice Akechi returning until a pile of napkins was unceremoniously dumped in front of him.
“Here.” Akechi said, selecting a few napkins from the newfound collection and joining Ren in his efforts to mop up the sorry state of their drinks. “You’re a mess.”
“Yeah.” The word coming out more choked than he intended. It was taking everything in him to not cry, to not embarrass himself or Akechi further tonight.
Akechi raised an eyebrow at that, pausing briefly in their shared chore to sigh. His eyes thinned, his mouth opening as if to say something else, before being interrupted by an approaching figure.
“Is everything okay over here?” came the kind and concerned voice of the club owner. Ren couldn’t meet his eyes, letting his hair fall as a shield as he absently continued to scrub at the table with shaking hands.
“We’re quite fine, thank you Muhen-san. Sorry for the trouble,” Akechi’s lilted voice took over, as if by instinct.
“It’s no trouble at all, Akechi-kun! Let me get someone over here to clean this up while I help you switch tables.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. A little mess doesn’t bother me. Wouldn’t you agree, Amamiya-kun?” He said, his voice gently emphasizing the word.
“No, it, uhhh, it doesn’t bother me at all.”
“Well, that settles it, doesn’t it?” Akechi continued before turning back to Muhen. “If it isn’t too much to ask, could we have a few fresh drinks?”
“Sure thing. Coming right up.”
Akechi bowed his head as the owner ambled away, quietly taking the soiled napkins with his gloved hands and setting them off to the side. As soon as Muhen was out of sight, his soft expression melted into something more neutral, underlined with evidence of exhaustion.
And somehow that made Ren feel worse.
“I’m sorry…” Ren started lamely after they both sat back down “About the—”
“—It’s better that he didn’t die by your hand, Amamiya. A life is a heavy burden to carry.” He slowly dragged a hand down his face as he turned toward him. “And it is not a burden to carry for someone else. That is all I wish to say on the matter.”
And true to his word, that was all that was said as the quiet and drinks returned, followed by the notes of familiar a song and the welcome feeling of companionship.
It was 10:00 in the morning when the bell above Leblanc’s door chimed, its ringing an uncomfortable reminder that Ren must have forgotten to switch the sign to ‘closed’ before settling down for his routine cup of coffee. Placing his mug on the counter, he turned his attention to the door, preparing to ask the unexpected visitor to leave until his eyes caught the person in question.
Akechi stood in the entrance, carefully shedding his coat, his feet briefly raising off the floor as the leaned over to place the garment on its rightful hook. His posture was perfect, as usual, but there was slight impreciseness to his movements, something that Ren was sure wasn’t there the night before.
As he studied Akechi, Ren could see that his hair was dusted with a light layer of white, and he could only stare as Akechi ran his fingers through his hair, his head slightly shaking in an effort to brush away the snowflakes. After placing a few stray strands back to their rightful place, he turned to him, eyes filling with mild interest. Ren shyly ducked his head and offered a small wave in response.
“Didn’t sleep well, I assume?” Akechi said, an uncharacteristic lightness slipping into his voice.
“What gave it away? The three empty cups in front of me or the bags under my eyes?”
Akechi stared from him to the cups with amusement, a small smirk playing across his face as he made his way to the bar, the slight tapping of his heels echoing in the empty shop, as he pulled out the chair next to Ren and gracefully settled in.
Ren’s heart skipped a beat. Though admittedly, he had no reason as to why.
“Well, we were up rather late last night,” the detective said, placing his bag down in the empty seat beside him. “Could I bother you for a cup?”
“Way ahead of you.” He replied easily, ignoring the sudden increase of his heart rate and reaching over the counter to produce a traveling container. “I made your usual.”
“You knew I was coming?” Akechi said, taking the warm cup from his outstretched hand.
“Nope. Just wanted to surprise you when we met in Odaiba, but this works too.”
“Hmm. I suppose I should thank you.”
“And I suppose you’re welcome, “Ren laughed, watching as his newfound companion took a sip from his coffee, his shoulders slightly dipping.
Last night, they parted ways on amicable terms, their argument almost all but forgotten as the time seemed to slip out of their hands. It was nice, Ren was all to ready to admit, that even despite a few hiccups and embarrassments on his part, that Akechi still stuck around. He got lucky, to put things lightly. And while he thanked whatever god above that gave him such luck, he still couldn’t help but hold out hope for something more. Something like… Akechi accompanying him home.
It was a…. thought. Yes, it was certainly a thought. But it was a thought he really shouldn’t dare himself to have. Was it not a few months ago that this person beside him held a gun to his head? Was it not even a month ago that they fought, bloodlust held deep within one pair of eyes?
Yet, these questions mattered little to him. He and Akechi had a complicated history, that much was obvious. But much less so were the complicated feelings involved. Complicated feelings that, in Ren’s opinion, really shouldn’t be so complicated.
He liked Akechi. God forbid it, but he did. He found his company enjoyable, found their talks engaging, their games riveting. Poor survival instincts aside, Ren was drawn to him like a moth was drawn to a flame, ready to succumb to the fire for the desperation of heat.
He found himself wanting Akechi in his life. He found himself memorizing Akechi’s order, found himself hovering around their texts as if willing a response, found himself laying awake at night thinking of him, wondering what he was doing and if he was doing okay.
Despite his own willingness to invite Akechi into his life, it wasn’t his choice to make. Akechi had already drawn the line himself.
They weren’t friends. Just teammates, coconspirators in another takedown of a god, their proximity one of necessity rather than one of appetency. Nothing more.
Yet, seeing Akechi here now, hair tucked behind one of his ears, cradling his cup between two hands, the morning light dancing over the top of his head, Ren couldn’t help but stare in awe. For if he couldn’t fulfill his wish of spending a night with Akechi, he was truly lucky to be gifted with such a wonderful morning.
“Something you need?” Ren said, taking a sip from his own cup.
“What do you mean?” Akechi said coolly, pausing to turn to him.
“Well, you came all this way when I thought we were meeting at the palace entrance?” He questioned, studying Akechi for any sort of clue, his eyes already glancing down to the bag by his side. “Did you have something to show me or…?”
Akechi paused at this, eying Ren with a rare moment of hesitancy, as fingers gently tapped the cup in his hands. He opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it, his jaw slightly working in the process.
“Am I not allowed to stop by for a cup of coffee?” He eventually said with a tinge of arrogancy.
“Of course, you can!” He replied maybe a bit too enthusiastically as coffee sloshed over the side of his cup. “You’re always welcome here, Akechi, you know that?”
Akechi hummed slightly, leaning back in his chair as he turned his attention to Leblanc’s window, appearing to watch the passersby that tiptoed around the snow collecting on the ground. The tips of his ears were an unmistakable shade of light pink.
A smile forced its way onto his lips as the warmth from his coffee seeped into his skin.
Akechi. Flustered. What a sight.
Though Ren was sure he was something similar to behold, judging by the heat coming from his cheeks. But he’d chalk it up to the steam of the coffee, for both of their sakes.
Coffee: that was all Akechi came for. Small pleasantries and coffee in an idyllic morning, one fit for two friends, but suitable enough for two rivals.
And yet, despite the comfort he took in Akechi’s presence, he couldn’t ignore the nagging emptiness around him. Mona, who would usually be pouting at the counter for his food. Ryuji, who would be sitting next to him, noisily slurping his soda. Haru, who would be animatedly talking about how her plants were doing to an absolutely enthralled Makoto. Yusuke and Ann, who would be discussing the latest designs in fashion as Futaba sat opposite in the booth of them, her hands flying across her keyboard. And Sumire…who Ren left behind in the palace.
It was something he was still ashamed of. To leave behind a teammate? To do so again? He couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t dare allow himself to even consider it. But here he was sitting with Akechi, a member missing from their trio.
If only I was better. If only I was faster. If only I spoke up more, tried harder to reassure her, maybe…
But these ‘if’s could only get him so far. He failed her, the seat next to him empty by his own doing. He failed all of them.
“Umm Akechi?”
“Hmm?” The detective turned away from the window, a piece of hair still caught behind his ear.
Ren fiddled with his glasses underneath the intense gaze. Seriously, what was with him?
“The other thieves…aren’t coming.”
“No matter.” Akechi said without missing a beat as though he already knew what Ren had to say, his expression never changing as he returned to staring out the window. “The two of us will be enough. There was never a guarantee that they’d be able to break out of this reality on their own in the first place. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
How Akechi could read him so accurately was beyond him. How he could say something so bluntly and, dare he say, kindly, at the same time was also beyond him. But regardless of the words being beyond him, they still caused a mild case of arrythmia that Ren really should get checked out.
The lack of anger, and more importantly the lack of judgement, was almost too much for Ren. He expected at least some sort of retort over his failure, some scolding that he wasted his week moping around. Was it too much to ask for some negative feedback?
“You’re thinking again.” Akechi didn’t even glance toward him.
“As if I don’t think often.” He quipped back, but it fell flat, hidden emotion seeping through its cracks. The other boy shifted, sighing softly as turned toward him in the barstool.
“Last night, you asked me what the other phantom thieves ‘see’ when they look you.” He looked at Ren evenly, his voice neutral. But this neutrality was betrayed by the slight tapping of his fingers on the counter. Annoyance maybe? A sort of uncomfortableness?
Ren rubbed the back of his neck, feeling all sorts of uncomfortable himself.
He remembered that?
“So, rough week, I assume?” Akechi continued after a beat, if a bit awkwardly.
“You could say that,” Ren said, the awkwardness growing by the minute as he decided his coffee was a much more interesting subject. He was willing to leave it at that, and thankfully Akechi didn’t try to push him despite the continuous gaze he felt at his side.
“I’m not going to pretend to understand,” Akechi eventually started, his voice firm but words hesitant. “But if I do know one thing, Amamiya, it’s that your friends care about you.”
“You think so?” Ren said softly, his eyes never leaving his cup, the cream swirling within the black liquid.
“You don’t?”
His gut instinct was a simple: no. He had seen enough over this past week to warrant it, felt enough of the aching loneliness to feel that his ‘no’ had to be true. They left him behind, went off to enjoy a new reality where every issue they had ever previously come to him with had seemingly disappeared. Any resolution Ren was able to provide, vanished. Any hope or determination they renewed together, gone. And with it, his place in their lives was left unaccounted for.
But that wasn’t fair, was it? To claim that his friends weren’t good enough to him, to be so selfish in what he asks. He wasn’t their first priority; they weren’t there to bend over backward to convey their friendship to him, to boost his ego when his self-doubt began to take root. His friends trusted him still. They were still kind to him. They still knew his name. Wasn’t that proof enough?
And yet, after everything they’ve been through, Ren was ashamed to admit all he could think was: No, it wasn’t.
“I don’t know.” He admitted after a while, biting his lip as he dared a glance at Akechi. But Akechi wasn’t staring at him anymore, instead his gaze was focused over the counter, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers continuing their soft drum against the table.
“I’m not sure what you saw this past week,” Akechi said, his eyes never meeting him. “But whatever it was, just know your friends are not themselves.”
“They seem so happy.” Ren said, the cup of coffee growing cold in his grasps. “I just don’t know—”
“--If we are doing the right thing?” Akechi finished dully. “Is that what this is all about.”
Ren nodded mutely.
“Listen closely to me, Amamiya.” Akechi suddenly turned to him, eyes boring into his own. “Your friends are trapped in a wish they never asked to make and never expected to be answered. Their autonomy stripped from them under a guise that it’s happiness. How is any of that ‘right’? How is any of it different from the god you defeated before? Don’t let Maruki-san fool you, this isn’t happiness.”
A stunned silence followed as Ren grappled with what to say, watching with idle worry as the breath of the boy next to him rattled with barely noticeable shakiness. Akechi turned away from him, his hair concealing most of his expression except for the thin line of his mouth and the furrow of his brow.
He’s scared, Ren thought, already translating the anger into fear. This wasn’t just about the other thieves anymore. It was about Akechi. It was about the two of them.
He’s scared of it staying like this. He’s scared of me saying no.
“We’ll destroy this false reality, Akechi,” he said firmly, placing a hand on Akechi’s shoulder.
He turned to him then, eyes going wide momentarily as he registered the touch before stiffening underneath it. Their eyes met, and any hesitancy or anger held within them vanished, before their eye contact broke and his attention returned to his paper traveling cup.
Ren’s hand remained on his shoulder. Akechi made no move to remove it.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, their single point of contact a tether between them, keeping them together as each braved their own sea of trepidation, their unwieldy emotions too hard to speak but easy enough to feel.
“We’re a sad sort of people, aren’t we Amamiya?” Akechi whispered; his voice expressionless. “Never believing that anyone could care about us, despite the evidence otherwise.”
“Akechi…” Ren started before fully knowing what he was going to say. “Are you…Are you okay?”
Akechi snorted next to him, hair lifting up from the bridge of his nose in the process. He leaned back in his chair, angling his body toward him once again.
“I will be once we take out Maruki-san.”
“Right.” Ren said wryly. “Just have to kill a god.”
“Well, you killed a god once. Where’s the issue in doing twice?” Akechi huffed a small laugh, the glint in his eyes returning.
There was that look again, one that always caught him off-guard but always left him feeling excited and captivated. It was a look reserved for him and him alone, one that only recently has been shared, one that came easily and filled his features so openly. There was a trust there, something that he was still getting used to seeing with Akechi, something that felt so genuine and potent, his only wish was to be consumed by it.
Even though he wasn’t sure if he was worthy of it.
“Akechi? Can I be honest with you again?”
“I’d say ‘I hope you always are’, but that would be hypocritical coming from me, wouldn’t it?” Akechi said dryly. “By all means, continue.”
Ren steadied himself, a slight fear resting on his tongue as if his next words were poison. A poison in which he created and was to swallow himself. An admission of which had to be spoken but had no intention of wanting to be. He breathed, allowing his words to rush out as quickly as possible.
“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I have no clue how I did it the first time and I definitely have no idea how to do it again.”
Akechi took an unnecessarily long sip from his cup, set it down gently, before turning his body to face him, arms crossed, a neutral expression on his face. Ren prepared himself, waiting for some sort of scorn or possibly Akechi calling off his deal entirely before Akechi responded in an equally neutral tone.
“I know.”
“You…know…”
“You are aware I’m not one of your gaggle of thieves, yes?” A smirk played across his face, and despite its mischievous nature, no hint of mockery was evident. “I’m not a fool, Amamiya. You've been flying by seat of your pants this entire time.”
“How could you…“
“Tell?” Akechi finished smugly. “In much the same way you saw through the “detective prince”, I assume. Unless there was a time you actually believed my little act, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’re smarter than that.”
“And you don’t care?” Ren practically breathed, both hands grabbing the seat of his chair as he inadvertently leaned forward.
“Why should I?”
“Because you’re counting on me to kill god a second time?”
“Amamiya. There has not been a single moment in my life where I’ve had the ability to see more than a few days into the future. I’ve not once had full confidence in my actions, and nor have I ever ‘known what I’m doing’. So, if it was somehow not inherently obvious by the path I have condemned myself to: I am no better. You may be lost, but there is no person I trust more to be lost with.
“That is the trust I place in you. I only expect your willingness to cooperate as part of our deal, nothing more. Any difficulties we may encounter is faced as a partnership. That is what we agreed to.”
Silence gathered between them as Ren could only stare, heart thumping in his chest, relief bubbling to the surface as the words began to sink in. It was a weight off of his shoulders, to be acknowledged once more, to be seen and shown…
Acceptance.
Trust and acceptances were the gifts Akechi bore, open and freely given despite the knowledge and circumstances surrounding them. Gifts he never expected to be handed, and all too blessed to receive.
“Thank you.” He said softly.
Akechi rolled his eyes, moving to stand.
“Now, if you’re down moping,” he drawled, a dangerous smirk filling his features. “We’ve got a palace to burn.”
Ren mirrored him, pushing his chair in and placing his cup behind the counter, switching his apron for a jacket as Akechi pulled on his.
Their hands met on the door handle, the leather soft against his still bare skin. For a moment neither pulled away.
“I’m glad you’re alive, Akechi.”
“As if I could be dead,” he replied, daunting and teasing.
But the emotion never quite reached his eyes.