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The sunset is beautiful, bright and enlightening everyone, everything, glowing until the moon will take its turn.
That's what Akira thinks — as he stays in the shadows — it's not like he's really watching the sunset right now. Instead he's in the subway, holding his suitcase on his lap, looking at one pervert trying to take a picture below the skirt of a high schooler.
This world is truly rotten, filled with such people and wasting their breath and energy to be such a waste of flesh. Akira is disgusted, his gaze more intense over the man who looks back before he immediately retreats before he could even unlock his phone.
Pitiful and revolting. A pervert and a coward. Why is he even existing? It just makes Akira want to get into Mementos and find his shadow. He would grab his collar, threathen and torture him for every obscene picture he took until he'll beg for death. Akira will instead let the chaos burn him alive until he takes his life by himself. Oh, that would be indeed so beautiful —
"Mon cher ." Arsène's voice stops him in his thoughts. Akira tsks, getting up and going outside the subway. He needs some fresh air, no matter if it wasn't the station he meant to stop at.
Akira slouches his back, trying to seem discreet in the crowd. He doesn't want anyone to recognize him. He's not in the mood for this sick attention. Humans are usually focused on themselves anyway, they wouldn't even throw a glance at him except if he is interesting for their personal benefits.
It's repugnant. It makes him want to throw up.
He wants this world to burn already, no one deserves free will. Not even him deserved it. He's trembling in rage, he's so done with all the criticism he's bearing everyday just because he's not agreeing to their little pitiful opinion and little cells they got inside willingly.
Akira is also in a golden cage and he wants everyone else to join this prison. He hates those free spirits, thinking they can do whatever they want without any consequences, he's so done with—
"Kurusu-kun." That voice… He recognizes it. It belongs to the most frustrating person he had met.
He turns around, facing him. Akechi Goro in his splendor, a foot on the floor for balance, comfortable and relaxed on the motorcycle he "borrowed" from Muhen. His helmet is in his gloved hands, hair tied messily and that absolute fucking mocking smirk on his face.
Akira wants to punch him.
Instead he smiles pleasantly. "I see you're being a thief once again, to your caretaker nonetheless."
"It's not thievery if I bring it back without damage to their proprietor after." He shrugs, not bothering to think about the consequences of his acts.
Akira gets closer, noticing that black leather jacket on his shoulders, fitting while riding a motorcycle. Akira refuses to accept it's fitting Akechi of course.
"I could report you."
"Oh please, Kurusu, for such a little thing? Don't you have better things to do than losing your time like that?" He hates this sarcastic arrogant tone of his. Akira wishes he could just choke him, cut his tongue or gag him, not allowed to talk until Akira's permission.
Akira immediately looks down, ashamed of his own thoughts, why is that thought arousing? He could just put his tie in Akechi's mouth, threatening him to dare to pronounce a word as he opens that jacket of his, appreciating the view before he finally gives him the ride that really worth—
Oh my god he definitely went even more insane. Thinking about riding Akechi's cock? That arrogant brat always disrespectful and ruining his plans? What's wrong with him?
He wishes to end his life, to see pain on his face instead of this insolence, to see him beg for his mercy and realize Akira lost it years ago.
He wants to kill him. He wants to kill everyone, so everyone ends up being the shadow of themselves, to see their will taken until they finally crumble to despair as he had lived through.
He grits his teeth. Something is definitely wrong with him. Of course Shido didn't help his current mood but it just kept accumulating and accumulating and he's at the edge of bursting.
"Catch." He blinks, suddenly pulls out of his thoughts and reaches his arms to grab the helmet Akechi just threw. He looks at it puzzled, noticing his own reflection on the black plastic.
He raises his head, frowning. "Why did you give this to me?"
"Get your attention," he replies without any shame. "You seemed a little lost in your mind, princess. No one told you to not… What was the expression again…" He tilts his head, his ponytail wiggling at his gestures. " Broyer du noir? "
Fucking using french against him. He wants to already pull the trigger and see blood spilling over that bastard.
"Sorry if I pronounced it bad." He doesn't sound apologetic at all. "Though, it is fun to learn French expressions. It seems you're fond of it." More like he learned it by chance with Arsène talking to him.
"Do you even know what this means?" He deadpans, exasperated by how careless Akechi can be.
"Of course I do." Akira stares, expecting his response then. "... Something about grinding black."
"My fucking god." Akira doesn't hold back his words or his control but it seems he has none for today anyway. "Stop trying to learn French to end up just translating it directly without trying to figure out what you're saying."
"Oh fuck you just swore." Akechi laughs, leaning on the handlebar, turning it so it's facing Akira. "So what does it mean, sensei?" He's smirking even after this. Akira wonders if he'll catch it if he throws the helmet at his face directly.
"Moping," he answers without giving further explanation. Akechi isn't reacting, simply humming. Akira frowns, why did he even ask if he's so disinterested?
…Oh he's definitely going to throw this helmet at his face. "You knew."
"Of course, I did. Who did you take me for, princess? I won't be negligent over something as simple as language, I need to communicate with you." Akira wonders if he'll understand any French insults he could spit at his face.
Inhale. Exhale. Ignore how that idiot who is making a fool of himself. Put on the mask, it'll be fine.
Sadly he can't find the strength to put on the mask correctly.
"...Well I can only be encouraging you to continue then, languages are cultural treasures." He puts on the best kind smile he can, dropping his arms despite how tense he is. "I'l grateful that you're making the efforts to understand what I may say."
Akechi straightens up, frowning. He raises his hand, curving his finger to gesture at him to approach.
Akira should question why he's obeying without even resisting. He gasps as Akechi's hand grabs his chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
"I don't give a fuck about languages, the real treasure here is you." It's not sarcastic, arrogant, or mischievous. His tone is deep, ravishing Akira's ears in a way it shouldn't and making Akira shiver slightly.
He could forget the world doomed around them like that. It's just Akechi's touch, Akechi's voice and the serious tone he uses. It's not usual flirting, it's a declaration.
Akechi isn't grinning or smirking at all and Akira doesn't know how to react. How to pull the trigger when he stares at him like he can read his entire mind and future, as if he has him in his hands, could kill him so easily but just hold him gently?
"I knew it. You were already trembling when you got out of the subway, teeth gritting. You know it can harm them if you do it too much." Akira can't move away even when his gloved thumb touches his lips. "Heavy eyebags, red too… Tense body and jaw clenching…"
He finds the strength to take a step back from Akechi, finally able to breathe in. What was that? He narrows his eyes, holding on the helmet and his suitcase tighter. "No one taught you what personal space is?"
"No one taught you to take care of yourself?," he retorts with the same intent, eyebrows frowning and gaze intense. Too intense.
Akira looks away. "How does this concern you, Akechi-san? My personal matters aren't yours," he hisses between his teeth. He hates to feel so exposed like that. Despite his position and role, he never loved too much attention, it's overwhelming and disturbing him. But Akechi is more than overwhelming.
Just one glance is enough to make Akira feel bare in front of him.
"...Sure it isn't, but I'm allowed to be concerned." Concern? Concern! What a joke. No one cares about Akira, no one truly sees him, no one wants to know, no one gave him a chance, everyone had put him in the role they wanted and he had to play it no matter what to survive and he's so done with it he just wants it to die, he just…
But Akechi acts as if he knows. As if it's fine. As if he's not disgusting and fucked up inside, as if he was okay for who he was.
Akira wants to punch him. But instead he pushes the helmet on Akechi's stomach and is ready to leave but Goro grabs his hand and puts the helmet back in his hand. They stare at each other silently.
Is the world already burning, crumbling on itself? Is it how it ends? It doesn't seem as bad as he thought.
"Put it on."
Akira blinks. Did he mishear? Akechi didn't ask him to wear that helmet, did he? "I'm sorry?"
"I said…" Akechi gets off the motorcycle, grabbing the helmet. He stands in front of Akira, eyes narrow. "...put it on."
Akira glances at the helmet, frowning. "...Why?"
He doesn't get him. He's too exhausted for Akechi's jokes and amusement today. He's done with everything today.
"I have something to show you. And it could be fun." Goro shrugs. "A ride helps to clear your mind sometimes."
Is it a hidden pity he's hearing? He frowns, taking a step back. "I don't need your help."
"It's not help." Akechi answers calmly. He still offers him the helmet, never retracting. "I just offer you a ride. I promise you it's a nice place to see, princess. And honestly…" He holds Akira's wrist, raising his arm and holding the suitcase, still in Akira's hand, expecting him to let go. "It's not like you'll be losing time or I'm messing up your schedule with this proposition am I?"
Akira always has something to do and Akechi always bothers him. But it's important he keeps a certain bond with the thieves' leader, no matter how arrogant and desagreable he is.
He should accept. But does he want to?
No. No he doesn't. He would like to be left alone, to kill something in the Metaverse, to see how this world is disgusting, to insult everyone who thinks they're better than him, to torture his parents, to kill Shido, to…
To rest. He would love to rest in peace.
"It won't hurt you, Kurusu-kun. Just one ride, one and I'll drop you wherever you want and let you take a break." And of course Akechi sees he's not willing, he notices Akira doesn't want to.
And of course he still insists as he always does.
Akira lets go of his suitcase, held by Akechi, and stares at the helmet. A ride. This is pitiful, and he knows it's Akechi offering his help after he called him out to not be fine.
Akira doesn't know what's alright anyway. He never wakes up as if he had slept, never breathes in without this pressure over his whole existence, never lives without forgetting this world is hell itself and deserves to be destroyed.
A ride. In hell.
"Except if you're scared of motorcycles, of course." Akira raises his head. Akechi is sitting on the side of the bike, legs crossed. He's smirking. "I mean it can be loud and fast, zigzagging around all the vehicles. I wouldn't be blaming you, darling. It's fine to be afraid you know. I wouldn't want to cause you more stress."
"Excuse me?!" Akira takes a step forward, stomping his foot. "Me? Afraid of your ridiculous stolen two-wheeler?"
"You just seem to be hesitant. Just saying you shouldn't feel forced." He shrugs. That bastard dares to shrug after provoking him without even blinking twice.
Akira wants to choke him already. He wants to stab him, to pierce his heart, to break his bones and fucking shows him who's in control.
Instead, Akechi takes the helmet, pulling on Akira's hands to bring him closer and quickly puts it over his head, lifting the visor. "It's fitting you." He adjusts the strap then buckles it under his chin. "So? You can still take it off—"
Akira tsks, spanning on the back seat behind Akechi, putting his suitcase in front of him. "Stop spouting nonsense, Akechi."
Akechi only chuckles in response, turning around and sitting correctly. He adjusts his gloves.
Akira blinks, the helmet is quite tight around his head but it would certainly protect him for any accident but Akechi…
"What about you?" He can't stop his own mouth, as if there's any part of him that is really worried over this frustrating senior — to his demise — who shrugs, so careless over his own security as he looks above his shoulder.
"... I don't have any other and a princess should be more protected than the knight, right?" He's smirking. "No need to be concerned."
Akira's right eye twitches as he gives him a slight headbutt on his back, earning a laugh from Akechi. He's not concerned. What is he even imagining?! He's just… it should be Akira taking his life, not some random road accident. After everything Akechi got him through, Akira deserves to be the one to end his life.
"I'm not concerned about anything but you being so careless about your security and laws for using such a vehicle." Akira responds calmly, swallowing down the poison ready to be spit.
"Look who's talking." Akechi chuckles, taking Akira's arms, putting them around himself. "You can scold me about being careless when I'll see you actually care for yourself." He lowers down the visor on Akira's face and smiles. "I guess you can prove it now by holding tight. We'll be going fast."
"Do you know the definition of limitations?" Akira retorts, refusing to actually grips on Akechi. He's already way too close to him, he can feel his warmth through his gloves, he can feel how strong he is under his touch, he notices all the details, the little freckles over his cheeks, the way his nose wrinkles as he manipulates the engine they're on.
He can't get closer. It's too dangerous, tempting him like a devil offering him a deal that sounds too good to be true.
Akechi has Loki, a trickster god and Akira knows he can't let himself be tricked so easily.
"Even if I know them…" Akira yelps when he hears the motor turning on. It's loud even with the helmet. "I'm not known to actually respect the rules."
Akira would roll his eyes at that typical delinquent behavior, how cocky he is over something as cliche as this. He would retort how his sentence sounds like something overused in movies, or how he actually looks ridiculous like that, and maybe should think that wearing a leather jacket and being insolent over a two-wheeler doesn't actually make him seem that confident.
He would if he could. But Akira is too frightened when Akechi just moves slightly, using his feet to push the vehicle off the sidewalk.
He would give Akechi another headbutt at his laugh or push his hand away when he puts it over his for some seconds.
"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe princess." Akira hates to feel his own arms tightening around Akechi. He hates to feel almost reassured by Akechi's words when he shouldn't trust him.
But Akira has no control here, he can't do anything but cling onto Akechi as his hands get on the handlebar, his feet over the pedal and they drive off.
Akira trembles, he clenches on Akechi, pressing his body more against him as the wind blows on them, fiercer as Akechi zooms in the road. Akira has no idea if Akechi swinging through all the cars and buses is technically legal but he gives no shit.
He just wishes to get through this alive. Akira can't open his eyes, so scared even if he doesn't want to admit it. The wind is so violent and despite his grasp over Akechi and the helmet he has, Akira is frightened, fearing he'll end up blown by the wind.
Then they stop. Akira blinks, stunned. The motor is still rumbling. They're in the middle of the road, the red light on top of them is bright, the red almost threatening anyone who would dare to continue to drive.
Akechi is glancing at him, frowning. "No need to be so frightened, Kurusu-kun. Trust me." He's honest and Akira can't find himself to hiss at his face and suggestion, still perturbed by this rush that twisted his insides.
He was tired but now he's probably even more exhausted, unable to find himself to hiss, to be snarky, to be sarcastic and think how pathetic Akechi can be.
Instead, he listens. He relaxes for this moment they're not on the run. "Just enjoy the view, princess."
Then the engine rumbles louder again as Akechi drives them wherever he wants. Akira clings onto him but forces his eyes open and…
It's beautiful. All those neon lights in this rush are blurry, there's no details, no clear forms, nothing to focus on, to be concerned about.
Akira somehow gets soothed by this view, it feels like being at the top of the world when you see everything but nothing sees you, how everyone is in their world but you notice them, how the speed makes everything beautiful but for a few seconds. Akira feels unnoticed but notices everything and he can rely on something and feels like it won't disappear.
Akira leans on Akechi's back, staring at everything. He's innocent for a moment, amazed by their surroundings. He feels like a child and doesn't feel guilty to be. He feels like nothing could catch them, could stop them and the world could crumble they'll be able to run away.
Together.
Akira holds Akechi tight and for once he thinks he can be careless. No one would recognize him now, no one would bother him, he can be silent, he can finally stop with all those masks and just enjoy something for once.
Akechi doesn't bother him no matter if they stop. Akira had let himself be hypnotized by how Akechi's hair was messing around with the wind and not bothering Akechi at all, focused on the road. Akira tried to count all the people he could discern before giving up, he tried to imagine them trying to catch them but Akechi dodged them with ease.
They were away from this disgusting world that was using them. They were almost in their own world, at their own speed.
Until it stopped. Akechi gets over the sidewalk, turns off the motor, locking everything and then looks at Akira. He's staring at Akira who is still clinging on him, the helmet on, and not moving an inch.
The rush definitely had got rid of his entire walls he had built for years. Speed can really destroy everything and Akira feels bare in front of Akechi's red pupils.
He swallows down. What should he do? What can he do? He doesn't know what to do, he was fine for once, relying on something , not carrying so much weight on his shoulders and now he doesn't know what to do without it.
What do you do when you don't feel angry? When you don't feel upset? When you don't feel bitter, sad, bloodthirsty, envious, or craving for love .
Fortunately, Akechi is here to pull him back to his senses. He smirks, sliding an arm around Akira's waist. "If you wanted a hug you could have asked, princess. My arms are wide open for you."
Oh that fucking pervert.
Akira immediately hisses, getting off the motorcycle, getting far from Akechi who laughs, holding him back by his arm. "No need to be so pressed, your highness. Except if you want to keep this helmet on, I'll need to get it back."
Akira still slaps his hand, glaring at him. "I never asked for your help to unbuckle something."
"I never said you did. Just suggesting it would be easier if I do it." He curls his fingers, gesturing to get closer.
Akira huffs but takes a step forward, lifting his head as Akechi's hands manipulate the helmet below his neck.
"Here you go." Akechi's deep voice was easier to handle when the helmet was on, deafening all the noises. Akira stares back at him, getting lost in his red irises as Akechi's hands brush his messy hair gently, combing it after wearing the helmet. He blinks and smiles, pure gentleness on his lips. "It feels less pressuring now, doesn't it?"
Akira's throat is sore, he still can't pull on his collection of masks or push Akechi away. He had let himself be tricked, hadn't he? He's in trance, naked in front of him, showing his bruises, his scars, how nasty he is and Akechi is still looking.
He can't look back. Akira tries to catch his breath, checking over their surroundings instead. "So… why did you bring me here?" He turns around and blinks, watching the beach not that far from them. The sun has gone and the moon isn't reflecting on the water, instead it's neon lights and huge shadows of the buildings.
"Oh. We're in Odaiba." Akechi speaks, almost fondly. "I like going here even if the weather isn't really suitable for it." Akechi chuckles, standing next to Akira, leaving their motorcycle behind. The street's noise is loud but Akira can hear the waves crashing over the sand, repeating over and over. "It's a nice spot isn't it?"
Akira hums, getting closer to the fences. "It is," he murmurs, watching the foam disappear under the water. Akechi sits on the fence, looking at the landscape as well. He seems much more tranquil now, less tense too.
"I like the ocean," Akechi begins, not looking at Akira. "I never had one place to really call home during my entire life but one thing that was always here was the ocean." He smiles. "It's calm or violent, too huge for us to really imagine where it ends. When I was a child I thought it was endless too." Akechi snorts and looks away, staring at Akira with those nostalgic eyes.
Akira feels like a treasure next to him as if by just Akechi's gaze all his insanity, his ugliness, his faults, his sins, his distorted mind disappear through it. He's a jewel next to him, deserved to be cherished and loved. As if he deserved to be trusted and to hear Akechi's past or mindless facts.
"I guess you swam a lot then?" Maybe it's wrong of Akira to pry, maybe he should remind himself that Akechi is his enemy and he shouldn't waste time over such details like that.
But he's tired.
Akechi chuckles. "Kinda. I wouldn't say I went here to dive into the water. Just watching it is enough for me." Akira gasps when Akechi puts an arm around him. "Except if that's what you want?"
Akira grimaces at the idea of sand in his clothes, completely wet and ending up getting sick. "Please let's not."
Akechi snorts. "Too bad. I would love to see you in a swimsuit one day then."
Akira rolls his eyes but gets closer to him, not bothering to retort to him. "As if you'll have the occasion."
"Is it a challenge, princess?"
"No it's not. Don't misinterpret my words."
"I interpret your words to my liking."
"You're annoying."
"Oh you're not the first one who told me that." Akechi laughs. "I heard worst. Being an orphan and a prostitute's child gave people opportunities to call me different names."
Yes, Akira knows this. It's highlighted on his file, the first thing you notice on the first page. Akira felt disinterested at it at first, he didn't care if his next target shared a common point with him. He was just a living corpse to his eyes.
But this living corpse has an arm around his waist as they watch the ocean together, calm and silent. Akira doesn't know if he can really consider him like that anymore, if he can really consider him that different from him.
"I've gone through that too." Akira murmurs. "I've lived with those insults constantly, almost like a sick lullaby." Some insults still haunt him even today. "It's funny. One day I was the precious son of two rich investors and next I was trash, living in the attic of a crappy orphanage." He frowns when the memories hit him.
It was dusty. Akira had coughed his lungs out there but everyone threw their trash to his "room" anyway. He could never truly get this place livable. No one would see if he got punched until he was coughing his own blood, no one would check if he got a meal, no one would ever acknowledge his existence.
He had to steal, to take care of himself in a hostile environment that didn't desire him. He had to accept no family would ever get him out of this hell, especially his. He has to accept he got given up by the people who gave birth to him.
Akira's fists clench, thinking about them pisses him off. But then Akechi's fingers brush over his back and he relaxes. He closes his eyes, letting himself be tricked. He can be free today. "It was hell, always having to go through all of this."
"Yeah, no one truly cared, did they? To be honest, I almost enjoyed school to at least be somewhere proper. Even if people were trash there too."
Akira nods. "Always below everyone, below the world as if it was just fated to be like that and nothing could be changed for this."
"Hitting an orphan was fine since we weren't human beings to their eyes. We weren't children."
"Lost."
"Imprisoned."
"Trash."
"Waste of space."
"As if the world hadn't been enough cruel to us." They murmur together.
Akira opens his eyes, shocked to hear Akechi's words echoing with his. Akechi isn't looking at him but he's holding him closer, his eyes stuck on the waves. Akira gulps, trying to move away. "My apologies, I didn't mean to bring back such gloomy subject—"
"No, it's fine." Akechi pulls him closer until Akira's head is resting over him. "I brought you here to relax since it helps me to relax too. If it helps you to talk about nasty past, I don't mind."
Akira breathes out. He should retort he doesn't want his pity but there's no pity in his eyes nor in his tone. He seems just lost in his thoughts, he doesn't hug him in a way to tease him nor in an attempt to comfort him. He's just… here.
It's probably one of the best things Akira ever got in some many years. To have someone here, truly here with him.
So Akira doesn't comment. He lays his head on Akechi's arm and stares at the sea in silence with him, not saying a word and appreciating it. He's so used to filling the silence to trick himself there's somehow someone with him but now…
He has someone.
"Hey." Akira looks up, straightening up, stretching a little after staying unmoved for too long. "What's the insult you remember so clearly even today ?"
What… a weird question. Akechi is waiting patiently though, his legs crossed and head tilted slightly on side as he stares at him.
So Akira thinks about it. He scratches behind his neck, leaning into his palm. The insult he heard the most…
"...Attic trash," he whispers, shivering when he hears it from his own lips. Akechi doesn't ask him to repeat, humming as he acknowledges his words. Akira sighs, shaking his head. "Then? What about you?"
Akechi blinks, almost surprised Akira asks him too. He puts his chin between his thumb and index as he always does when he thinks. "Well, I heard mostly "son of a bitch" but it's kind of true though." He looks down. "I think I remember more how they blamed me for my mother's suicide, said it's because of me, said she couldn't tolerate me any longer, ashamed to have given birth to me."
"Do you believe them?" Akira can't help but ask, as if he's truly concerned.
"I did. Now I think it's more those types of people who caused her death." He murmurs before he looks up. "...What about you? You believe those people, Attic trash?"
Akira blinks before he laughs openly. "Why…" He can't help the smile to brighten his face as he laughs. "Why does this sound so affectionate from you?"
Akechi shrugs, smiling. "Dunno. Maybe because I'm affectionate."
"Did someone ever tell you're such a fool?"
"Oh, more than once. And most of the time you're the one who called me that." Akechi puts his two legs around Akira, somehow able to keep his balance over the fence like that. What is he? A koala?
"Well I'll tell you again then. You're a brainless fool."
"Only for you, princess." Akira is going to push him and see if he can keep his balance. "Or should I call you attic trash from now on."
"Please don't."
"Too bad I ended up liking it, attic trash."
He's definitely going to push him.
Or he would if he knew Akechi wouldn't pull him too in his fall and bring them both harmed.
So instead he moves Akechi's legs away and steps back. "We should head back. Beach is nice but I don't plan to spend the entire night here. It's getting cold."
"I can lend you my vest." Akechi gets off the fence.
"No thanks."
"Are you sure? It has my sweat—"
"Ew." Akira grimaces, taking a step away. "Has anyone told you you'll be terrible at selling things?"
"I think no one ever thought to tell me that." Akechi snorts, grabbing Akira's hand and takes his jacket off. He doesn't give time for Akira to move away as he puts it over his shoulders. "Here. The travel will be colder so better be covered."
Akira blinks, holding the leather jacket over him. It's heavier than he expected, and bigger than he thought too. Akechi had already moved away, not leaving Akira the choice but to put it on, sliding his arms in the sleeves. He wouldn't exactly call it comfortable but it's warm and he still likes the feeling of it.
It's certainly Akechi's, Akira can smell his musk. Would it be weird if he just breathes in a little more…?
He shakes his head immediately. What is he thinking?! He definitely needs some rest, this night is insane and he's not himself today.
Akira flinches, surprised when two hands get over his cheeks, immobilizing him before he gets something over his head. "You either look cute with it or ridiculous with how big it is." Akechi snorts, buckling the helmet. Akira huffs, hitting him but instead of his fist it's the sleeve slapping. This is way too big and creates the opposite reaction Akira wanted since Akechi only laughs more.
He pouts, hidden with the helmet. He's not himself today. He can be childish if he wants.
"Come on, princess. Get on your carousel already. I'll bring you back to your castle."
"You don't look like a prince or knight at all." Akira retorts, sitting behind Akechi.
"Oh I don't? I guess I'll be a thief stealing the princess away then." Akechi hums, amused, putting down the visor of the helmet before he turns back.
Akira glares at him but doesn't retort further or call him out over how he's technically a real thief. Instead, he puts his arms around Akechi's chest, holding tight as he rests his head over his back.
There's no need to fight or pretend anymore. Even if it's temporary, he'll enjoy being with someone even for a short trip.
Even if it's Akechi.
Especially if it's him.
Akira doesn't close his eyes, he just enjoys Akechi's warmth, how strong he is, the musk around him, the motor rumbling, the way they rush on the road.
And for once, he could say…
"Honey, I'm home."