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Sometimes, it’s just too much.
It’s too much to the point that you can’t keep on going. Everything felt pointless.
Boring, numbing, painful.
Akira knows, that’s why he at least tries to blend in, his hand rested under his chin, propping his head up so he can show he’s paying attention. But it’s just not enough. Not fair.
‘You of all people should know that..’
He can hear Morgana shuffling under the desk. The noise like static on his mind. The teacher’s, who? , voice drifting away. Akira wants to lay his head on the desk and sleep the day away.
Nobody cares so why bother?
But he didn’t wanted to make Sojiro angry.
Finally, the godforsaken bell rings. He just wants to leave. With slow movements he packs his stuff. He sees Ann eyeing him with worry, but she eventually get her attention pulled towards her buzzing phone. He makes his way out on autopilot.
Train. LeBlanc. Bed.
He managed to catch a train and he sits down, eyes unfocused and looking somewhere . Morgana shuffles and peeks his head out of the bag. His blue eyes meet Akira’s grey behind glass. A silent question.
“Akira, are you ok?”
“No.”
He doesn’t respond. Morgana leaves it be.
The train ride is silent, enough to make the thief’s troubled mind wander. Not good.
His life back at his hometown, the students at his old school. His old friends. His old parents.
His old life.
He missed it? No.
That’s what he wants to say, after all.
His phone buzzes again, to which he pulls out of his pocket and glances quickly. The PT chat.
A pang of pain hits Akira on the chest. The Missions, the team, the Metaverse, Mementos.
Too much.
It’s too much and it’s suffocating. He’s their leader, their head. He doesn’t have time for pointless banter and friends stuff. Neither get caught into his stupid emotions.
Who needs emotions if what they do is inconvenience him and others
That’s what caused this mess in the first place. His emotions got him a criminal record.
And a part of him wants to argue against it, but it’s not time to have a breakdown.
Get your shit together, Kurusu .
The train stops, Akira stands and walks out, as he’s clutching his bag. He wants to call someone. Ryuji, Ann, Makoto, anyone. But he doesn’t want to bother them. He doesn’t want to pour his guts out to his comrades. How bad he hurts, how he’s slipping.
How he’s losing his mind and how miserable he is.
He wants to argue, but stays silent.
That’s what he was taught to do, right?
Akira finally arrived to LeBlanc, with Morgana jumping out of his bag immediately. He didn’t even looked at Sojiro as he made his way towards his room. He slugged towards the bed and plopped onto it facefirst, face burning as he can feel the flood coming. To take it all out. The teen felt a wave of tiredness wash him out and suddenly, his eyes closed as he passed out on his bed.
“Wildcard..”
The call of a deep voice made the Persona user open his eyes wide. Jolting awake from his slumber, he feels an oversized hand petting and ruffling his hair. His eyes drift up to meet a fiery grin.
“Hello there, Wildcard~” purred Arsene with his unshifting face, yet adoration and care lacing his tone. Akira blinked several times at the curse persona, his grey eyes looking around the room they resided.
The walls had a red and black pattern, with also black trims at the top and bottom, it seems to be made of velvet. The two of them where on a huge couch that could fit the winged persona perfectly. Akira noticed that he was on Arsene’s lap, curled like a little cat searching for heat and comfort of its owner while the persona petted his head softly. He hummed and buried himself deeper into his chest, to which Arsene let a deep laugh rumble on his chest.
“Arsene..where--?” he didn’t finish. Too tired to form actual, coherent sentences.
“We are on your mindscape right now. My room” responded the persona, his hand back on Akira’s head. The frizzy haired boy felt instantly relaxed, eyes heavy and blinking to stay awake. Arsene’s petting reminded him of his mother’s when he was a kid.
When he was a good kid.
“Why did you brought me here?” he mumbled, making Arsene flap his massive black wings.
“Because you needed it”
He was right, Akira needed the distraction. Either he would self destruct himself or go to a path he never wanted to go back.
He’s isn’t unfamiliar to the feeling, anyways.
Arsene’s hand returns to his fluffy hair, running his sharp dainty fingers over every knot, every curl. Akira feels like he’s sleeping on clouds.
“Stop thinking. Just relax, Akira” cooes the gentleman thief, the small win and whooshing sound of his wings taking space around them noticeable as he wrapped both appendages around themselves. “Take all the time you need”
Akira let it go.
And he cries on his persona’s chest until he passes out again, lulled by the soft humming of Arsene’s chest as he sings to both of them.