Archive of Our Own ^beta

A year. It’s been more than a year since he first saw him in that TV station, with his fake smile and fake words and fake mannerisms. Everything about him was fake except for that glint in his eyes when someone dared to contradict his own opinion.

It had been seven months since that fateful day in December. Since that day in the engine room. Since he showed his true colors. Since he told them all about his past. Since he shut Akira out of his life with a bulkhead door and a promise to keep. Since he shut Akira out of his life. Permanently.

Six months. It had been six months since he reappeared, spurred to life by Akira’s very own desires. Six months since he asked him to put an end to the fake reality. Him, who never wanted to be a puppet again. He had asked him to cut his strings, to give him the freedom he so desired. Even if those strings were the only thing keeping him animated. Alive. He asked Akira to cut his strings, even if it meant his death.

So, twice did Akira have to watch as the love of his life, so near yet so far, disappeared from his grasp, every single time.

It had been months. But Akira still couldn’t get him out of his head. “C’mon, Akira! We’re almost there!” Morgana meowed out, all excited. Akira shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. There was no point thinking about that now, so long after the event. He had made his choice and now he was gone. And Akira was left alone.

Or, no. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore. He hasn’t been for a while now. With anticipation, he approached the wooden door of the cafe that had been his home for a year. The cafe that was still his home. He opened the door.

“WELCOME—-“

“Has anyone seen my brushes?” Yusuke interjected.

“—BACK!!!” The joyful faces of his friends greeted him. Their enthusiastic greeting brought a smile to his face. All of his friends were there. Ryuji and Ann were holding up unopened party streamers, seemingly having a hard time to get them to work. Futaba was sitting on the back of one of the booth seats, a cup of coffee in hand. Yusuke was… he didn’t quite understand what he was doing, but that was par for the course when it came to Yusuke. Even Makoto and Haru were there despite their busy schedules, Makoto having been accepted as an intern at the police station and Haru having opened her own cafe in collaboration with Leblanc. All of his closest friends were there. All except one. Don’t think about him.

A welcome distraction came as Ryuji started berating Yusuke for cutting into their greeting. “C’mon, man! You were supposed to say ‘Welcome back’!”

“But my brushes appear to be missing and I had spent the last of my allowance for lunch to acquire brushes of such quality.” Yusuke frowned, searching despite the clear chaos around him.

“NOT AGAIN!” Everyone groaned a little as they heard about their dear artist friend’s poor spending habits.

Akira let Mona out of his bag and took a seat at the counter, letting out a laugh at his friend’s antics. God, it was good to be back. He took in the strong scent of coffee as Sojiro placed a cup in front of him. “You’ve had a long ride, haven’t you? It’s on the house this time.”

Akira gasped in mock offense at his words, putting a hand over his heart dramatically. “This time? Are you cutting me off from my free coffee privileges? What did I ever do to deserve such a harsh punishment?”

Sojiro thought for a second, his hand on his chin. “What about that time you and Futaba drank coffee from bowls because it was, and I quote, muggy outside.”

“Hey! That was Futaba’s idea, not mine!” Said gremlin appeared to be attempting to see how many hair clips she could attach to Yusuke’s hair before he noticed.

“And the time you dropped the stack of cups in your hand because you saw a coffee bean on the floor and thought it was a cockroach?”

“I—- they—- it’s not my fault! They look the same!” Complained Akira, crossing his arms.

“Or the first time you tried to cook curry on your own when you managed to not only trigger the fire alarms but ALSO the security alarms!” Sojiro raised an eyebrow with an amused smile as he watched Akira fumble with his words.

“Well, I— Your alarms sucked! Futaba’s new homemade ones are of much higher quality!” Akira pouted, thoroughly enjoying the banter with his past temporary guardian.

Sojiro smirked as an idea came to mind, “What about that time you tripped over your own feet and spilled coffee over all of five customers because you saw—-“

“Ok, ok! I concede!” Akira cut him off, blushing. No one needed any reminders of his incompetence when faced with pretty boys.

Sojira laughed and went to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Fine, you can have your coffee privileges back under one condition.” Akira perked up, escaping from his father’s Sojiro’s grasp. “Stay and work in Leblanc from time to time, I know you’ll be busy catching up with all your friends this summer but I wouldn’t mind another helping hand, especially now that you’ve improved from your disastrous first attempt at cooking.”

Akira nodded eagerly, he wouldn’t ever refuse to help out in the cafe. It was his home and Sojiro was kind enough to let him stay over the summer. “I can start now! I wanna brush up on my coffee skills!”

His words attracted the attention of the other’s in the room who were doing their own things, having decided to give him and Sojiro a little time to catch up. Yusuke, of course, reacted almost instantly. “I’d like a Good Kona coffee, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, oh, me too! Make me the one you usually do! Whatever-whatever coffee!” Futaba hopped off of the top of the booth seat, coming to sit next to Akira at the counter.

“We’ll have one too, please.” Haru smiled from her seat next to Makoto in the booth.

“Me too! And I’m sure Ryuji wants some coffee, right?” Ann teased, nudging Ryuji in the ribs.

“Oh, hell no! No way I’m drinking that bitter thing!” 

Akira smirked then let a small pout appear on his face. “But it’s my first time back in months! Don’t you wanna drink my coffee again?”

“For real!? I— well— argghhh! You know I can’t resist your puppy eyes! Fine, one cup! But only one.” Akira smiled at the response, glad to know that he hadn’t lost his charm in the months he spent back in his boring hometown. He stood from his seat and went behind the counter. Sojiro handed him an apron and he got to work, making each of their favorite blends. He had missed this.

Morgana hopped onto the counter as he brewed the coffee. “I wanna go get sushi after this! And not conveyor belt ones, real ones!”

Despite the lightheartedness of the situation, Akira felt a sudden pang in his heart. For a second, his hands trembled as the memory of a certain someone who, he too, had an aversion to conveyor belt sushi came to mind. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, so rare and expensive yet with a complete lack of bitter taste. It was his favorite. Despite Akira’s attempts to clear his head, he seemed to appear at every given moment.

He busied himself with the coffee machine, taking deep breaths to calm his pounding heart and shaking hands. Everything reminded him of him. And everytime he was reminded of him, it hurt. Subtly, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his pants, rubbing his fingers on the soft leather of his glove.

Akira missed him. 

He missed him so much, it hurt. But, now wasn’t the time for that. He took one last deep breath and calmed himself down. There was no point getting worked up about a boy who was long gone. He looked around. Luckily, no one had noticed his silent almost-breakdown. That was, except for Futaba, who stared at him with an understanding look in her eyes. Not only did she understand the grief of losing someone you loved, she, along with Morgana, had been the only one to know what was really going on between him and the detective.

She had heard them after all, the first night they kissed. She had heard through her bugs their heartfelt confessions of hatred. And love. She was there to see as the first tiny crack in his facade appeared. As Akira got a peak at the boy behind the mask. And Akira knew. He knew how unfair that was on her. Her brother was in love. But his love was the same person who had killed her mother.

They had a talk, full of emotions and tears. And in the end, she understood. She didn’t forgive him, nor would she ever. And she definitely didn’t see why Akira liked him even after knowing about his plan to assassinate him. But Akira was in love, and that wasn’t something she could be angry about.

“Coffee’s ready!” Akira really should stop thinking about this. Dwelling on the past never ended well for him. On good days, the memories hurt. They stung and made him feel like a part of him was missing. On the other hand, on bad days, well, he could barely muster up the courage to get out of bed. He would have found him so pathetic if he knew how Akira was dealing with everything. 

His smile came easier as his friends each got their designated cups and started drinking. Ryuji, despite his previous disinclination, took a sip as soon as he got his cup. Which was a bad idea. “Oh god! Ow! It’s hot!”

That made Akira laugh, and it felt like the bright lights of his friends were there to push away the darkness in his mind. One light had gone out but at least he had the others to keep the bad thoughts away. “Really now? It’s a wonder that the coffee that was boiling just two seconds ago is hot…”

“Oh, shut up, dude!” That made everyone laugh. And all was right once more.

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with the others, telling all the interesting and not so interesting things that had happened in the last four months. Akira didn’t have much to talk about, seeing as he came from a boring town in the middle of nowhere where the only interesting thing is a department store, but hearing about all of his friends’ successes, he felt content.

Broom in hand, he swept and cleaned the cafe, falling back into his past routine. It was evening now and he was alone. The others had to leave to catch their trains, Sojiro and Futaba went home and Morgana came along to spend a little more time with Futaba.

He sighed and took in the scent of the cafe. Coffee, curry and a bit of an old fashioned musk. The scent of home. Sojiro had offered him a place to stay in his actual house but Akira preferred the attic. So many of his memories of the past year were there and he couldn’t bear to sleep in such an unfamiliar room once more. Back in his hometown was bad enough. But he was finally back. Even if it was only for summer break.

He went up the stairs to the attic. It was dusty. As usual. But as he had said to Kawakami so many times before, it adds to the charm. He took a look on his shelf at all the little trinkets his friends had given him over the past year. He wasn’t able to take them back to his hometown because he never would have had enough space for them. 

The trinkets ranged from a ramen bowl to a chocolate fountain to a goddamn nude statue. No way would his parents have even allowed him to take those back. Especially that last one. He dipped his hand into his pocket, taking out the one… gift — not a trinket, never something as trivial as that —- he had taken with him. His glove. Akira held it up to his nose. He knew it didn’t make sense but he still smelled the scent of the perfume he wore at every public gathering.

The bells chimed.

In a shock, he jumped and dropped the glove. He didn’t want Morgana to see him like this, or even worse, Futaba. They didn’t need to know how pathetic he still acted over a dead man. He picked up the glove and went down, expecting no one special as the cafe was already locked up and only Sojiro had the key.

Akira walked over to greet the newcomer but as he looked up, he stopped in his tracks. Him. His eyes widened as he took in the figure in front of him. It was undeniably him. How—- what—- why—— “Akechi?” His voice came out as a whisper. In case this was just his mind playing tricks on him or — or… or something! He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not again.

“Hello, Kurusu-kun… It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Akechi, no. The visitor had a smile on his face. Fake, strained. Akira could spot the fakeness in his smile from miles away. Ake— The visitor was clearly trying to hide his true emotions. He— he…

How the fuck was he here? How— just, what the fuck? Akira pinched himself because this couldn’t be reality. It was a dream, a hallucination, something! Did Sojiro put something in his coffee? Or had he just finally lost it? Nothing happened as he pinched his skin, nothing changed from the scene in front of him. He was still standing there in a— was he wearing a hoodie? And, oh my God, was his hair in a ponytail!? Hot, his mind supplied. Not the time.

Seeing as Akira was nowhere near to formulating any semblance of an answer, he continued. “You must be wondering how I managed to survive unscathed after the ending room. Well, I had used a Goho-M and left the Metaverse but I was still shot. I… I’m not quite sure what happened next but it appears that someone at a nearby clinic found me and took care of me.”

Akira didn’t care. God, did he not care about the story being told to him in that pleasant, fake voice. So he had been alive this entire time? He had been alive but didn’t even think to tell him!?

“I woke up a few months ago in March. I… I wanted to start over so I went to Sae for help, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to do anything without papers. She helped me get back on my feet.”

Sae knew!? She knew that he was alive for months now and didn’t tell him!? He… his fists clenched. Why now? Why now of all times?

“I wanted to start over away from everything that happened…” The strain in the other’s voice became more evident, as he tried hiding his tenseness and hesitance. “…But I had to come see you again. One last time. I—-“

Smack.

Akechi stepped back, surprised at the sudden blow. “What—-“

“Why!? Why now!?” Akira cried out, his arms tense at his sides. “And stop acting so, ugh, fake!”

“I grieved over you for months! I had to watch as you chose death over and over again! And now you come here and act like that never happened!? You’ve been alive for all this time and you didn’t even think of telling me!?”

“What do you want me to say?” Akechi’s— for it was finally the real Akechi— eyes hardened and he shot back. “That I thought about it every day!? That not one second passed where I didn’t regret my past actions!?” He seemed to take a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. “I couldn’t show myself to you after everything I did. Not without changing myself into someone better.”

“Oh, fuck off! You were just a coward who didn’t even tell me he was alive! For months, I woke up alone and had to remind myself that you would never be there to hold me again. For months, I was left to wonder if I could have saved you. If I could have done something better. For six fucking months, I asked myself if I made the right choice refusing Maruki’s deal! Because you weren’t there anymore! And I didn’t know what to do!” Akira stepped closer to Akechi until they stood face to face. His fists clenched as he took in what had changed in the other.

His hair, his clothes, his height— Akira had to raise his head now to look at his face—, so much had changed. But it was still him. And he was there with that same anger in his eyes that always made his heart skip a beat, that same subtle tilt to his lips that showed he was displeased no matter how hard he tried to hide it, and—-

It was him. It was Akechi. And Akira didn’t know how to react. He had imagined similar scenes so many times but not once did he actually expect—- He gripped the other’s hoodie and let out a shaky breath. He looked down and let his head drop onto Akechi’s chest. “I loved you… why did you have to disappear?”

He felt arms snake around him as soft sobs shook his figure. The touch was gentle and no longer awkward as all their previous embraces had been. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to face you after all of that.”

Rubbing his hands on Akira’s back, Akechi continued, “Sae sent me to therapy while I was gone. She said it would help me. And, well, it did. Honestly, I was hesitating after hearing about your last experience with someone in that domain, but my therapist did not try to rewrite the world, much to my delight.”

“She was a nice lady. She taught me how to deal with my anger and my, um, obvious feelings of inferiority.” Akechi let out a smile as he heard Akira snort at his words. He was finally calming down. “While it is true that I was afraid to face you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to be better when I saw you again. I… I wanted to be someone worthy of your love. I still do. And I would like to be with you again. If you would have me, of course. If you don’t want me to stay, it would be fine. Say the word and I will leave you alone.”

Leave him alone? No, please, not again. Akira extracted himself from his arms and looked at him incredulously, slight panic showing on his face. He wasn’t even going to dignify that statement with a response. He needed to show Akechi that he still loved him. He needed to show him just how much he wanted him to stay. Taking out the leather glove from his pocket, he held it tight and whispered, looking down. “I still have your glove… you still have your promise to keep. So stay, please.”

Akechi let out a slight gasp then shook his head. He shouldn’t have been surprised, Akira had always been the forgiving type. He brought his hand to Akira’s face, gently caressing it. “You really are…”

One’s gaze caught the other’s and as if in a trance, they both moved closer until they could feel the other’s breath. In the other’s eyes was the same question. The same longing. Akira felt his heart beating loudly. He had waited months for him to come home. And now he was finally here. Akechi was home.

Both of them surged closer, meeting the other in the middle and catching the other’s lips between theirs. In the silence of the night, they embraced. Two lovers, finally reunited.

“Welcome home, Akechi.” Akira let out a smirk, his arms hanging around Akechi’s shoulders.

“Honey, I’m home.”