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It was Christmas Eve, or more accurately, Christmas Day by now. Everyone else had gone home, even Sojiro, finally getting the hint after asking Akira twice if he wouldn’t rather spend the night at the house. Akira was wrapped around Ryuji, crushing the blond boy against his chest. Around them, the attic bedroom was dark, the only light coming from the laptop’s screen on the desk and the moon through the window. They’d saved the world, but at what cost? Ryuji wasn’t letting himself consider the implications of everything they’d gone through just yet, and returned Akira’s desperate grasp, melding their bodies to each other.
Akira pressed his face into Ryuji. “Hold me tighter,” he whined against his neck.
Ryuji tried to squeeze Akira tighter, then laughed and said, “I can only think of one way to be any closer physically than we are right now, and I thought we weren’t going there yet.”
He felt Akira’s face heat up against his neck, blushing in return as his brain caught up to what he’d just said. Trying to dispel a bit of the anxious tension in the room, he pulled away from Akira just enough to look into his eyes.
“It feels like we’ve just lost so much, but we did it, Akira. We won and we all made it out. No one’s going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”
Akira didn’t reply, and his eyes flitted to the side for an instant, quick enough that anyone but Ryuji might have missed it. “...is there something you’re not telling me?”
Ryuji felt the stab of anxiety’s knife twist in his chest. He’d thought they were safe at last. Losing the Metaverse terrified him; it was the only place he’d felt like he mattered in a long time. In that other world, he was so much more than a mediocre student with a limp; he was Skull, worthy of standing by Joker’s side. A nearly subconscious voice had been whispering to him for the last few hours that Akira wouldn’t need him anymore now. That he’d only liked Skull, not Ryuji. He knew that they were so much more than just Phantom Thieves to each other, so he’d tried to ignore the thought, but now it came back with a vengeance. And yet, it made no sense. Why would Akira want to be so close to him, if he wanted them to be over?
Ryuji didn’t want to consider any alternative reason for Akira’s evasiveness. The last time they’d been apart had been after the Casino. Ryuji still got nightmares about it, ones where Akira didn’t return. Where Sae didn’t take the phone, or didn’t come across Akechi, or simply where he was hit one time too many before she arrived. He always called Akira when he woke from one of these nightmares, to hear his voice, to make sure he was still there. If Akira didn’t love him anymore, he could learn to live with that. But he wasn’t sure he could bear to live in a world without Akira in it.
Akira was blushing fiercely and looking at him insistently, and Ryuji realised he’d missed whatever he’d just said. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, maybe we could… go part way there?” Akira mumbled.
Ryuji frowned in confusion, his eyes widening when he grasped what Akira was implying. “Are—are you sure? I thought…?”
When they’d started dating a few months ago, Akira had said he wanted to take it slowly. Ryuji respected that and had never tried to push, but he’d made it clear that he was ready whenever Akira was. He hadn’t expected that to be quite so soon, though.
“I’m not saying we should do everything!” Akira exclaimed. “But I was thinking I might be ready for... some things,” he trailed off, not meeting Ryuji’s eyes.
Ryuji grinned, his anxious thoughts pushed away by a more-than-worthy distraction. “I’m all yours, leader .”
“Sit down,” Akira said with a tinge of Joker’s command, and Ryuji felt something inside him catch at that tone. He obeyed, looking up at Akira as he sat. Akira pulled off his glasses, laying them on the desk next to the computer, then turned back to Ryuji. His eyes, even in the dim light, were the very definition of smoldering, and a slight smirk played on his lips. Ryuji stared. He’d never seen Akira outside the Metaverse like this before; that single-minded focus was pure Joker. He wondered fleetingly if the collapse of the Metaverse had pushed their alter egos back into their true selves, but then Akira was standing over him and all psychological speculation flew out of his brain. He grabbed Akira’s hips and attempted to pull him down onto his lap, but Akira resisted and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion and dropping it on the floor.
Akira straddled Ryuji, kneeling on the couch. He pointed his chin up at Ryuji, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. “Take yours off, too.”
Ryuji would take on a god every day if it meant getting to live this fantasy again. He pulled his shirt off. The moment it was off, Akira grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the Phantom Thieves banner hanging over his head. He loomed over Ryuji, his black hair falling down around his face. The half-light skimmed off his abs, and Ryuji thought he might be falling in love all over again. Looking up into glimmering grey eyes, he arched his back to push his face closer to Akira’s. Akira closed the gap, his lips ghosting against Ryuji’s teasingly, then biting at his bottom lip, finally pressing hungrily against him and guiding his mouth open, their breath mingling. Ryuji would never get tired of his coffee and curry taste, he thought as he flicked his tongue against Akira’s.
The next day, when Ryuji got up, Akira was nowhere to be found. He stood up, and his heart dropped when he saw the folded letter on the desk with “Ryuji” written on it. He walked over, sitting heavily on the couch as he started reading.
“By the time you read this, I’ll probably be in a prison cell. I’m sorry, Ryuji. I wanted to tell you last night, but I knew you wouldn’t want to let me go. You wouldn’t have been able to accept the injustice of it, and I love you for that, but I have to do this. If I don’t, all of what we did together, all of what the Phantom Thieves went through, would be for nothing. I’m leaving a detailed note for Sojiro about everything, and Sae can explain anyway. This isn’t what I want to talk about in this letter.”
“I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to you again, so I need you to know how much I’m going to miss you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s selfish, but part of me would trade everything, would let Shido get away with it all, for just one more night with you.”
“Thank you for last night. I couldn’t have asked for better memories to remember you by. Don’t you dare move on and forget me — when I get out of here, I’m finishing what I started. I’m probably gonna have a lot of time to plan it out, so you’d better get ready!”
“Love,
Your Akira”
Ryuji walked downstairs disorientedly, holding the note in one hand. He saw Sojiro leaning over the counter, a similar note in front of him. His eyes were red and he looked angry.
“That damn kid! He couldn’t tell anyone, could he? We might have stopped him from being an imbecile, and who would want that!” Boss shouted. He looked up and noticed Ryuji.
“You spent the night?”
Ryuji nodded. “I didn’t hear him leave,” he said haltingly, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
“We’re… we’re gonna get him back, right?”
Sojiro slammed his hands on the counter, nearly causing a coffee decanter to fall off. “DAMN RIGHT we’re gonna get him back! You call all those friends of his over right now, you hear?!”
Ryuji drew out his phone with shaking hands and tapped out a short message to the Phantom Thieves chat. Replies started pinging in right away. An hour later, the whole group was sitting in a booth, making headway on a plan. Ryuji looked around at everyone. Akira’s absence felt like the missing piece of a puzzle inside of him, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. He was motivated. They would find a way, they’d get him out, and he would have Akira back in his arms. And this time, he wouldn’t ever let him go again.