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Weird.
Akihiko had always hated that word. Despised it, actually. Wanted to throw it deep into Tartarus and let the Shadows eat away at it, just so he’d never have to hear it again.
Yet, somehow, it always seemed to find its way back to him. Like a ghost or some sort of cursed boomerang, it always came back to hit him square in the face just when he thought he’d finally escaped.
It had been that way for as long as he could remember. The other kids at the orphanage hadn’t been too fond of young Akihiko, barring Shinji and Miki of course. They always found something to pick on him about, whether it be the way he got a little too excited about watching boxing matches on the tv, or the way he had to cover his ears and hide whenever someone started to vacuum the carpet. “You’re so weird!” They’d say, even the kids who were older and presumably more mature than he was. But they’d always laugh as they said it, and Akihiko forced himself to laugh as well. Maybe they meant it as a compliment in their own twisted sort of way. They were kids, after all, and kids didn’t always think through the consequences of their words.
It wasn’t a compliment. Not even close. And by middle school, Akihiko had accepted that. His peers had gotten more hostile, losing the plausible deniability of childhood innocence. They were picking him apart by this point, somehow having eyes on the back of their heads to notice each and every misstep he made. Talked too much? Didn’t talk enough? Moved too much? Didn’t move enough? Dared to do so much as breathe at the wrong time? They noticed, and made sure Akihiko did as well. He tried not to let it get to him. He knew they were cowards that weren’t worth his time, but still, he could never quite shake the horrible sound of their hushed laughter as he walked past.
But the worst part? He never knew why. He could never figure out what he was doing that was causing him to get looked at like he was less than human. What horrible sin he’d committed that made his peers look at him like a freak, laughing behind his back yet approaching him with a false smile. He tried and tried and tried to figure it out, but he never could. He could do some things to momentarily make it better, like mimicking others’ body language or preventing himself from getting too excited when speaking, but nothing could ever make it go away entirely.
Akihiko was around thirteen when he finally learned the source of his apparent weirdness, having accidentally discovered it while researching for a school project. It was called autism spectrum disorder, and the more he looked, the more he realized just how closely his symptoms aligned. The discovery made him feel better about himself, knowing that he wasn’t alone, but it didn’t do anything to stop the negative comments he received. He chose not to tell anyone besides his closest friends— somehow, he doubted that giving his bullies direct ammunition to use against him would do him much good. They already knew he was weird, and they didn’t need a name to put to it. That would only make things worse.
By high school, Akihiko had given up trying to make it stop. He was older now, and with age came the realization that he shouldn’t give these people the satisfaction of getting him worked up. They could think he was weird all he wanted— He didn’t care. Being ‘weird’ was better than bullying others, after all. Though, the strangest part was that the insults didn’t seem to come from people that disliked him anymore. In fact, it was the exact opposite.
“Akihiko-senpai’s so cute! He’s a little strange though, don’t you think?”
“If he were my boyfriend, I’d let him ramble about boxing all he wants. It’s pretty annoying, but it’s something I’m willing to put up with for that cutie.”
“I was totally flirting with him and it’s like he didn’t even notice! He’s lucky he’s so hot, or he’d be a total outcast.”
As much as Akihiko knew he shouldn’t care, hearing all three of those comments consecutively on his way home from school for the weekend made his heart ache in a way it hadn’t in years. Even the people that admired him still thought he was weird and annoying. Wonderful. But he wasn’t going to let them win, wasn’t going to let their words affect him beyond a momentary anger. So, like he did with most things that angered him, he settled it with his fists. He trained harder than he usually did, his gloves slamming against the punching bag with such force his arms ached when he was finished.
By the time the evening rolled around, Akihiko had almost forgotten why he was so angry in the first place. Well, he hadn’t necessarily forgotten, but he’d successfully distracted himself enough to have shifted his focus elsewhere. He had moved down to the lobby, snacking on leftovers and talking to the team. The conversation had started normally enough, and though Akihiko didn’t typically enjoy small-talk, he found that he was enjoying himself. He could be himself around SEES, he found. Unashamedly, without fear. It was nice. Freeing, even. Knowing that his friends wouldn’t mock him in the same way others would, that he didn’t have to risk being seen as strange for speaking and moving the way he did— He felt a strong bond with the members of SEES for a number of reasons, but that was certainly one of them.
…In retrospect, it was like he’d jinxed himself.
At some point, the conversation had shifted to the topic of school. Akihiko was only half-listening by that point, having learned that every conversation about education eventually ended up in the same lecture from Mitsuru, but his ears perked up once the topic of clubs were brought up. In Akihiko’s mind, clubs = boxing, and, oh, he’d been meaning to talk about the new boxing gloves he’d ordered! It made sense to him, and he’d made the mistake of believing that to be the case for his friends as well. He spoke without thinking, his hands shaking with excitement, letting himself believe for just a moment that he wouldn’t be judged. That here, within the comforting walls of the Iwatodai dormitory, he was normal.
But, of course, that didn’t happen. The boomerang came right back to him, catching him off-guard and hitting him square in the face.
“Man, you’re so weird sometimes, senpai.” Akihiko winced, Junpei’s words hitting him harder than any punch could’ve. “Where’d you even get boxing from that? It’s starting to feel like that’s all you ever talk about.” He was laughing, and Akihiko assumed he hadn’t meant any harm, but that didn’t undo the pain of the initial blow.
He’d been too naïve. Of course he couldn’t escape this, even here. Of course.
“Don’t say shit like that,” Shinjiro reprimanded, much more harshly than the situation required. But he knew the weight that word held to Akihiko, and if there was one thing that would never change about Shinji, it was his protectiveness over Akihiko. If there wasn’t a rapidly growing lump in his throat he would have calmed Shinji down, reassuring Junpei that he was fine despite the fact he felt his face burning from shame, but he knew that trying to articulate any words right now would only end in disaster. Hell, even sitting here was going to end poorly, with the emotions running through Akihiko’s mind being overwhelming to the point of blurring his vision.
This shouldn’t have been affecting him like this. Junpei hadn’t meant anything negative, and he had no way of knowing the weight his words held to Akihiko. If he were going to be upset about people thinking of him as weird, it should have been from the mean-spirited teasing he’d endured from his peers over the years, not from an innocent comment from his teammate.
It shouldn’t have mattered, and yet, Akihiko couldn’t breathe.
“I’m… gonna go get started on my homework.” Was it weird to leave, or was it weird to stay? Was he making the right facial expressions right now? Was he supposed to laugh it off? Express his true feelings? Something else entirely? God, why did he even care? Sure, it was the first time he’d heard a comment like that come from one of his friends rather than a faceless passerby, but he still felt foolish for caring so much about such an innocent comment. He was weird, and it was insane that he hadn’t just accepted that already. Pushing his thoughts to the side, realizing it would be ‘weird’ no matter what he did, Akihiko retreated to his dorm room. He could always resort to punching his feelings away, even if he was still tired from doing it the first time. It was better than just letting his feelings eat away at him, at the very least. Akihiko heard Shinji mutter something to himself as he climbed the stairs, either annoyed at Junpei or Akihiko himself, but he chose not to pay him any mind. Even thinking about talking to Shinji right now made his skin crawl, a barrage of worst-case scenarios creeping into his mind. Did Shinji think he was weird too? He’d never expressed anything of the sort, but, then again, Shinji didn’t express much to begin with. Akihiko quickly came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to know either way, because the thought of even his damn boyfriend thinking he was a socially inept weirdo was too much for him to handle in the moment.
Still, the thought taunted him until the moment his fists hit the punching bag in his room. He wondered if there was something to be said about his tendency to always solve his internal problems through these violent methods, but he cut off the thought rather quickly. That didn’t matter right now— What mattered was getting his mind off of everything. Getting his mind off of the shame pooling in his chest, getting his mind off of the fact that he couldn’t escape his abnormalities no matter how hard he tried.
Don’t think, just punch. At least the punching bag doesn’t think you’re weird.
It… didn’t help. He didn’t expect it to do much, especially after having already attempted the same thing earlier today, but he didn’t expect it to do nothing. Every impact his fists made only caused another thought to leak in, each one worse than the last.
It wasn’t just Junpei, was it? He was the first to say something, but the pessimistic corners of Akihiko’s mind wondered if his other team members had felt the same way long before Junpei had the guts to say anything. Maybe their kind words and compliments hadn’t been positive at all, and were instead insults laced with sarcasm he couldn’t quite detect. Did Mitsuru think he was weird too? Shinji? Hell, did Ken? He could always ask, but he knew it would be a fruitless endeavor. They would never tell him the truth, instead lying or beating around it like he was a naïve child that couldn’t handle the fact that he was weird and there was something wrong with him—
“Aki?” A familiar voice rang out from behind him as the door creaked back open, unusually quiet and full of what was either annoyance or worry. Shit. He should have expected Shinji to come looking for him after leaving so suddenly like that; he seemed to have a sixth sense just for knowing when Akihiko was upset. Still, he hadn’t expected him to have shown up so quickly. He wasn’t ready for this confrontation yet, though, he supposed now he’d have to be.
“Hey.” But he didn’t turn around, didn’t stop working away at the punching bag. Akihiko appreciated his effort, he really did, but there wasn’t anything he could do about this. He shouldn’t have been upset over something so insignificant in the first place, and he certainly didn’t need his boyfriend to coddle him about it. And even with that aside, Shinji was never particularly known for his tactfulness. Akihiko already knew he was stupid for getting worked up over this, and he sincerely doubted that Shinji reaffirming that fact for him would do him much good. A few seconds of silence passed, seconds that would have been awkward had they been spent with anyone else, until Shinji awkwardly cleared his throat.
“I yelled at him for you.” Oh, great. Now not only did Junpei think he was weird, he probably thought Akihiko needed a bodyguard to express his feelings for him too. Thanks, Shinji. That definitely wasn’t only going to make things worse. “He said he was sorry. That he didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
“You didn’t need to do that.” Akihiko still didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes locked with the punching bag in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. He was already stupidly worked up over all of this, and he definitely didn’t need to risk making things any worse.
“Oh, yeah, because you were totally gonna say something yourself.” Akihiko wasn’t entirely sure if he was reading the situation correctly, but Shinji sounded annoyed with him. And, granted, Shinji was almost always annoyed at one thing or another, but something felt different this time. It was like he was annoyed because Akihiko himself wasn’t, as if it was somehow his own responsibility to take care of Akihiko’s emotions.
“It’s not that big of a deal.” There was a certain truth to his words. It wasn’t a big deal, or, at least, it shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t as if Junpei had launched some sort of relentless assault on him— he’d used a single word that had a slightly negative connotation. And judging by the way he cheered with everyone else whenever Akihiko landed a particularly devastating hit in Tartarus, his eyes sparkling like he’d just defeated a shadow himself, it wasn’t like Junpei thought of him as lesser than the rest of his teammates.
So why, then? Why was this affecting him worse than it usually did? Worse than the girls who had essentially stated that his appearance ‘made up’ for his weird behavior? And, hell, it wasn’t even like it had come from someone more reserved like Fuuka, or someone he was especially close to like Mitsuru or Shinjiro. It was Junpei, who had been punched by Yukari more than once for unintentionally saying unkind things. It should have made him feel mildly annoyed at worst, and yet Akihiko felt as if he was going to pass out from the shame bubbling inside him.
“No, we’re not doing this again.” Shinji walked over to him, standing in the space between him and the punching bag. Akihiko sighed, avoiding eye contact as he took off his boxing gloves and set them aside. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to have to confront this any further than he already had, but trying to argue with Shinji in situations like this was akin to arguing with a brick wall. So, as much as he didn’t want to deal with this any further, he gave in.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Akihiko’s gaze moved all across the room, from the floor to the empty protein shakes on his dresser, but never met Shinji’s. Eye contact was something he typically chose to avoid, because of-fucking-course he had to deal with an aversion to eye contact on top of everything else, but he couldn’t even bring himself to look in Shinji’s general direction right now. He was disappointed, Akihiko was sure of it. He could practically hear his voice in his head, muttering about how he needed to voice his feelings rather than just letting them simmer, and that wasn’t a conversation he particularly wanted to have right now. Or ever. “He didn’t know. He knows now. That’s it.” Or, at least, Akihiko wanted that to be it. But this was Shinji he was dealing with, so of course it wasn’t going to be that simple. Shinjiro was a lot of things, but above all else, he was protective. He was always the person to stand up for Akihiko when he himself didn’t find it necessary, having gotten suspended from school on multiple occasions for picking fights with people that had so much as dared to look at Akihiko in the wrong way.
Akihiko was… conflicted. On one hand, it was comforting to know that Shinji cared about him that much. He didn’t exactly need the reassurance, but it was still a nice feeling to know that they were still here for each other after everything. But on the other hand, it made him feel completely and utterly pathetic. He chose not to engage with those who upset him because it didn’t matter, not because he was too weak to do so. Trust him, he was more than capable of confronting and knocking the teeth out of the people who spoke about him like he was something less than human, but he chose not to. Those people weren’t worth his time and, besides, he was supposed to be strong enough not to be affected by petty insults to begin with. Having Shinjiro defend him like he was a damsel in distress made him feel as if their words really were true, as if he was so socially awkward that he couldn’t even defend himself properly.
But still, even despite all of that, there were times that Akihiko wouldn’t trade Shinji’s protectiveness for the world. As embarrassing as it was to admit, it made him feel warm inside. Shinjiro had a way of doing that to him, making him feel conflicted about things he shouldn’t. He may have been annoyed by it, had he not been nearly certain that the same was true vice-versa.
“Aki,” Shinjiro shot him a glare that looked more exhausted than it did annoyed Yep, that was disappointment alright. Usually hearing that nickname come from Shinji’s mouth provided some form of comfort, but it provided the opposite effect this time. It was spoken like he was a parent lecturing their child, and that wasn’t exactly something he wanted to hear from anyone, let alone his boyfriend. Akihiko mentally prepared himself for a lecture as he finally brought his gaze up to meet Shinji’s. He tried to make eye contact as best as he could, trying to ignore the difficulty associated with it. Shinjiro deserved a boyfriend that could at least look at him, after all, especially after going out of his way to check up on him like this. “Your boxing technique looked like shit a minute ago, you left your food downstairs, and now you’re trying to make eye contact with me. Fuck ‘there’s nothing else to discuss.’” Shit. Akihiko shouldn’t have expected anything different, really. With Shinji’s protectiveness came badgering, and with how long they’d known each other, he’d developed damn near superhuman abilities for detecting Akihiko’s true feelings. But noticing a change in his boxing technique was a new one; Did it really look that bad? It was a hit to the ego, that was for sure.
“Fine. You got me.” Akihiko took a deep breath in and out, eventually lowering his gaze back down to the ground. He hesitated for a moment, embarrassed that eye contact was still such a difficulty for him after all these years, but didn’t want to hear another lecture about how he was perfect as he was and didn’t need to change anything about himself. “I don’t know why it’s affecting me like this. I’ve heard the same thing a thousand times before. Hell, he put it in one of the nicer ways I’ve heard it.” A flash of memories hit Akihiko as those words left his mouth, and they weren’t good ones. All of the mocking words that had been directed at him over the years, all of the social cues he’d missed, girls he’d unintentionally rejected by not realizing they were asking him out in the first place; the list went on until the memories all started to blend together.
“Did something happen earlier?” Akihiko cocked his head. Because, yeah, it did, but how would Shinji know that? He hadn’t told anyone about what he’d overheard earlier, because, again, it wasn’t important like Shinjiro kept making it out to be.
“Why do you ask?” There was no point in denying it now, though, he had to admit he was curious in how he had come to that conclusion. It wasn’t like Shinjiro himself could’ve overheard because, as much as Akihiko tried to force him to, Shinji hadn’t been to school in over two weeks. And besides, he was pretty sure there would have been a news story about three Gekkoukan girls having mysteriously gone missing by now had Shinji already been aware of what happened.
“‘Cuz you came up here without saying anything and didn’t leave for three hours. And you looked upset walking in. Like you were ready to tear your hair out or something.” Oh. So Shinji wasn’t trailing his every move, he was just… using basic reasoning skills. That probably should have been the first conclusion he came to.
“Oh. I… guess I did do that, yeah.” Akihiko wanted to punch himself for being such an idiot— Of course Shinji would notice something was wrong if he didn’t even try to hide it. If only he would have been a bit more subtle earlier, he wouldn’t have had to have this conversation at all. “I just overheard some girls talking about me earlier, that’s all.” Akihiko stretched, deciding to sit down on his bed. He doubted this would be a quick and easy conversation, and he’d much rather be comfortable while having it.
“What’d they say?” Shinjiro already wasn’t pleased, if the murderous glare Akihiko spotted out of the corner of his eye was anything to go off of, and he didn’t anticipate that answering his question was going to make it any better.
“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Akihiko knew it was useless to try and wriggle his way out of this with something that vague, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. He knew Shinji would overreact if he heard the truth, caring about it more even than Akihiko himself did, and, again, that wasn’t something he thought was worth the trouble.
“You’re avoiding the question.” Yeah, that was about what he expected. Taking a deep breath in and out, Akihiko’s mind flashed back to what he had been told earlier. Of the way he’d felt, the hot flashes of embarrassment and shame that had washed over him upon the realization that even those that admired him the most thought he was abnormal and that they only ‘put up with’ him because of his physical appearance. He wondered briefly if this was an isolated incident, or if even more people felt this way about him. If the reason he wasn’t treated as poorly as he had been when he was younger was because he’d developed some sort of pretty privilege, and not because his peers’ opinions had actually changed in any significant way. “Aki?” Suddenly, he felt a hand resting on the back of his shoulder. He looked up to see Shinjiro staring down at him with a sickening look of sympathy that, while nice, only served to make him feel worse about the situation. He didn’t need sympathy because this shouldn’t have mattered to him in the first place.
“They just said that found me weird, and that it’s something they’d ‘put up with’ to be my girlfriend. They were talking about me like I was an object or something. It annoyed the shit out of me.” There. It was out. Akihiko assumed these types of things were supposed to feel relieving, but somehow, he felt the opposite. Perhaps it was the lingering embarrassment for letting such petty comments get to him like they did, or maybe it was the fact that Shinji looked like he was about to charge his way back to Gekkoukan with an axe in his hand, but either way, Akihiko didn’t exactly feel great about his admission. “But it’s over with. I’m fine, really. Those kinds of people don’t deserve my attention.” He tried to retroactively calm the situation, still certain in his feeling that this didn’t matter and he shouldn’t even be telling Shinji this in the first place, but the damage was already done.
“Do you know their names?” Shinjiro spoke up before Akihiko could even finish his sentence— He already didn’t like where this was going.
“Nope.” And that wasn’t a lie. As horrible as he felt to admit it, there were so many girls in his apparent fanclub that they all started to blend together. “I don’t remember what they looked like, either, so don’t go doing something stupid. I don’t need you getting suspended on your first day back.” Shinjiro looked visibly annoyed at his comment, clenching his fist and momentarily squeezing his eyes shut.
“You seriously expect me to just sit here and let them do this shit to you!?” He was even angrier than Akihiko expected him to be, somehow. His voice reverberated through the room, catching him off-guard and not exactly doing much to help Akihiko feel better. “This has been going on for years and every goddamn time you pretend it doesn’t matter when it clearly fucking does!” He lowered his voice to a quieter volume, most likely having noticed Akihiko’s discomfort, though he kept his tone the same. Akihiko didn’t say anything, feeling as if all ability to communicate had been stripped away from him. It was a completely foreign feeling, and one he couldn’t recall having felt before. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t particularly sad or overwhelmed, but he certainly wasn’t happy. He just felt… bad, and in a way he wasn’t in tune with his emotions enough to properly describe.
Shinjiro was right, and deep in his heart, he knew that. He had been undercutting the way all of this made him feel, and it did matter to him more than he expressed to others. But admitting that felt like showing weakness, and a large one at that. He worried that showing the truth of how awful others’ comments made him feel would lead to him being infantilized as a result. Treated like a little kid who’d had their lunch money stolen, or something less than human entirely. He feared that he would be treated as if being autistic somehow made him weaker than others, because, as much as Akihiko hated to admit it, that’s how it felt sometimes. He was the captain of the boxing team, yet he couldn’t handle the sound of the overhead lights in the school cafeteria. He killed Shadows with his bare fists, yet he still couldn’t figure out what was socially acceptable to talk about and when. He’d watched his sister burn to death in front of him, yet he couldn’t handle someone calling him weird. Devaluing his struggles was infinitely easier than being treated the way he always feared he would be, and it was a sacrifice Akihiko was willing to put up with. Hell, Shinjiro was protective enough over him as it was— He didn’t need any more of that. He was strong enough to protect himself, goddamnit; It was just easier not to over something as insignificant as this.
“Showing them that I care is only going to make it worse,” He finally managed after over a minute of silence, voice low and tired. “It’s either this, or I get open up about it and get treated like a kid that can’t stand up for himself. I’d rather be ‘weird’ than infantilized.” It felt strange to finally admit, as if he was breaking some sort of nonexistent contract he’d signed with himself, though, this time, it did feel relieving. It was a weight off of his chest, and, surprisingly enough, he didn’t feel any sort of embarrassment or shame like he had expected. In retrospect, he didn’t know why he had anticipated that to begin with. This was Shinji he was talking to. Even with all of the difficulties they’d faced in their relationship, they were still incredibly close, to the point of feeling incomplete without each other. Of course he could share feelings like this without shame. Taking advantage of his newfound confidence, Akihiko opened up further. “It shouldn’t even be bothering me like this in the first place. I mean, it’s just a childish insult. Half of them don’t even mean it in a negative way, they’re just observing what they see.” What they saw that was, as Akihiko had learned over the years, true. He was weird compared to everyone around him, as much as it hurt him to admit. Maybe someday he would be able to take that in stride, but not now.
Shinji didn’t say anything for a while, which made Akihiko worry. Had he said something wrong? Missed another social cue and inadvertently said something rude? Though, his worries only lasted for a brief second. This was Shinji, he reminded himself once again. The worst that would happen was a punch to the face and a speech about how he needed to take care of himself more, and, as strange as it sounded, that was a comforting thought.
“You’re allowed to feel upset about this kind of shit, you know,” he finally spoke up, voice still quieter than usual. “They’re targeting you over shit you can’t control that doesn’t even matter anyway. I'd be pissed too.” Huh. That was nicer than he had expected. Not that Shinji wasn’t nice, of course, he just tended to use more… forceful methods of kindness. Like the time he’d punched him in the face when they were kids for suggesting he change his personality to avoid being seen as different. Granted, that was probably only because Akihiko had punched him for stealing a doll for Miki a few years prior to that. Now that he thought about it, their relationship involved more punching than he presumed was normal. But he digressed.
“I know I’m ‘allowed to.’ I just wish I didn’t,” he admitted with a sigh. He decided to raise his gaze up to meet Shinji’s, finally feeling comfortable enough to do so, and his heart nearly caught in his throat. Shinji was looking at him with kindness, and not the usual forceful kind either. Akihiko had never been great at understanding the emotions of others, especially not Shinji’s, who somehow managed to express nearly every possible emotion with an annoyed glare and a frown, but somehow, he could sense his affection clearly right now. He was… worried, Akihiko assumed. Worried for him. Protective over him. Loving him.
As always, there was a chance he had assumed wrong. There was always chance that Shinji was actually about to break up with him or slice his head off with his axe or something, though, for once, Akihiko chose to believe in his faulty ability to read others emotions. He let himself indulge in the feeling of warmth Shinji’s expression gave him, in the love shining in his eyes and the worried half-smile he was giving, and it successfully managed to shoo away the negative thoughts that had been bothering him all day. Not in the way it probably should have, but because he was now more embarrassed by what something as simple as a half-smile was doing to him than he was by everything else.
“I wish you would.” Shinjiro seemed to notice his staring, his eyes momentarily widening as he looked away. Even Akihiko could tell that he was embarrassed, and it was strangely endearing in a way. Shinji, who tried to hide his emotions as much as possible, had gotten flustered just from his staring. It was… cute, though he’d never say that out loud. “It’s infuriating watching you pretend not to care when you clearly do.” Unfortunately, Akihiko’s happiness didn't last long. He clenched his fist, annoyed that this conversation seemed to be going in circles. He appreciated that Shinji cared about him so much, but he was one more comment away from just lying and pretending he would start to open up.
“Everything I can try to do about it is only going to make it worse.” Akihiko hated how helpless he sounded, but his discomfort was lessened enough from the comfort of being near Shinji that he could shove it aside momentarily. He tugged on the ends of his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. It helped more than he thought it would, and after a few seconds, he had almost forgotten why he was upset in the first place.
“You’re the captain of the boxing team and you have a cult of girls that are obsessed with you. The second you admit it upsets you you’ll have an army to defend you.” A tick of silence passed, and Shinji continued, his gaze now back on Akihiko. “And if this is about Junpei, I, uh, don’t think that’ll be an issue anymore.” He almost didn’t want to know, but…
“What did you say to him?”
“Not important.”
“Shinji!” Akihiko reprimanded. It felt nice to be on the opposite end of the disappointed name-calling for once— Usually it was Shinji reprimanding him for his reckless decisions. “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you can scare away the new members.”
“I didn’t scare him away. Just made sure he wasn’t going to say that shit about you again.” Oh boy. Akihiko couldn’t wait to figure out what that meant. Either Shinjiro had just talked to Junpei in a respectful manner and he was just trying to sound tough, or he had blown things way out of proportion to protect Akihiko from something he didn’t need protection from. He sincerely hoped it was the former, but, knowing Shinji, it very well could have been the latter.
“I don’t need you to do that for me.” They were going in circles again, and Akihiko realized that. He tried to muster up something else, some better explanation for why he felt this way to begin with, but as they often did, words failed him. Everything he could have said, every explanation he could have possibly offered died in his throat, taking any chance at ending this stupid conversation with it. Fuck this, Akihiko decided after a few seconds of being unable to force something out of his mouth. He wasn’t going to feel powerless and embarrassed any longer. Not today. He reached over and grabbed Shinji’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Physical actions were often easier than words, he had realized a while back. They were easier to do. Harder to misinterpret or mess up. And as much as he tried to hide it, it was clear that Shinji sincerely enjoyed any type of physical touch. “I love you,” Akihiko managed after a while, his voice finally coming back to him. It wasn’t what he’d originally meant to say, and it wasn’t exactly helping with the conversation at hand, but that didn’t matter. It was true, and it felt nice to say. It felt like a sort of weight off of his back, even though it was something he’d said dozens of times. Shinji made a choked sound immediately after the words left his mouth, his eyes looking anywhere and everywhere except for Akihiko. He still couldn’t handle such simple affection after all this time, and it was the sweetest damn thing he’d ever seen.
“I, uh, love you too.” Shinjiro still wasn’t looking at him, poorly attempting to hide his face in his beanie, though the sincerity of his voice was clear. He may have just been imagining things, but Akihiko could’ve sworn there was a slight red tint on his face. “That’s why it’s fucking infuriating to see you try to be a tough guy about this shit when it clearly bothers you. I never thought I’d want you to be a crybaby about something, but if I see you let this eat away at you any longer I’m gonna lose my damn mind.” Ah. Shinji’s perspective made much more sense now, looking at it through that perspective. Akihiko had been in that position before, watching Shinji continuously make choices that were detrimental for his physical and mental well-being all the while pretending it didn’t matter. Though it was months ago and those issues had been resolved to a certain extent, Akihiko could still remember how he felt in those moments. Sick to his stomach, furious at both Shinji for doing what he had and himself for not being able to stop it. He doubted what Shinji was feeling now was anywhere near as severe as what Akihiko had felt then, or at least he sincerely hoped not, but the sentiment was still there.
“Fine,” Akihiko forced out of his mouth, his mind still flooded with horrible memories of October nights spent in the hospital. He was still somewhat reluctant, still afraid that speaking up would only make things worse, but he managed to push his fears aside. He and Shinji had had enough communication issues, goddammit, and he wasn’t going to add another one into the mix. The fear of losing Shinji again was enough to negate his other worries, even though he logically knew something this insignificant wouldn’t cause them to split up. “I’ll do… something. Not sure what, but something.” Shinji sighed, making Akihiko momentarily wonder if he’d said something wrong once again, but his uncertainties were quelled as Shinji looked back over to him with a small relieved(?) smile.
“It’s a start.” Shinjiro adjusted his beanie as he spoke, no longer hiding his face within its wool. “And you better not just be saying that, because I swear to god—”
“I’m not! For real this time.” Shinji looked him up and down, as if trying to analyze the legitimacy of his response. After a few seconds he stopped, giving Akihiko’s hand a gentle affectionate squeeze.
“Alright. Good.” Though he tried to hide it, Akihiko noticed his smile grow ever so slightly. He normally wouldn’t notice such a small change in someone’s expression, but Shinji was so inexpressive in general that it was hard to miss even the smallest shift.
…And, as embarrassing as it was, Akihiko tended to stare at Shinji’s face significantly more than he did anyone else. But the first reason sounded a lot less pathetic, so that’s what he chose to believe.
“I—” Akihiko started, realizing he wasn’t sure where he was going or what he was going to say. It didn’t matter, knowing that Shinji would never make fun of him if he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say or simply chose to remain silent, but Akihiko wanted to properly thank him. Somehow, just by talking to him here, his fears didn’t seem as strong as they had before. He still wasn’t confident that this was the right move, still worried that the possible infantilization he would endure would be a million times worse than occasionally being laughed at or called weird, but as cheesy as it was, Shinji’s feelings mattered to Akihiko more than his own. He could push aside his own worries for his sake, and if everything crashed and burned, well, at least he had someone to blame it on.
Knock, knock.
Akihiko jumped at the sudden noise. He’d been lost in thought to the point of tuning out everything around him, though the loud banging on the door certainly broke him out of his focus.
“Hey, uh, senpais??” Oh, it was Junpei. He must have come up here to check up on the two of them after Shinjiro oh so gracefully let him know that he was upset. “I wanted to come, uh, check up on you guys? It’s been over thirty minutes and I’m worried about Akihiko-senpai. Oh, and Fuuka said she was going to make dinner herself if Shinjiro-senpai’s still busy. So, uh…”
“Shit,” Shinjiro hissed, somehow sounding more hurt than he did when he had been injured by a Shadow. Akihiko had heard horror stories of Fuuka’s cooking, but could it really be that bad? He almost wanted to try it just to see if Shinjiro had been overreacting all this time. “Just— Give us a minute. Tell Fuuka I’ll be down there soon and that we can make dinner together.”
“Gotcha.” Junpei walked away, indicated by the impossibly loud footsteps echoing through the hallway. and Shinjiro stood up, brushing dust off of his coat.
“Do you want me to stay?” Ah. Akihiko hated questions like that. The person asking them almost always had a certain answer in mind, and he always had to play a guessing game trying to figure out which answer was the ‘right’ one. It was never actually a question asking about his feelings, because that would be too simple. No, all social interactions had to be laced with hundreds of unspoken cues and nuances that apparently everyone understood except for him.
But this was Shinji. Shinji knew him. Shinji loved him in a way no one else did, and didn’t ask him stupid fucking ‘open-ended’ questions that weren’t open-ended at all and shouldn’t have even been questions in the first place.
“Yeah. Just for a minute.” So he didn’t feel like he had chosen the ‘wrong’ answer. He knew that Shinjiro would stay here with him for as long as Akihiko wanted him to, even taking the great risk of letting Fuuka cook dinner just to make him comfortable.
God, he loved him so much.
“Alright.” He sat back down without hesitation, even closer to Akihiko than he was before. Which Akihiko pretended not to notice, though, it ended up being all he could focus on. Not in a bad way, of course. He felt warm and comfortable in a way that only Shinji could ever make him feel, even with something as insignificant as an unspoken physical closeness.
“Thank you for, uh, well,” Akihiko stumbled out, the speech he’d planned out having completely died in his throat. Wow, he was pathetic. It was so unfair that Shinjiro could do this to him without even trying, and even more unfair that he couldn’t seem to do anything to combat it. As if rubbing salt directly into his wound, Shinji reached over and grabbed his hand, actually managing to look at Akihiko for once.
“Better?” Asshole. “But you’re welcome, I guess. Didn’t really say anything different than I have for the past five years, but I’m glad I finally got through that thick skull of yours.” Akihiko rolled his eyes. If that had come from everyone else he may have gotten defensive, but jokingly insulting each other had essentially become their love language by this point.
“You’re infuriating sometimes, you know that?” Shinjiro laughed, he actually l aughed, and Akihiko felt his breath catch in his throat. It had become more common for Shinji to laugh as of late, the often chaotic atmosphere of SEES managing to break his cold exterior, but it still never failed to charm Akihiko every time it happened.
“Love you too, Aki,” he teased. Oh dear god. As if he didn’t have it bad enough already. Now he was struggling to even breathe properly, his eyes looking everywhere except for Shinjiro. “And I guess I’m sorry for trying to be so protective over you. Didn’t realize it was hurting more than helping,” Shinji nearly whispered, sounding as if he had to force those words to leave his mouth. That was… unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. Truthfully, Akihiko didn’t need an apology. Shinjiro had only done what he thought was best, and had no way of knowing that Akihiko didn’t want nor need the protection he offered. Still, it was a welcome surprise.
“It’s okay.” Akihiko smiled, deciding to take the great risk of looking back over at Shinjiro. He wasn’t even going to attempt to decipher the look on his face— a mixture of emotions that still displayed more expression than he typically did. Still, it didn’t exactly look like a negative expression. “It’s, uh, sweet, I think. That you care about me that much.” Barely a second after he’d seen it, Shinjiro’s mixed expression quickly changed into one of surprise. His hands shot back up to his beanie, looking as if he was going to hide his face in it again, before lowering them back down to his side and clearing his throat.
“Don’t say shit like that.” Oh. Akihiko felt like punching himself; What did he do this time? What did he say wrong? Did he— “Didn’t mean that literally. It just… catches me off-guard when you say stuff like that out of the blue.” Oh. That made him feel a lot better. He wished he didn’t need the clarification at all, but it was certainly better than the alternative. Maybe telling other people wouldn’t be so bad after all? Though he doubted everyone else would be as understanding as Shinji was, even the chance that others would offer him those types of clarifications made him want to risk the chance of being infantilized or treated even worse. Besides, he’d already made a promise, hadn’t he?
Oh well. He had plenty of time to think about his decision over the weekend. For now, he just wanted to spend time with Shinji. A mere half an hour ago Akihiko wanted to be alone more than anything, yet now? He found immense comfort in his boyfriend’s presence alone.
…But nothing could ever go right for Akihiko Sanada. So the second that thought crossed his mind, another set of loud knocks hit his door.
“Sorry to bother you again, but, uh, Koromaru’s eating Akihiko-senpai’s food and also I’m pretty sure the oven’s on fire?” Oh. Wonderful. Fuuka must have tried cooking dinner by herself again. Akihiko loved Fuuka, he really did, but sometimes he really wished she would stay as far away from the kitchen as humanly possible.
“The what is on huh??”
“—So I was wondering when you guys were gonna be done making out or whatever. I mean, not that I don’t support you! That’s totally cool! Just, y’know, thought I’d let you know about the whole fire thing and—”
“Please stop talking.” Shinjiro didn't even sound mad, more-so disappointed than anything else. Akihiko didn’t blame him.
“Gotcha!” Akihiko could almost sense Junpei’s awkward smile through the door. “I’ll, uh, come find you when you’re done then. I dunno if this is the best conversation to have through the door.” Conversation? What was he— Oh. Junpei wanted to talk to him about the incident earlier, didn’t he? Akihiko expected himself to start dreading the conversation, yet, to his surprise, he felt the opposite. He felt excited, or at least something similar to it. Excited to finally tell someone other than Shinji why being called weird made him shut down, excited to finally take initiative rather than suffering in silence. He was still scared of course, not forgetting the possibility of everything going up in flames and leaving him with a worse result than if he’d just stayed silent, but above that, he was excited.
“I didn’t tell him you’re autistic, by the way,” Shinji mumbled once Junpei was presumed to be out of earshot, almost as if he was reading Akihiko’s mind. “I just told him it’s rude to say that shit about people. He said he wants to come and apologize to you, so it’s your choice if you wanna tell him.” Akihiko hadn’t expected anything less, but he was still thankful Shinjiro hadn’t spoken for him. Though, he could only imagine how confused Junpei must have been being yelled at for something that most people perceived as a harmless joke-insult.
“Thanks.” Akihiko stood up, taking a deep breath. He expected Shinjiro to do the same, but he remained seated, looking up at Akihiko like he was the only thing in the world. “I’m surprised you’re still here,” he observed with an affectionate smile. “I mean, isn’t the oven on fire…?” Shinjiro shrugged.
“You’re more important than an oven.” Absolutely mortifyingly, Akihiko felt his face burn at the comment.
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he joked, hoping his sarcasm was conveyed enough through his tone. Judging by the way Shinjiro laughed, (though it was more of a nose-exhale than anything else) he assumed he had succeeded.
“Probably.” He finally stood up as he spoke, once again brushing his coat as he walked over to where Akihiko stood.
“I’m… gonna go talk to him,” Akihiko blurted out, the anticipation becoming too much for him. He’d never exactly been a patient person, especially when it came to things as important as this. He wanted to get this over with, wanted to know once and for all if opening up to people truly was a good idea.
“Good.” Shinjiro stood awkwardly still for a moment, eyes locked with the floor, until, suddenly, without warning, his lips met Akihiko’s forehead.
Dear god.
His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights, heart pounding in his chest so loudly he could hardly hear his own thoughts.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened, not even close, but Akihiko’s breath was still caught in his throat like it was their first kiss. By this point, it was something he never expected would go away, and he was fine with that. It was embarrassing as all hell, but still a nice feeling. Besides, with the way he hid his face in his hat nearly every time Akihiko initiated any type of physical contact, it was clear Shinjiro felt the same way he did. It made him feel better to know that he wasn’t the only loser in the relationship.
“I’m—” Akihiko should have known better than to attempt to speak after that, but to be fair, he wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the moment. “I should— You should go— oven…” Wow. That had to have been the worst one yet. Fucking mortifying. He hated just how easily Shinji could break him, though he wouldn’t have wished for anything different.
“Okay.” He looked like he was holding back laughter for Akihiko’s sake, which was somehow more insulting than if he’d just laughed in his face. “I’ll ‘go oven,’ then.”
“Shut up!” Shinjiro nose-laughed again, and as if this situation couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse, abruptly pulled him in for a hug. Akihiko melted into it, feeling his body turn into goo. Shinjiro’s hugs, as rare as they were, were impossibly warm and comfortable. Like hugging a big fluffy cat. Well, if the cat in question was 6’1 and terrifying to most people. Akihiko mumbled something into his chest, even himself unsure what exactly he had said, until a sudden loud noise startled him out of his grasp.
“Is that the fucking fire alarm!?” Oh, yeah, the fire. That probably should have been more of a priority to him, though with the amount of Fuuka-related fires he’d survived as a member of SEES, he was starting to become numb to them. To add insult to injury, a third set of knocks was heard at the door seconds later.
“Good news! We put out the fire. Bad news is that we can’t get the alarm to turn off.” That was… probably good? The constant noise of the fire alarm was going to drive him insane, but at least the dorm wasn’t going to burn down.
“Jesus Christ.” Shinjiro looked like he was about to explode, and Akihiko didn’t exactly blame him. “I’m gonna go teach that girl how to work an oven before she kills us all. You good if I go?” Akihiko nodded. He knew that Shinji would stay if he wanted him to, and as much as he did want to spend the rest of the day here with him, he wanted to get his conversation with Junpei out of the way even more. Though, he wasn’t sure if now was the best time, with the deafening beeping of the fire alarm not exactly opening the door for a heartfelt conversation. But hell knew when that would get fixed, and Akihiko didn’t have the patience to wait.
“Yeah, go ahead. I’m gonna talk to Junpei.” Akihiko walked over to his desk, grabbing a pair of noise-canceling headphones and resting them around his neck. The sound hadn’t overstimulated him quite yet, but he could never be too prepared. “Go easy on Fuuka, by the way. She told me she hates people yelling at her.” As strong of a word ‘hate’ was, Akihiko didn’t think it was strong enough to describe just how upset Fuuka had seemed when confessing that to him. He distantly wondered if she was like him, and if her hatred of yelling stemmed from a similar place that Akihiko’s hatred of being called weird did, but it wasn’t his place to ask. Either way, he didn’t want to put her through a similar situation he had been through today. She didn’t deserve it.
“I wouldn’t have to yell at her if she didn’t nearly set the damn dorm on fire every week,” Shinjiro grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance. “But fine, I’ll be nice to her. Just for you.” That was… nice of him. Almost too nice. Akihiko waited for a moment before saying anything, almost sure that his promise would be followed by some snarky comment or annoyed grumble, but for once, it wasn’t. It was a genuine promise, and one that Akihiko couldn’t have been more thankful for.
“Thank you.” Really, there were about a thousand other things Akihiko wanted to thank him for right about now, but he was sure Shinjiro knew that already. A tick of silence passed between them, neither one wanting to be the first to move. Taking a deep breath and summoning all of his remaining courage, Akihiko leaned in and pressed his lips against Shinjiro’s. It only lasted for a fraction of a second, because apparently his fearlessness didn’t extend to circumstances like these, but it was still as nice and sweet and comforting as it always was. And this time he didn’t feel like he was going to melt into the floor, because apparently these things were a hell of a lot less scary when he was the one initiating them. “See you at dinner.” Akihiko made his way over to the door, unable to hide the stupid smirk stretching across his face. He caught a glimpse of Shinjiro’s face as he left: Shocked, red in the face, looking just as speechless as Akihiko had minutes prior. Served him right.
“Senpai!!” Ah! Junpei jumped at him the millisecond he stepped out of his room, his eyes wide. Had he really been standing here this whole time…? “I’m so sorry about, uh, I don’t really know what I did, but Shinjiro-senpai was acting like I killed someone or something so I guess I really fucked something up. Do you, uh, mind explaining what I did, exactly?” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, his voice higher pitched than normal.
“Yeah.” Akihiko reached for the headphones around his neck, slipping them on over his ears. The damn fire alarm was driving him insane, and though he’d usually try and act as if it wasn’t bothering him, he decided that he was done pretending.
“Yeah, I’ll explain. It’s kind of personal, though, if that’s okay.” And with the way Junpei smiled, looking more relieved than confused or disappointed, Akihiko wondered why he had ever been so worried in the first place.
Thank you, Shinji.