[He doesn't regret a single word. Maruki deserves it.
It's the price of giving a shit. A lesson paid for over and over by a man who cares too much, despite everything, in spite of everything. One Maruki never seems to retain because in the coming weeks and months, Akechi will watch him connect to others, speak to many, share truth with a rare few who will eventually disappear without warning.
Overnight.
Without a final word because that's how the world works. Maruki knows that. Doesn't learn and Akechi doesn't feel an ounce of pity for someone who ignores it.
Dinner in a few hours - Korokke still by his side. Akechi wishes the stupid cat would've gone with him and ignores how she curls against his thigh, on top of a plush kotatsu cover.
He doesn't hear Maruki. Isn't sure where he went upstairs or cares.
The conversations between him and Eren are gone. He removes the contact from his list - even if he returns, it won't be him and Akechi isn't interested in playing 'a friend' again. He'll let Maruki inevitably align himself, and tack on when necessary to take down this reality.
And in a few minutes -
Traces of Eren are gone completely. Drafted messages never sent, notes about his preferences observed over months together, a short list of places that will never be explained, a single photo taken in retaliation of the many he was never warned about, snapped in an instant because he doesn't rely on a shitty, archaic camera.
Blinding, under twinkling starlight, on a cliff they jogged up to every morning. The photo dark - difficult to discern who's in it because Akechi was purposefully trying to take something awful to prove a point, but it's incredible how those green eyes shine regardless.
He deletes it. The last sign of false friendship shoved into the trash where Eren always belonged.
He deletes it and presses his palms into his eyes, for a brief second, a short second, because-
It's incredible, really, how much they looked alike and how little remains of either of them now and-
It's the strain of the illuminated screen, probably. Akechi's been on his phone all day. There are no eye drops in this reality. He should stop by Iris' store and request them.
Opens up his continuous conversation with her now because he doesn't have anything fucking better to do anyway.]
for them??? 👁️🗨️👄👁️🗨️wheezes
It's the price of giving a shit. A lesson paid for over and over by a man who cares too much, despite everything, in spite of everything. One Maruki never seems to retain because in the coming weeks and months, Akechi will watch him connect to others, speak to many, share truth with a rare few who will eventually disappear without warning.
Overnight.
Without a final word because that's how the world works. Maruki knows that. Doesn't learn and Akechi doesn't feel an ounce of pity for someone who ignores it.
Dinner in a few hours - Korokke still by his side. Akechi wishes the stupid cat would've gone with him and ignores how she curls against his thigh, on top of a plush kotatsu cover.
He doesn't hear Maruki. Isn't sure where he went upstairs or cares.
The conversations between him and Eren are gone. He removes the contact from his list - even if he returns, it won't be him and Akechi isn't interested in playing 'a friend' again. He'll let Maruki inevitably align himself, and tack on when necessary to take down this reality.
And in a few minutes -
Traces of Eren are gone completely. Drafted messages never sent, notes about his preferences observed over months together, a short list of places that will never be explained, a single photo taken in retaliation of the many he was never warned about, snapped in an instant because he doesn't rely on a shitty, archaic camera.
Blinding, under twinkling starlight, on a cliff they jogged up to every morning. The photo dark - difficult to discern who's in it because Akechi was purposefully trying to take something awful to prove a point, but it's incredible how those green eyes shine regardless.
He deletes it. The last sign of false friendship shoved into the trash where Eren always belonged.
He deletes it and presses his palms into his eyes, for a brief second, a short second, because-
It's incredible, really, how much they looked alike and how little remains of either of them now and-
It's the strain of the illuminated screen, probably. Akechi's been on his phone all day. There are no eye drops in this reality. He should stop by Iris' store and request them.
Opens up his continuous conversation with her now because he doesn't have anything fucking better to do anyway.]