Gifts for buneeto
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Summary
For one of the first times in his life, Akechi’s speechless. He knows what his old self would say—You couldn’t possibly understand how I feel, attic trash—but Akechi is tired. Tired of his old self swirling in his heart, full of rage. Tired of his “new” self poised in his mind, which is so stuffed with rationality and psychoanalysis that he’s nothing more than a cast off shell. He’s just fucking tired.
“Listen,” Akira continues. “Why don’t we just…start over? I know that might be difficult given what we’ve been through, but you came back here for a reason, right?”
Akechi almost barks out a laugh. Typical Kurusu, with the keen ability to read him so well. With the quiet charisma he begrudgingly admired. It tugs and pulls at his chest like a puppet on strings.
“You haven’t changed,” Akechi says.
Akira grins sheepishly, placing a hand on his neck. “Play me at chess, and you’ll figure out what has.”
OR:
Seven years later, Akira and Akechi begin again.