#What a useless waste in our history. The push for them was embarrassing from start to finish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kareofbears · 5 years ago

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blinding lights, chapter 2/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

Read on AO3 or you can read below! whatever works for you :-)

They both agreed to meet at noon at an address of Sumire’s choosing. Considering that Tokyo is still in a post New Year’s mindset, the streets and the stores that reside there are fairly sluggish; only a few elderly couples and a handful of families with toddlers tugging them along are mindlessly walking through the streets of Shibuya.

Akechi takes one look at the restaurant. “No.”

“Huh?”

“No,” he repeats, glaring at the adorable restaurant with no small amount of disdain. “Why here?”

“I thought that a small, public setting like this would be smart,” she scratches her cheek. Maybe she’d misheard when—”Kurusu-senpai mentioned that you liked this type of food, back before school went on break.”

“Did he now?” His tone is light, but his jaw looks worryingly locked in place. “How kind of him.”

“We can go somewhere else—”

“No need,” Akechi narrows his eyes at the bright neon signs once more before going through the glass double-doors. “I’m not so petty as to refuse a restaurant for no good reason.”

“Okay,” Sumire says for a lack of better response, following him in. Why Akechi has such a fierce vendetta against eating at an IHOP, she’ll probably never know.

They were seated right away by a flustered waitress. Akechi smiles at her, charming and non-threatening. It’s almost kind of jarring seeing it now.

After she shakily hands them the laminated menus, she stumbles away to the kitchen—no doubt to rave about how sweet the detective is in person, how approachable.

“Finally. I was afraid I’d snap at her if she’d stayed a moment longer.” He starts skimming the menu, ignoring her curious stare. “You have a question.”

“I do, but I don’t want to come off as rude.”

“I’ve dealt with people who would dispose of me if I so much breathed the wrong way,” he flips the page. “Give me some credit.”

She thinks of the halls in Shujin, filled to the brim with rumors and hate and animosity towards her. This aspect, at the very least, can act as a middle-ground between Sumire and the boy in front of her.

“You’re not really the Detective Prince, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

“But it’s an act, isn’t it?”

He chuckles mockingly. “Everything is an act, Yoshizawa. There isn’t a single person out there who isn’t pretending in some way or another. But, if you’re referring to how I’m no longer keeling over to lick people’s gum off their shoe, then sure, I’m not really the Detective Prince.” Akechi pauses when her eyes dart toward the kitchen. “Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. If it’ll benefit me, I can be whoever I need to be.”

The door to the kitchen bursts open. Akechi smirks. “Exhibit A.”

The waitress returns, slightly red and clutching the handle of a steaming coffee pot like a lifeline.

“On the house,” she blurts out as she pours the hot liquid into their mugs. “Um, are you ready?”

They give her their order (Sumire gets a breakfast platter with double pancakes while Akechi seems adamant on not ordering anything on the breakfast menu, asking for cream and sugar instead). When they finish, Akechi flashes the waitress a smile, tilting his head so that his brown hair brushes his shoulders, and induces yet another wave of red to flood towards her cheeks.

She scampers away and Sumire gives him a look. “Did you trick her to...get coffee?”

“To prove a point,” he corrects. Lifting his mug, one sniff has him grimacing. “Leblanc has truly spoiled me. This smells rancid.”

She lifts her own mug; it smells delightful. “That sounds exhausting, having to constantly change how you act.”

“Perhaps. But if it gets the job done, then I can’t complain. Survival, after all, must come before anything else, only closely followed by the notion of winning. Many times, those two coincide.”

“And if you get caught in the act? What happens then?”

“That doesn’t happen.”

“Sure it does,” she picks up her teaspoon and absentmindedly stirs the contents of her mug. “Why else would you be interacting with me without your…persona?”

“You think you caught me in the act?” He asks, an eyebrow arched.

“Oh, no, not at all. But someone must’ve figured it out for me.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say ‘figured it out,’ but in a way, yes. It’s more coincidence and luck. Less figuring out and more,” Akechi pauses. “A different perspective.”

Leaning back into the (slightly sticky) faux leather of the booth, he folds his hands together in a polished manner. “Are you sufficed with this interview? Or is this an interrogation?”

“I thought it was more of a nice chat,” she replies.

“Chat?” Sumire freezes. Akechi’s voice had dropped an octave, and her stomach along with it. “Chats are what people have when they’re gossiping about what some boy is doing after school, or when they have the luxury to waste time. Chatting is what friends do, Yoshizawa, and forgive me if I wasn’t clear enough. However,” he leans forward, his red eyes dark and lips pulled back ever so slightly. “Being allies with the same goal does not make us besties.”

He leans back, and Sumire can only stare at him. She tries to push away the intense waves of disappointment, irritation, and embarrassment at tricking herself twice now. A million words are stuck on her tongue like a fly caught on sticky paper—struggling, but an ultimately fruitless endeavor.

“Okay,” is what comes out. Clearing her throat, “Let’s focus back to the matter at hand then, shall we?” Sumire spoke timidly, but not out of fear of the man in front of her, but rather in fear of scaring him away. It’s obvious he has a bus load and a half of issues, but they’re allies and right now, they don’t have anyone but each other. This is one objective she can’t afford to slip up on, and with her knowledge of the Metaverse being shaky at best, she needs all the help she can get.

“Let’s.”

As he’s about to continue, the waitress returns with Sumire’s staggering order, Akechi’s sugar and milk (in tiny, blue capsules) and mysteriously straightened hair. “So sorry for the delay,” she says, most of her attention on a boy who seems infinitely more interested in the creamer than her.

“Thank you,” Sumire blurts out when he doesn’t reply, more to fill the awkward silence than anything. At least it seems to snap the waitress out of whatever disappointed stupor she’s in, after the detective had a full one-eighty on his personality.

The waitress walks back, shoulders drooping, and Sumire points a side eye at Akechi. “That was mean. Kindness has its own benefits too, you know.”

“Alright, Maruki. Can we get a move on?”

“Please.”

Akechi folds his hand over each other. “I mentioned that I’ve worked with the Thieves in the past.” At Sumire’s nod, “I believe that can be used to our advantage.”

She frowns, and picks up her fork. “Our advantage? Did you learn something back then?” She starts cutting into her pancakes, the scent absolutely mouth-watering.

“Not quite. Most of the intel I gathered from them were useless. Never in my life did I need to know about half of the bakeries in Tokyo, or which days of the week were the most plentiful in terms of grocery sales. Really, it’s all garbage. However, three things were clear by the time my truce with them had ended.”

He plucks a single capsule from the table, inspecting it with interest. “One: Kurusu Akira is very good at what he does. It pains me to admit it, but he’s powerful, much more than lets on. His ability to utilize multiple Personas to fill in any holes his team might have, the natural tendency to anticipate his opposer’s attacks. This made me knock out the initial strategy.”

“Which was?”

“Battle him on the spot,” he answers nonchalantly. “Beat some sense into him, in whatever form that may be. However, as history decides it, that plan was doomed to fail before it even began. Maybe as a last resort.” Sumire very nearly asks him what on earth he could be referring to in terms of history, but Akechi continues before she works out how to ask without setting off another aggravated landmine. It’s a lot like her floor exercises; one misstep can be her downfall.

“His power also extends past the Metaverse,” Akechi crosses his legs neatly. “He’s made a plethora of confidants splattered across the city, ranging from ridiculous to slightly worrying. The most crucial of those confidants, as you can imagine, are his pesky friends.”

Placing the capsule back onto the table delicately, he continues. “The second is what I’ve mentioned before, back in the palace—Kurusu would walk backwards into hell for his little troupe. However, the very notion of teammates demands more than one side of the party.”

He begins to stack the capsules on top of each other until a structure is created on top of the polished table (they both pretend not to notice the elderly couple eyeing them with annoyance). “And finally, number three—” Akechi leans back, gazing uninterestedly at the miniature pyramid made out of eight creamer capsules. “Is that every single one of his teammates would do the same for him.”

Like a lock and key, the pieces of it click in her mind. When he lays it out like that, it’s almost obvious.

Sumire gestures to the pyramid. “May I?” At his nod, she (reluctantly) moves her barely-touched plate out of the way and considers the structure before her.

“Kurusu-senpai is doing this for his friends,” she states.

“Indeed.”

“So, if we plan accordingly…” extending her pointer finger and, carefully, prods the base. All eight pieces fall over, the one at the top crashing down to earth the hardest.

Sumire looks up to see Akechi smiling at her, if one would be willing to call it that; it’s slightly too sinister to be called a grin, with the way his eyes are filled with subsided manic energy, though it’s shadowed by the forelocks of his brown hair—he’s the spitting image of a classic Disney villain if it were an R-rated film.

“Now you’re playing the game.”

—

The plan was simple. Straight forward.

It wasn’t too different from a hostage situation—you can’t make a move if the hostages are held over you as leverage, forced to comply with whatever the gunman wanted so long as nobody gets hurt. Take away the citizens and suddenly the situation gets a lot simpler.

Maruki had, inadvertently or not, held a gun to the Thieves’ heads with Akira playing negotiator. All Akechi and Sumire have to do is remove the hostages from the scene safely. If Akira, the negotiator, can’t be reasoned with, then they’ll just have to place their trust in the rest of them to convince Akira themselves. They just need a bit of a wake-up call.

Really, it’s a simple solution to a complex problem. All that’s left is the execution.

—

YS: are you there? i’d like to ask you something. AG: What? YS: i understand that splitting up would be smarter to make this a lot speedier and id like not to stay in this reality any longer than necessary YS: but after thinking about it, isn’t it better to do it together to guarantee success? if we can’t fail on convincing them that their reality isn’t real, then doing it together is probably a good idea! AG: That may be true. I’d like this entire fiasco to be over as soon as possible. YS: same! And you also know them way better than i do :) AG: Please don’t remind me. YS: noted AG: Are you opposed to meeting in leblanc tomorrow? We can begin our plan there. YS: starting with Morgana-senpai? that’ll be good actually. he’s the only one i at least kind of befriended AG: You’re aware that he’s not here, right? That he is not physically reading the word ‘senpai’, right? YS: yes AG: Just making sure.

Leblanc is blessedly empty when they enter, the blunt yet strong fragrance of coffee beans seeming to waft from every direction with only the slightest hint of smoke drifting towards them from the bright orange tip of Sojiro’s cigarette. He tilts the corner of his lip up at their entrance, even as his eyes light up with curiosity.

“Morning,” he greets, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and snuffing out its embers on the ashtray. “Sorry bout that, shouldn’t be smoking in front of you kids—Niijima gives me a nasty look whenever I do it. So, what can I do you for? If it’s coffee you want, it’s on the house.”

“As tempting as that may be, we’re going to have to decline,” Akechi answers. He’s once again donning a mask of pleasantness, layered so thick that Sumire has to wonder how she ever believed it. “However, we’d love to speak with Morgana for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure,” Sojiro jerks his head at the wooden staircase. “Head on up.”

They nod their thanks and make their way upstairs.

Sumire had learned early on in her life that she wasn’t someone who was prone to falling for jump scares. Horror movies aren’t really an issue for her and haunted houses were always more of an interesting location to gauge visitors’ reactions rather than try to get anything out of it herself. Often times, it is psychological horror that affected her, the creepiness of it sliding into her mind that causes her to shake and tremble.

Even though Akechi had reminded her once more, even if she spent a good amount of time trying to picture if, even though on a technical level, she knew what she would be looking at—

“Yoshizawa? Oh, Akechi too! I didn’t expect to see you guys here.”

—Nothing could have possibly prepared her for the sight of human Morgana.

He’s sat on what she’s almost sure is Akira’s bed, though it’s a futon placed on top of a bunch of grocery pallets. He has dark hair that could be mistaken as black had the sunlight from the window not shined on him, and the only remnants that could have resonated his cat form is his once-collar turning into a gold chain paired with his bright, blue eyes. With a manga perched on his lap, he looks like an ordinary boy that she wouldn’t even think twice about.

It's a really unnerving thought.

“Hello Morgana,” Akechi says when Sumire can’t seem to find her words. “May we speak to you for a second?”

“Of course! Make yourselves at home. Er, sorry it’s a little messy,” he stands and clumsily beats the run-down couch with his human hands. “Don’t know how I never noticed the mess in here before—”

Sumire leans to Akechi, eyes never leaving the fussing boy. “You’re right.”

“About?”

“This is truly harrowing.”

“You overheard that conversation?”

“—But better late than never!” Morgana finishes, giving the sofa one last pat and gesturing for them to sit. “Oh, and just let you know, I can’t stay for too long; Lady Ann wants me to carry her stuff while she walks around Shibuya and, well what kind of gentleman would I be to say no?” He laughs, so elated that it’s almost like they missed out on a gut-busting joke.

“That’s fine, this won’t take long, Morgana-senpai.”

Morgana juts his chin out, poorly concealing his smugness. “Anything for you, Yoshizawa! Just like back in Odaiba.”

He blinks, brow creasing. “Odaiba...with Akira.” His tone turns confused, like the words that were coming out of his mouth were leaving without his consent. “That was a wild day, we just found a Palace. And you had your awakening, and I was so shocked and….” A hand comes up, clutching his head and eyes scrunched tightly. “I was…”

Sumire and Akechi lock eyes, the same thought going through their mind: it’s the same reaction that Akira had. A weight left her shoulders, knowing that just as they planned, it wasn’t difficult to remind them of the true reality.

What they didn’t expect was for Morgana to disoriently glance at them and say in a quiet voice, “I gotta go...take a walk.”

“Wait, hold on—” Sumire tries.

“Feel free to stay, but I, uh, have to think,” Morgana moves towards the staircase, only half-glancing at their perplexed faces before escaping.

They don’t move until they hear the bell ringing downstairs.

“That could have gone better,” Akechi sighs, voice tight with mild irritation.

“I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together and predict this. I mean, that’s pretty much my reaction, too!” She throws her hands in the air. “I was too distracted by how Kurusu-senpai reacted.”

“Well, as we learn time and time again, Kurusu is the exception, not the rule.” Akechi moves to lean against an old work desk, and rather than normal student supplies littering it’s surface, it has strange-looking metals and hardware. “While it’s a shame to have failed in recruiting the cat, all is not lost. As long as we can convince one of them, it’ll at least be enough to make Kurusu hesitate. That’s all we need.”

“Is that the best move?” she asks, walking around the room and inspecting the fun little knickknacks strewn about. It’s probably not the most courteous move of hers to look at someone’s room without permission, but she can’t help it. “Should we try and convince Mona-senpai?”

“It’d be a waste of time, especially while we have six other people to speak to, and our time frame is limited as is.”

“Maybe they’ll naturally come to realize it, without our prompting? He already seemed pretty on the fence about his memories.”

“Perhaps. But like I said, I don’t do gambles.” Sumire peels her away from the realistic-looking ramen bowl just in time to see the flint in his eyes. “And hell would freeze over before I let this counterfeit reality become the real one.”

Sumire smiles, though her eyes are just as hard as his. “I understand the sentiment.”

They regard each other for a long moment.

Akechi readjusts his coat. “We should leave and try again tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, maybe Boss is still up for the free coffee he mentioned.”

“Ugh, finally some good news.” They head down the stairs. “Hopefully we can make it quick—don’t want to take any chances.”

“Chances? I thought you liked the coffee here.”

“Oh, I do. But the regulars here might put a bit of a damper on the—”

The moment Akechi’s foot hits the main floor, the door to Leblanc swings open once more and a young girl with bright orange hair bursts in.

“--Situation.”

—

YS: who should come after Morgana-senpai? AG: It doesn’t matter. AG: But there are a few people who I want to postpone, if possible. YS: that’s fine, but why? AG: No reason, but if we can guarantee that we’ve convinced the others before them. AG: It’s a stroke of luck that Morgana’s wish was easy to figure out, but we have no such advantage afterwards. However, I have a select few...intuitions, for what their wishes might be. YS: that’s better than nothing! Lay them on me. AG: For some of them, nothing may be the better option.

“Ah, did you forget something?” Sojiro chides, chuckling. “I told you to double-check your bag before running off.

Futaba slaps her forehead. “Gah, I know, but there’s no way I’m missing out on a day of Akihabara with mom! It’s like getting the motherlode cheat in the Sims.” She hops over the counter and slides behind the bar, very nearly knocking over the yellow landline. “Agility plus three!”

“We have guests, Futaba, and business is hard enough as is without you jumping around.”

“Huh? People? Futaba scans the cafe, her mouth rounding to a perfect O as she is, in fact, not alone. “People! People I know!”

Sumire waves, charmed at the other girl’s exuberance. “Sorry to intrude.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see this place having some people around to move the dust every once in a while,” gesturing to the wall of canisters, her arm outstretched like an experienced realtor. “Feel free to have whatever you’d like, free of charge!”

“Futaba,” Sojiro exasperates, with no small amount of adoration laced in every syllable. He turns to them in a what can you do? gesture. “She’s right, though. Say the word and I’ll brew something up.”

Futaba gasps. “Mom! She’s still out there waiting. Oh, big brain idea comin’ in!” She redirects her outstretched hand to point at them, still standing awkwardly at the staircase. “I’ll bring mom in here and introduce you both!”

Akechi stiffens on her left. “No need, we were just about to—”

“Ah, ah, ah! Nope!” she interrupts, already halfway out the door. “I’ll be back before you can recite the national anthem.” Futaba runs out, leaving the ball ringing behind her.

“That girl is a whirlwind,” Sojiro says gruffly. “Hope she didn’t scare you off. Especially you, Akechi,” he ducks behind the bar, rummaging through its shelves. “You ran out real fast last time you came in here.”

Sumire’s eyes dart towards Akechi when he doesn’t answer. “Are you okay?”

He’s about to answer when Futaba decides to burst in for the second time, chest heaving and face pink. A grin takes up every crevice of her features as she clutches the hand of a woman looking fondly at her. “I come bearing gifts! Well, a gift.”

Sojiro sighs. “Sorry Wakaba, can’t reign her in like you can.”

“You’d be a fool to think anyone reign her in,” Wakaba laughs, before tilting her head curiously at Akechi and Sumire. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“They’re friends with Akira and I!” Futaba says, chest puffed out. “Yoshizawa and Akechi, meet my mom—” For a split second, Futaba’s eyes widen before grabbing the counter’s ledge. “Nngh…”

“Sweetheart?”

“Futaba, what’s wrong?”

Sumire turns to Akechi, a clear question in her eyes. What triggered it?

“My head,” Futaba groans. She removes her glasses and rubs her eyes furiously with her palm.

However, the minute she pulls her hand away, Futaba’s eyes open and Sumire feels her stomach lurch uncomfortably. Those are no longer the eyes of the girl playfully giving away the contents of a humble coffee shop to mess with her dad; they’re the eyes of someone who’s confused, shocked, and, above all else livid.

And she’s directing it all at Akechi.

“Mom,” she says, voice trembling. “I feel better, so let’s go.”

Wakaba frowns. “Are you sure? You look so pale."

“Don’t worry! I just—I just really want to go.”

Futaba throws another glare at Akechi and an inquisitive look at Sumire before leaving, her previous energy sapped away.

SIghing, Wakaba gives them an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. Futaba has such a one-track mind. I’ll be sure that she apologizes—”

“Don’t,” Akechi says. “She doesn’t have to apologize for anything.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you," some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate. “I’m so glad to have people like you looking out for my Futaba.”

Akechi doesn’t say anything, even when Wakaba gives them a wave, following Futaba out to the backstreets of Yongen.

It was quiet for a long moment.

Sojiro clears his throat. “You still up for that coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Akechi replies, his voice possessing an odd quality to it. “I must get going now. If you’d excuse me,” In a few quick strides, he’s out of the door.

Sumire bows quickly. “Thank you for having us,” she says politely before following him out.

Looking left and right, Akechi is briskly heading towards the station. She catches up to him with ease.

“You knew that would happen,” she says flatly.

He keeps walking. “I did.”

“And you didn’t tell me? Didn’t you think that, I don’t know, would have affected our mission?”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s still the case.”

“None of my business?” She ups her pace and stands in front of Akechi, forcing him to stop in his tracks. With him standing six inches taller than her, their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let him keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality. I’ve come to understand that you’re not interested in being friends, but do not go against your own word by refusing to see me as an ally.”

They stare each other down for a few seconds, a handful of the neighbourhood’s residents whispering about them and scuttling away in fear that they might get caught in the middle of some teenage spat.

“Fine,” he relents. “It wasn’t the best move to withhold information. This won’t happen again. But,” looking around, there’s still some people milling about, an old man dutifully listening to the radio. “Not here.”

“Do you promise?”

Akechi scoffs and moves around her. “Would you like to pinky swear?”

“Akechi.”

“Fine, yes, I promise. Are you really such a goody two shoes that you need a damn contract?”

Sumire frowns. “Goody two shoes?”

“As straight laced as the student council president herself,” he confirms, pulling out his commuter's card as they near the station. “At least Niijima broke out of it once she realized what she was fighting for,” he looks back at her. “Have you?”

Clenching a fist, she says, “You have no idea what I’m fighting for. And I’m still not sure if you know what you’re fighting for, Akechi.”

His gaze hardens. “I know damn well what I’m fighting for. Not everyone has philanthropy running through their veins. That’s Kurusu’s job.”

A crowd of people exit their trains, filling up the station. By the time it dissipates, Akechi is gone.

—

YS: shouldn’t we try to approach Sakamoto-senpai first? YS: i’m sure kurusu-senpai doesn’t play favorites, but he IS his best friend, and, well, in love with him. it would be smart to guarantee that he’s on our side AG: True. Whether we like it or not, that jester is an important factor to the success of the mission. AG: But that’s why I think we should save him for last. It’s better to guarantee everyone first and then Sakamoto as a last resort. YS: (´;︵;`) AG: ...What. YS: that’s rude to sakamoto-senpai. he’s really nice! AG: No, I mean what is...that? YS: an emoji? i love them, they’re very expressive. AG: Stop that. YS: .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.

Instead of taking the train right away, Sumire decides to take a look at the inner workings of Yongen.

It’s a lovely little area—away from the insatiable hustle of Shibuya but close enough in case you want to indulge yourself in shopping and the never ending waves of shoppers. Yongen is like it’s younger, humbler cousin; small groceries, a quiet movie theatre, batting cages, and of course, a quaint cafe with a dedicated fan base of elderly couples, pretentious film critics, and a large group of teenagers.

She goes to none of these commodities, finding herself drawn to the second-hand shop run by a kind old man. An expensive habit it may be, but Sumire has always fallen back to shopping whenever she’s feeling frustrated at the world. She may not have a closet worthy of Vague, but it’s an enjoyable distraction at the very least.

And after that conversation with Akechi, she’ll take any distraction she can get.

Sumire takes a deep inhale. It would be laughably easy to let herself snap on the detective, with the stunt he pulled earlier. This mission is difficult enough as it is, especially without the mind games. It’s like playing tug-of-war with a brick wall; she’s lost the game before she even began. No, she refuses to lose. If there’s one thing she’s learned in gymnastics (except how to execute a flawless aerial cartwheel) is that half the competition is the mindset you have walking on to the mat. If you take a step with the slightest belief that you’re going to fail, the medal was doomed to fall in someone else’s hands.

Sumire begins to shop even harder.

She’s in the middle of inspecting a strangely charming glasses case that her father would absolutely love when she hears a surprised, “Yoshizawa?”

Nearly dropping the case, she turns to find a sweaty, grinning Ryuji, hand gripping one of his earphones that she can hear even from here. “Sakamoto-senpai!” Carefully placing it back down, she heads towards him, waving. “Do you run in this area?”

“Heck yeah! Life hack:” he looks around like someone who’s about to spill the beans on nuclear codes. “If you look tired enough, Boss’ll give you free drinks.” Sumire can’t help but laugh, and he goes on. “And y’know, I see ‘Kira here all the time, so that’s always a plus.

She fights not to let the smile drop from her face. “That must be nice.”

“Eh, it ain’t half-bad,” he says ruefully, but there was no hiding the clear fondness his voice possesses. “Hey, you got something goin’ on right now?”

“Um, not particularly.”

“Eff yeah! How about you and I walk around? There’s a real nice park down the street and, uh,” his expression turns sheepish. “In all honesty, you look like you could use a bit of a breather right now.”

Three things run through Sumire’s mind in the span of a breath: Ryuji’s definitely one of the nicest senpais she’s ever had, Akechi would probably warn her that hanging out with Ryuji might be stupid on her part, and that’s a huge part as to why she’s most definitely going to agree to spend time with him.

“I’d love to, as long as I’m not interrupting your workout in any way.”

“Nah, I’m on my cool down anyway.” Yanking out his other earphone and shoving them in his track pants (trademark Shujin red and white). “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Yes, let’s!”

A fourth thought ran through her mind; a quiet, subdued, selfish thought that she herself is too wary to consciously think about. Her goal right now is an honest one. She just wants a window—the same window that Akira had looked out from. What does he see? What’s going through his mind when he sees Ryuji? All she wants is a little bit of perspective.

“What were you listening to?” Sumire asks. “During your run.”

“Oh, nothing crazy,” Ryuji shrugs. “Just some political podcasts.”

“Really?” She always assumed he listened more to punk songs that hurt her ears.

“Yeah, I mean there’s a lot of shit going on in the world, and there ain’t much I can do ‘bout it. I might as well get pissed off in, like, a smart way, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s really impressive! I usually don’t listen to anything while I run since I have to actively focus on my form.”

Ryuji’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “You run? I mean, yeah, no duh you run, you’re like all gymnasticsy and stuff! And you don’t listen to music?”

“Not really.”

“That’s hardcore. That’s like what monks do on the mountains.”

“Oh, I’m nowhere near that level.”

“You’re closer than I am, at least. You need crazy good concentration when you do your…” Ryuji does a messy hop-and-spin move. “How long you been doing that by the way?”

“Gymnastics? Since I was really young.”

“No way. You gotta tell me about it!”

The two of them walk around the park with Sumire explaining her journey of experiencing the competitive world of gymnastics (carefully exempting the darker parts) and Ryuji oohs and ahhs at the appropriate times, eagerly asking her technical questions on her regimen with a crazy amount of detail. It’s clear that he’s passionate about athleticism and Sumire can’t help but be infected by his genuine enthusiasm, asking him for tips on how to avoid cramps while running long distance in return.

But one thing that Sumire can’t help but notice is how permanent Akira’s presence is in their conversation, despite not being here physically. Whether it’s Ryuji mentioning him in passing, or rolling his eyes at something he did, or just asking in a teasing tone if Akira’s actually a good senpai (“c’mon, he ain’t here, I’m no snitch I promise!”). Despite all that, it’s obvious it’s all done with a bucketful of tenderness; a clear and unbreaking thread that ties the two together that no blade in the world can cut apart.

And that’s the moment that Sumire realizes, only for a split second, she got what she wanted: perspective.

While she herself may not harbor those feelings, it’s easy to see how someone could—especially if they were a transfer student who had distressing rumors surrounding them since day one. Sumire can understand the impact that one person may have on you when it feels like you’re fighting all of Shibuya. She can comprehend the need to fight for that person’s happiness—after all, isn’t that what she’s doing?

A realization jolts her as she watches Ryuji speak, eyes bright and hands moving animatedly, that he’s probably still under the rose-tinted lenses of Akira’s wish.

He drops her off the station with a wave once they’re done. Sumire’s left to deal with sifting through which parts of their conversation was either byproduct of the wish or which was the real Sakamoto Ryuji.

—

AG: There’s also the matter of finding their locations. Some of them aren’t as straight forward in their hangouts, while others are as predictable as playing poker with Sakamoto. AG: Knowing Kitagawa, he would be loitering around the museum in Ueno. It would be easy to ambush him there.

They find Yusuke gazing at the portrait of Sayuri in Ueno the next day.

It was an odd sight, seeing Sayuri out in the open again. Sumire only knew about its history through public knowledge—a once internationally renowned artist named Madarame had been stealing his students’ art and abusing them under his care. While Yusuke’s name had initially been anonymous, it was impossible to completely leave him incognito with how massive the case had been; the painting of Sayuri, once praised to high heaven and appreciated by people who had never even picked up a paintbrush, forever bastardized and tainted by the greed of Madarame.

And now it’s on display once more.

“Let’s get this over with,” Akechi says as they close the gap between them and Yusuke.

“Be nice,” she reminds him, and clears her throat. “Kitagawa-san?”

Yusuke slowly peels his eyes away from the painting and lights up once he processes who was speaking. “Yoshizawa, Akechi, hello. Have you come here to look at my mother’s painting as well?”

“Yes,” says Sumire. “It’s truly beautiful and...a shock to see.”

He nods, his vision trailing back towards the portrait. “It’s all thanks to my sensei’s unyielding patronage that I’m lucky enough to view it from a museum,” Yusuke speaks with warmth, a tone contradicting the bluntness that Yoshizawa had associated him with. “Everyday I thank the hand of fate that dealt my cards; had I not had my sensei supporting me, I don’t know where I’d be today.”

Sumire swallows. “Do you mean Madarame?”

“Of course!” Yusuke claps his hands together, elated. “Speaking of, would you two like to join us for dinner tonight? I’d so dearly love for you both to meet him,” Yusuke smiles and she feels her chest tighten. “To spread the word of my sensei’s excellence as a thank you for what he’s done for my mother...nothing would make me happier.”

You don’t know them like I do. You don’t know how much it means for them to have their lives back.

Akira’s voice enters her mind, and she almost sympathizes with his words. Mostly though, all she can think about is the cruelty of letting Yusuke continue on like this.

“Kitagawa,” Akechi cuts in, unfazed. “Is that Sayuri you were looking at?”

Yusuke’s brow creases. “Sayuri...? That isn’t what it’s called….”

“Is Madarame-san a good sensei?” Sumire presses, and holds back a flinch when his resolve begins to crumble in front of her.

“Madarame,” he whispers. “Am I being fooled again?”

“Only if you let yourself be,” says Sumire.

“So focus,” says Akechi.

They wait with bated breath as they watch Yusuke struggle to reign in the whirlwind of thoughts flying through his brain, clenching his fists and shoulders tensing.

And then, slowly, he raises his head at them, defeated.

“Excuse me, but I must be going.”

Sumire winces, and stretches her hand out. “Kitagawa—” But he was already gone.

Beside her, Akechi lets out a hiss. “Useless. They’re all useless.”

“We still have four to go,” she reminds him. “And please try to understand his pain. He lost his mother and he has to find out that he was being used. That’s horrible.”

“Oh, boohoo. So did I, but you don’t see me having a breakdown in the middle of a museum.”

Her eyes widen and Akechi scoffs. “Save me the pity bullshit, we don’t have time for that. Besides,” he heads for the exit. “That hasn’t bothered me in a long, long time.”

—

YS: oh, i know where one of them may be! Takamaki-senpai frequents the underground mall, and i bet we can find her there :) AG: Understood. AG: (*❛‿❛)→ YS: sorry? AG: What? You were correct in that they’re useful for conveying expressions. AG: The arrow indicates that it’s pointing. I.e. you have a point that Takamaki is probably there. YS: ooh! I never thought about it like that. nice one!

Sumire didn’t know how she didn’t realize it sooner.

Rumors are a staple of Shujin Academy; if you weren’t the focus of one, you’d be the one spreading it—the gust of wind amidst a wildfire. In her first year, there were really only three hotspots in the rumour mill that were constantly being shoved in Sumire’s ears: the vulgar used-to-be ace of the track team who’s now a violent delinquent, the serial killer/arsonist/elephant trafficker criminal transfer student that came in early April, and the gorgeous foreigner that no one can take their eyes off, least of all the coach of the volleyball team.

Sumire isn’t a stranger to the cycle, having been the focus of one ever since she was made an honors student. While it had made her life unnecessarily difficult, it granted her a different outlook on those three. It has shown her an obvious truth that people seem to forget when they’re parroting false facts: most rumors aren’t true.

The delinquent isn’t actually a delinquent, but someone who refuses to stay quiet in the name of injustice. The transfer student is only a criminal in the eyes of the law, someone who had the opportunity to save someone and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, no matter the cost. The foreign student is just a girl who’s unfortunate enough to end up in the spotlight of an irredeemable scumbag of a teacher that never hesitated to hold his power over students.

But.

There was another rumor that followed Ann, one that didn’t get displayed on a billboard and screamed from the rooftops. It was passed around quietly, like a drug deal, and it was buried beneath the Kamoshida hearsay.

Most rumors aren’t true, but seeing Ann and Shiho interact with each other in the mall, Sumire didn’t know how she didn’t realize sooner that they’re head-over-heels in love with each other.

“Ugh, Shiho, I seriously can’t stop thinking about that spike you did in the last game!” Ann gushes as they shop for shoes. “It’s just like bam! Like some kind of cannon! I’m so glad it was taped.”

“Stop, you’re overreacting,” Shiho rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling wide enough that it wipes away any heat.

“No way, I’m gonna keep yelling about how incredible my girlfriend is until—Oh, hold on Shiho—Hey! Akechi! Yoshizawa! Over here!”

Ann enthusiastically waves them over. “Fancy seeing you two here. Doing some New Year’s shopping? Shiho and I are just celebrating the fact that she was the MVP in her last volleyball tournament,” she puffs out her chest. “But it really stinks that I couldn’t be there to watch in person with her, with her school being so far and all. She’s coming back this year, though! I’m so excited!”

Sumire nods, smiling, and tries not to stare at Shiho. Everyone’s seen a glimpse of what Shiho looked like after that day. No one thought that she’d be walking at all anytime soon, and even after intensive therapy it would be difficult to bring it back a hundred percent. But here she is now, speaking casually about playing in a volleyball tournament like she was born to do it.

“Oh my God, Ann, they don’t need to know that.” Shiho turns to Akechi, sheepish. “Sorry you hear all that, especially when I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Suzui Shiho. It’s good to meet you, detective.”

“Pleasure,” he replies, smiling politely. “It seems to me that you’re looking much better, Suzui-san.”

Sumire should really stop being surprised at the complete lack of reservation that Akechi possesses when it comes to reminding people of the true reality, no matter how heart-wrenching their past is.

“I’ve always been fine,” says Suzui, the comment flying over her head. “I hope you’re doing well, too.”

Akechi’s eye twitches and Sumire hurries to jump in. “It seems the two of you are happy,” she glances at Ann, and tries not to feel too bad when she says, “Especially considering what happened with Kamoshida.”

A beat passes before Ann’s gaze begins to cloud over with a now-familiar expression of disorientation and pain. Holding her breath, hoped that they could finally have their first ally amongst the Thieves.

Then Ann shakes her head aggressively and they knew it was a lost cause.

Chuckling nervously, Ann grabs Shiho’s hand. “Sorry, I just remembered we had plans to go somewhere. See you later!” Ann begins to drag Shiho—and herself—away.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Four people in a group founded on justice and they’ve chosen to ignore their own. This is getting pathetic.”

“We still have three to go,” Sumire says. “There’s still time.”

Eyeing her with disdain, “How is that you don’t seem the least bit bothered about this?”

“There’s still three people to get to! And, not to mention, there’s a possibility that they’ll come to terms with their feelings in due time.” She tilts her head. “Have you forgotten the bonds that Kurusu-senpai has with his friends?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it’s fine,” she says. “We just have to believe that they’ll be there for him when he needs him most. Even if they aren’t here at this very moment, that’s okay.” Tucking one of her long, red locks behind her ear, she smiles. “Faith is an advantage in its own right.”

#owo? whats this? another chapter?#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #goro akechi #ryuji sakamoto #sumire yoshizawa #kasumi yoshizawa #blinding lights #akiryu #pegoryu #akira kurusu #writing goro like a piece of shit is just so good its like therapy BUT YOU GOTTA DO IT RESPECTFULLY #i may hate him but i dont hate him. no <3 #anyway wear a mask and social distance #mine

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some-cookie-crumbz · 7 years ago

Text

Night of Your Life

Night of Your Life Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: After swapping funny stories, Keith comes up with an idea of a way to woo Pidge and ask her a very serious question. Though he will need a bit of help from some unexpected - or unwanted - sources. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: Last request I received a while back! This took a lot longer than I planned to but I’m really pleased with how this turned out! Hopefully everyone else enjoys it as well.

They were on the couch in the lounge, exchanging hilarious moments of embarrassment from their school days, when the subject came up. Keith was resting with his back against the arm closest to him, and his whole body resting sideways on the couch, his legs bent at the knee, with Pidge resting between them and leaning back into him. They had a large, plush throw blanket tugged over them due to the internal air of the ship being cranked up to a higher temperature than usual. The galaxy they were traveling trough’s atmosphere was of a greater temperature than that of Earth or Altea, so the Castle had automatically bumped up the air conditioning to assure the comfort of its denizens; however, after several thousand years without frequent maintenance, the air pumping out was just a tad too cold. Coran was working to fix it for them but they had found ways to cope with the cold until then. Lance was settled down at the other end of the couch with Hunk next to him, both of them still nursing their mugs of pseudo-cocoa that Hunk had prepared for them all. Keith and Pidge had chugged theirs relatively quickly and left their mugs on the table until they were ready to get up from their comfy cocoon.

Lance had just finished regaling them all with his terrible prom night that ended with him being pretty drunk – the fool had actually partaken of the punch – and trying to hit on his 73 year old Chemistry teacher. “See, you’re just making me glad I ditched out on my prom,” Keith laughed lightly.

“Wish I ditched mine,” Pidge laughed, tilting her head back to look at him.

“And what, pray tell, made it bad enough to warrant ditching?” Hunk asked in amusement.

She turned back to face the others and shrugged a bit. “Okay, well, first thing was that I didn’t really have the greatest escort. I went with this kid named Max, who was really nice but also kinda awkward and was, like, fixated on talking about his various health concerns. That wouldn’t have bothered me really, if it felt like he was just saying it as a sort of warning as to what he could or couldn’t do for food before or something but… Any time I tried to change the subject he just brought it back to that. Like, I get it, dude, you’ve got some gnarly athlete’s foot. Don’t know how you do that when you’re on the chess team but whatever. And then, originally they were planning to hold it at this really nice hotel with this kinda cute red carpet slash grand gala theme, but the Student Council accidentally miscalculated how much it would be and didn’t have enough. So then instead they had to hold it at this little bed and breakfast in the next town over with minimal decoration. Oh, and then they also didn’t have enough money for a DJ, so then they had our History teachers Polka band performing live. And let me just say that it’s hard to do a slow-dance or even just… Non-Polka dance moves to Polka music,” She ticked off her fingers as she spoke, laughing and shaking her head a bit.

Lance let out a low whistle. “Man, Pidge, that sounds like a real blast,”

“It was kinda lame and I just felt like it was a waste. I mean, my parents spent good money on the ticket for me and bought me a nice dress and in the end I just really felt like I would have a better time if I’d stayed home. If I stayed home, I could have watched poorly-made monster movies with Matt or something,” She said, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

The doors opened suddenly and Coran poked his head in, a meek grin on his features. “Ah, Paladins, wonderful timing! Would it be alright if I borrowed Hunk and Pidge? I may need a little… Assistance with these repairs on the cooling system,” He asked.

Pidge chuckled and gently pulled herself up using Keith’s knees, giving one a little pat before pushing herself completely upright and taking the blanket with her. Keith held up both hands and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “You retain heat better than I do. See you later, cuddle bunny,” She said teasingly, sticking her tongue out at him before flouncing off. Or, rather, scuffling off awkwardly since she had turned herself into a multicolored fleece burrito.

Hunk laughed and shrugged lightly at Keith. “You know she’s got those sticky fingers, dude,”

Keith watched them walk off then leaned back against the couch, tilting his head to look to the ceiling as his mind started to race through different thoughts. He and Pidge had been dancing around each other for some time now – it had been a little over a year on his part – and while he wasn’t always the best at reading people, even he wasn’t completely blind. Lingering touches, the way that she would watch his every move, and how she was always the first to jump to his aid during battle spoke to him of something more than just a teammate looking out for him. He was pretty sure that he wasn’t just imaging or reading too much in to it. He wanted to ask her if he was right and, assuming they both felt the same, that she be his girlfriend. He didn’t want to just ask her all flat and outright, though; he wanted it to be something special.

Her story had given him a few ideas, but he was going to need some help.

“Hey, Lance,” He cautioned, dropping his head to look at the other, “how good are you at keeping a secret?”

The other side-eyed him wearily. “That depends… What kind of secret are we talking about here? Are you planning to prank someone? Get revenge for a prank done to you? What are the specifics of the situation that would require secrecy?” He asked, sticking his head up to look around frantically over the top of the couch before leaning a bit closer and lowering his voice. His lips twitched up in a conspiratorial grin. “Because, if you’re looking to pull a fast one on our favorite little Green Bean, I have a few ideas.”

He blinked twice before shaking his head. “No, it’s not a prank, but… It does… Kinda… Involve Pidge? Like, kinda indirectly… Well, no, she’ll be directly involved once I get everything planned and executed but… Well… Yeah?” He questioned, growing a bit meeker as he tried to figure out how to explain it without giving too much detail. Lance’s eyes were blazing with intrigue and he could see the pieces falling together in his head, his grin turning scheming in a very different way; a way that screamed mischief at Keith’s expense.

“Why, Keith, if I didn’t know any better… I might think you were planning something to woo our dear feathered friend,” Lance crooned, looking the part of the cat that swallowed the canary.

“Wha… Pidge doesn’t have feathers, Lance,” He deadpanned, knowing full well why Lance had said it but having no intention of humoring it.

The other smacked his forehead with his hand and groaned. “No, buddy, it’s supposed to be a joke… Like, cause, Pidge sounds like pigeon? And pigeons do have feathers? It’s… I’m trying to do word play here!” He said, dropping his hand to glare slightly at Keith. The other continued to stare at him blankly, either not understanding or choosing not to acknowledge his explanation as far as Lance knew. “You didn’t try to say that you aren’t trying to woo her, though.”

“Of course I didn’t deny that. It’s exactly what I want to do,”

Lance’s eyes practically bugged out at the omission. His expression reminded Keith of the one he’d worn when Pidge revealed that she was actually a girl to the rest of the team. Lance seemed to rebound quickly, though, as he started frantically blinking; well, that or his brain was completely short-circuiting. “Wait, hold up, give me a second,” He said quickly, shaking his head and holding one hand up. He watched as Lance took a few breaths to calm himself, glancing up at Keith with a furrowed brow a few times before resuming his breathing exercise. “So… Just to make sure I’m understanding this correctly… You want to do something to woo Pidge? And by woo, I mean… Romantically impress her to cause her to look at you in a romantic way. Make sense?” He asked, his tone slow and patient.

Keith swallowed down the urge to make some quick retort – he didn’t appreciate being talked down to – and instead nodded. “I want to ask her to be my girlfriend,”

The other boy took one last deep breath before reaching over and throwing an arm over Keith’s shoulder, pulling him close and clapping him on the chest. “Okay, buddy, pal, friendo, let’s get this figured out! Considering you’re you, I’m certain you’re completely useless at this kind of stuff, so I’ll come up with a few ideas and then you can tell me what you th-!”

“I already have an idea,” Keith cut off flatly. He could only take Lance’s well-meaning insults and condescension for so long. “I just need some help figuring out the specifics.”

This caught the other off guard. “You...What did you have in mind?” He quizzed.

“I just thought of it a second ago so it’s still really under-planned, but I was thinking a recreation of prom. Like, we could have something similar to prom but it would be more in line with what would be considered a good prom, to make up for the terrible one she actually attended,” He explained. He quirked an eyebrow when Lance leaned more heavily on him, gawking at Keith as if there was something wrong with him. “… I mean… Unless you think it’s a bad idea?”

“How did you come up with an idea like that when I didn’t? I mean, that’s actually… Really romantic,” He said in shock. He looked like his entire world view had been completely shaken. “I’m supposed to be the romantic, suave, lover boy on this ship! You’re the grubby, aggressive angst-Lord! You can’t pull revelations like this out of the blue on me! It’s absolutely unfair!” He sputtered frantically.

Keith carefully ducked out from under Lance’s arm and made a bee line towards the door. “Forget it. I’ll go ask someone else for help,” He grumbled.

“Wait, dude, come back! I’m just playing around!” He protested, grabbing Keith’s arm before he could walk out. When the other turned to stare at him with indigo eyes shining with a mix of frustration and nervousness, he released his arm and gave him a reassuring smile. “If I don’t give you a hard time it’s just not us, you know? Honestly, it’s a really good idea and I think it could go really well if we put in the time to figure it out. I have no doubt in my mind she’ll be completely swept off her feet.” He encouraged.

He stared at him for a moment longer before a small smile turned up on his lips. “You really think so?”

“If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s matters of the heart,” He said, patting his own chest in emphasis, “and it’s obvious that Pidge has been interested in you for a while now. She gets all mopey every time you head out with the Blade and always heads for the hanger the minute we know when you’ll be back. I think she’s been wanting to talk to you about it, but is either too shy or unsure of when would be the best time to bring it up. It’s not like you two have had a lot of chances to be alone recently, after all.”

The other male felt a faint blush creep to his cheeks at the idea of his feelings being reciprocated. He wasn’t really used to being wanted or cared for like he was with Pidge. He’d noticed some of what Lance had mentioned, but he was always afraid of reading too far into something that wasn’t there. After all, he and Pidge were best friends, so he had considered that being why she was upset to see him go. And she spent so much time working on this or that, the hanger may as well have been her bedroom. “I was always worried I was making assumptions,” He admitted.

Lance snorts and heads back over to the couch, grabbing his tablet off the table and starting it up. “Well, I can guarantee that you weren’t. Now, sit down and let’s get this figured out. I know you just thought this idea up, but were there any ideas you had right away?” He asked, pulling out the stylus and starting to scribble something down on the note-taker application.

He walked back around the couch and sat down, leaning back in to the cushions and humming in thought. “Well, she mentioned liking the theme her school picked out, so I figured that would still be good to use,” He mused.

“So a grand gala theme? That’ll be really intricate, but if you don’t mind me enlisting the other to help, I think we can pull it off,” Lance said, tapping his chin with the end of the stylus.

“As long as it doesn’t get back to Pidge, then they can help. It’d be a lot easier than just the two of us trying to do this ourselves,” He agreed.

The other hummed and started scribbling the information down. “Okay, so we’ve got the theme… For venue, we could probably use -!” Lance was cut off by the emergency alarms going off, sending the room into a flashing array of red. Both he and Keith only flinched and looked up, having grown accustom to the sound after all this time.

“Paladins, to the main deck immediately! We have a dire situation!” Allura called over the intercom. Lance groaned and got up, clicking his tablet off and returning it to the table.

“Okay, we’ve got at least the main idea figured out… We can talk about the rest later, okay?” He asked, flashing him a thumbs up as he darted towards the door backwards.

Keith nodded, fighting down the mild disappointment in his stomach. Hopefully the dire situation wouldn’t be too time-consuming. He wanted to get this all sorted out and start preparing as soon as possible.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

As it turned out, the universe – Zarkon – had other plans for them.

In the weeks to follow his first conversation with Lance, things had been steadily busy and hectic for them all. The Galra had bumped up their aggression with the planets they controlled and Team Voltron was working in overdrive to liberate the planets and save as many innocents as they could. Meanwhile, he’d been called back to the Blade by Kolivan. They received some information that had led them to a Galran spy working within the Coalition, selling out secrets of what their plans were to Galran commanders stationed on the worlds they were visiting. The work was rewarding – the idea of anything happening to Team Voltron because of the filthy weasel had left Keith ready to do more than rough the guy up – but that also left him little time to see the others.

He and Lance had exchanged some messages to finish figuring out some of the details, but they still hadn’t selected a date to put everything in motion.

He was just getting off the ship, the small drive of information clutched safely in her hand, when something wrapped around his shoulders and spun him around. He would have been concerned if he hadn’t seen the familiar tuft of cream-tinted fur at the other end. “Why can’t you ever just say hello like a normal person would, Nihaar?” He asked with a tired sigh.

The female in question laughed and she leaning into his personal space, poking him to the nose with one of pink-padded fingers. “Now where would be the fun in that?” She mused, orange eyes twinkling in mischief. Nihaar was one of the few members of the Blade that seemed to be around Keith’s age group, as well as one of the only females he’d encountered in his time. He knew that she was the part-Galra daughter of one of the senior Blade members; the other part of her lineage belong to a race called Chuewlt. From what he could tell from her explanation and her mixed appearance her mother’s people had been akin to giant, bi-pedal felines, but specifically bigger feral cats. Her lavender fur was off-set nicely by bronze colored spots on her, calling more to mind a leopard than a house cat.

He and she had been at odds initially – she had been jealous of how much time Kolivan spent giving Keith extra help in adjusting to the Blade customs – but soon enough hit it off due to both being outcasts. Despite being in Blade custody since she was a small kit, a lot of the other Blade members found her playful and outgoing behavior exhausting and troublesome. She admitted that she sometimes thought the others would be happy if she was killed in the crossfire of a mission, or taken out in the same attack that ended her mother’s life. Keith, still trying to gather his bearings and tending to deviate from the Blade rules of abandoning teammates, had resonated with that feeling immensely and started seeking her out more often. They sparred together and swapped stories about their respective cultures – Nihaar knew more about Galran customs and helped teach him that, while he shared some of the more entertaining Earthling customers he thought she’d like – and became friends.

She certainly helped to stave off the loneliness that sometimes hit him, so far away from the Castle of Lions.

“Was there something you needed?” He asked calmly as he turned and resumed walking towards the main conference room. Kolivan was most likely waiting for him to deliver the information they’d gathered, like he always did.

She hummed and fell in step beside him, lithe tail flicking back and forth with quick snapping motions. He’d learned to read her tail to know what she was playing at; those motions meant she was keeping something from him and was amused by it. “Not so much me… But more the big boss himself,” She sang.

He tried to keep the grimace from his face. “Kolivan already has another mission for me? I haven’t even been back for a full five minutes,” He asked incredulously.

Nihaar’s grinned widely at him, a knowing glint to her bright eyes. “Oh, I think you’ll be interested in this mission. It’s something a bit more… Relaxing,” She said before darting up ahead of him.

He frowned a bit at the vagueness he’d been given to work with but simply hurried his pace. Maybe he could manage to get enough time to message Lance again about trying to pick a date for his plan.

When he arrived in the main conference room, Kolivan and Nihaar were speaking in hushed tones, both turning to him once he entered; one beaming and smug, the other unreadable and passive. “Ah, Keith, how was your mission?” Kolivan asked, holding one hand out to him expectantly.

“It went as well as to be expected… I returned in one piece, which should speak volumes,” He said, keeping his tone as even as possible. Nihaar shifted and headed toward the other end of the room, starting to click at the computer. “I take it you have another assignment for me, Sir, but I was hoping to speak with you about having a brief reprieve.” He said, turning his attention back to their leader.

“I’m afraid there is no argument to be made, Keith. This assignment is of dire importance and requires your skills in specific,” He said evenly, tucking the small drive into one of the many secret pockets of his coat. He then turned around and approached the computers as well, opening one of the small compartments where spare drives and part were kept and rummaging through a bit.

Keith clenched his fists at his side before taking a steeling breath. “No. Look, I’ve been pretty agreeable about these missions over the last couple of weeks, but I need a break. I have something very important I’m trying to find time to accomplish,” He said, trying to keep his anger under wraps. The situation reminded him too much of when he was at the Garrison – how his protests that Shiro wasn’t dead, that it couldn’t be a pilot error, Shiro was too talented and careful for that to be the case – and his feelings or opinions were always ignored for more “important” matters.

At the Garrison, it was their asinine simulator scores and graduation rates. For Kolivan and the Blade, it was collecting knowledge.

“This mission is more important, Keith,” Kolivan said with finality as he pulled out whatever he had been looking for. He then turned and walked back over to him, Nihaar a few paces behind him and still as giddy as ever. “Nihaar has already programmed the coordinates into a cruiser for the two of you. I expect you’ll both present yourselves as respectable Blade members.” He said, offering the small box to Keith.

He swiped it away with a small growl and popped it open, blinking a bit in surprise. Inside was a shimmering flower with two sets of translucent petals. His first thought was that it was a primrose that had swallowed a tulip; the petals that were reminiscent of a tulip were more inwards, closer to the small gray bulb in the center. The petals that were similar to a primrose were more along the outside, and were longer and wider than the flower on Earth. He carefully pulled it from the bag and jumped a bit when twin sets of silk-like vines weaved along his fingers and took a firm hold. The outer petals of the flower suddenly shifted, turning a deep and rich red, while the inner flower turned to a bright and sunny yellow. “What in the world is this?” He breathed out quietly, reaching out to tentatively touch the corners of one of the larger petals.

“It is called a Huywaq flower, from the planet of Gupporw; it feeds and reads the emotions of other living creatures and translates them by changing the hue of its petals in accordance,” Kolivan explained evenly. He then cleared his throat and stood a bit straighter. “The vines take a hold of a living creature near by and stay attached to a comfortable but unburdening degree. It should make for a charming… Ah, what was the world Lance used for it?” He asked, pausing to steal a glance at Nihaar.

The younger Galran snorted and rolled her eyes. “A corsage,” She said.

“Ah, yes,” He said, nodding as he looked back at the baffled young man before him, “a corsage. It is customary that the pursuer bring a corsage for the object of their affection when attending one of these Prom ceremonies, yes?”

He blinked a bit then slowly tilted his head. “Wait… Is my mission…?” He trailed, hope and a bit of panic beginning to brew up inside of him. The outer petals of the flower changed to golden yellow color while the inner petals became a more teal-like pigment.

“Nihaar went through the messages between you and Lance while you were on the mission prior this last one,” Kolivan started calmly. The female in question leaned a bit closer to waggle her kitten mittens at Keith, as if to drive the point home. “Courtship is a very serious matter for Galra and I will admit I was a bit distressed to see your assignments have been taking you away from such matters. Nihaar and I got in touch with Lance and the other residents of the Castle of Lions to see if we could help coordinate this ceremony in any way. As such, you and Nihaar shall be leaving here immediately so that you can return to them to participate. I shall allow the two of you to take some time off and will send for you when your presence is necessary.”

He tried to open his mouths a few times to say something but nothing came out. His chest panged with a mix of gratitude and being overwhelmed. He forced himself to fight it back and carefully detached the flower from himself. Once it was settled back in the box, the petals returned to their translucent, glimmering state. “Thank you, both of you,” He said, quickly lifting his head to look between the two.

Kolivan offered him a small smile and dip of the head, while Nihaar looped one of her arms through his and began dragging him towards the exit. “You can thank us by successfully courting the Green Paladin! I’ll be really sore if I spent all this time helping to get this set up only to have you choke when sealing the deal!” She announced, her tone that of a mock-lecture as she dragged him along with her.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

When they arrived at the Castle of Lions, Keith was swept away by a frantic Lance and Hunk. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago! Allura and Nyma are almost done getting Pidge ready, and Matt and the others are almost done setting everything up out in the Grand Hall! We’ll only be able to stall this ‘diplomatic gala’ for so long before she catches wind that there’s something more going on!” Lance huffed at Nihaar, using air quotes where applicable.

Nihaar’s ears twitched downward and she glared, tail snapping side to side like a whip. “I sent word along that we were gonna be fashionably late! Don’t get your teet in a twist!” She growled back, one paw settling on her hip.

“Fashionably late only applies to being tardy by any time that is shorter than fifteen minutes!” He bickered back.

Before either of them could continue their argument Hunk cleared his throat. “Uh, guys, you arguing is just gonna delay things even longer, yeah? Nihaar, thanks for all your help and being Keith’s ride. Allura mentioned having an outfit for you, too. Coran should still be in the Grand Hall; he can help you find where she and the others are at,” He said, offering a smile at the Galra female.

“Thank you, Yellow Paladin! At least someone on your team knows how to express gratitude,” She said with a huff, sticking her tongue out at Lance before flouncing off.

Keith flashed a grateful glance up at Hunk, who responded with a small thumbs up.

Getting dressed was relatively easy, all things said. He wasn’t exactly sure when they’d had time to get tuxedos from Earth or find an intergalactic shop that sold Earth-themed attire, but he was impressed by the lengths they’d all gone to for him. Having never worn a tuxedo before, Hunk and Lance helped him with making sure everything was tucked in and snug, and Hunk showed him and Lance both how to tie their ties properly. Just as they finished, Matt poked his head in, dressed to the nines and hair slicked back. He sent one quick dirty look at the dark haired man before looking at Lance with a more neutral expression. “You three better get it in gear; Pidge is starting to get antsy. If she has to wait much longer I think she’ll just bail out on this all together,” He said evenly.

Lance snorted. “Tell her it’s for the greater good of diplomacy!” He retorted.

Matt sent him a bland look. “When has my sister ever been diplomatic about anything when irritated?”

Before anyone could answer, he was gone again. Keith looked at the other two curiously. “Was I imagining things or did he glare at me?”

“He totally did. I think he’s mad you wanna date his sister and didn’t ask his permission first,” Lance agreed, heading over and opening the door for them.

“I want to date Pidge, not Matt; she can make her own decisions,” He scoffed.

“Yeah, but she’s still his little sister. I mean, speaking as a big brother myself, if a guy wanted to woo one of my sisters… I’d appreciate him at least asking me what I thought would be a good approach,” The other said with a small shrug.

“Don’t take his sulking too seriously though; I mean, he still helped get everything set up,” Hunk pointed out quickly.

The three headed most of the way together, but Keith ended up heading towards the dressing room Pidge and the others were in alone. He looked down at the box with her corsage in his hands and took a deep breath as he lightly knocked on the door. He could hear fast footfalls and Allura’s voice, chiding, “Pidge, please, be patient! We just want to make sure you look perfect for this!” The doors slid open to reveal her in a pink gown with one bedazzled strap and her hair knotted up in an intricate bun, a scowl on her lips and looking ready to unleash a slew of Altean swears. Her disposition brightened immediately. “Ah, excellent timing! Pidge, your escort for the evening is here!” She beamed, stepping aside to reveal him.

His eyes fell to Pidge and immediately he felt like his tongue had suddenly lodged itself effectively into his throat. The dress they’d picked for her was certainly something to behold; a strapless little number with a skirt that went to about her mid thigh. It was a bright jade hue – not quite as bright as the green of her armor but a shade just as eye-catching – with a silver lace floral pattern all along the top half. The lace also seemed to have beads sewn into it, adding an extra little pop as they gleamed slightly in the light. Her hair was tied back in a short braid that rested between her shoulder blades and the only trace of make-up on her was the light shimmer of a pink gloss to her lips.

He was grateful; foundation would have covered up the dotting of freckles along the bridge of her nose, reminiscent to him of a starry sky.

“Keith, you’re here, too?” She asked, surprised, but judging from the smile on her lips as she rose up from the small stool she’d been settled at still thrilled to see him. He forced himself to swallow and nodded meekly as she crossed the room to him. “Huh, I guess it makes sense… They sent you as the Blade representative, I take it?”

He shook his head and carefully tugged the box open. “Sorry, but this isn’t actually a diplomatic thing,” He said, setting the emptied box down on a nearby table. He held the flower in one hand, being careful to keep the vines from wrapping around him instinctively, and took her left hand in his own. He set the flower just above her wrist, watching her intrigue and surprise with a smile of his own, as the flower wrapped around her wrist much like it had to him earlier. Once settled, the petals shimmered and changed; the outer petals becoming the same yellow from before while the inner petals became a rich blue-violet hue. “Ever wanted to attend a space prom?”

She blinked a bit as she looked from him to the flower then beamed happily. The petals changed again – inner petals becoming a more distinctly violet hue while the outer petals became a fetching purple tint – and she nodded. “Sounds like an experience well worth my time,” She hummed, taking his offered arm and letting him lead her down the hall to where the festivities were being held.

As it turned out, things had come together better than he could have imagined.

When they had agreed that they were going with the red carpet/grand gala theme Pidge’s original prom had been aiming for, Lance took it and ran for miles. The grand hall of the castle was always held a mystical feelings to it since the first day they had walked through the doors, but there was something about all the lights being a bit dimmed that made it that much more other-worldly. There were strings of what seemed to be some kind of moss hanging in small loops all along the ceiling, but they seemed to be some kind of bio-luminescent organism with the faint white glow they created. The ceiling of the grand hall had either been opened up some how or was having a projection of the night sky above them, both of the planet’s moons full and adding even more to the shimmering, silver and gold gleam of the dance floor. There was a long table off to the side filled with snacks and beverages – provided by Hunk, almost spiked by Lance, guarded by Shiro – while the DJ booth was settled against the opposite wall, with Beezer happily manning the station and pumping out energetic, dance-worthy beats. The rebels were all dressed and tidied up just the same as Team Voltron and seemed to be having fun themselves, a few of them already out on the dance floor.

He stole a glance at Pidge and grinned at the unadulterated wonder on her face. The outer petals had become a richer, emerald green while the interior petals remained unchanged. “Hopefully you know how to do more than just square-dancing, farm boy,” She said with a teasing laugh.

He laughed back as they made their way down the stairs and towards the dance floor. “I guess you’re going to have to find out, won’t you?”

“And I intend to,” She mused, turning around to face him as they took the floor.

They danced to quite a few songs, mostly with upbeat tempos, and he managed to keep pace with her the whole time. Keith himself only knew the bare bones in regards to dancing while it seemed that Pidge knew a few more complicated ones. He didn’t step on her feet – thankfully – and he picked up the steps himself relatively quick. She grinned up at him, a natural flush on her cheeks from excitement, and she rested her hands on his shoulders. “You’re pretty good at keeping up,” She mused softly, a slower song starting up and the lights of the castle dimming a bit.

“Well, I’ve always been a bit of a quick study,” He said with a small shrug, settling both hands on her hips. It took all his self control to not let his poker face slip to reveal how much that little contact had his heart racing. “So, all in all, how would you rate this experience?”

“Oh, this has been a total blast! I didn’t realize how much I’d been wanting to have a night to just unwind and have some fun,” She giggled happily.

“Then I guess I can chalk tonight off as a roaring success. Hopefully this makes up a little for your past prom experience,” He mused lightly.

She perked up and raised an eyebrow, a sly grin turning up on her lips. “Oh? I had a hunch you had a hand in this little shindig,”

He darted his eyes to the side sheepishly, feeling heat creep up along his cheeks and neck. “Yeah, well… I wanted to make sure you had a better memory tethered to the idea of prom… And, uh, maybe something else in mind, too,” He grew quiet at the last statement, peering over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t twirling right into another pair of dancers. Not that it would be hard to avoid if they were – given their steady but slow pace – but he figured it would probably kill the mood he was trying for. “Look, I’m just gonna be blunt with you, okay?”

“Blunt is kinda your M.O., but continue,” She teased lightly.

“Thanks,” He chuckled as he pulled her a little closer, “but as I was saying, there was more to my plan than just… Well, showing you a nice time was absolutely the goal. You work so hard as both a Paladin and on your personal projects and you deserve to have an evening to just have a nice time. Aside from having a nice night, though, I had kinda wanted ask you if… Maybe, you’d be interested in… Like, going on a date? Or, rather, a couple of dates? And attaching the title of boyfriend-girlfriend to that...” He trailed off, growing more uncomfortable and uneasy as he spoke. Her eyes were trained on him alone, so sharp and bright, and it made his resolve waver.

He noticed in his peripheral vision that the petals of the flower had changed yet again; the outer petals a light pink while the interior ones were a light purple tint.

“Keith Kogane, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” She asked, her tone playful and the light curve of her lips matching. But her eyes were vibrant and warm with another emotion that had his heart skipping beats like a needle on an old record.

“In a way, yes,” He said, trying to coax the same playfulness to his own voice. The effect was lost between his voice cracking at the end as if he was going through puberty all over again.

She hummed and her gaze softened a bit. “It won’t be easy, you know. Between your responsibilities to the Blade and my responsibilities as a Paladin… We’d have to do the long distance thing a lot. And there’s always risks that come with each of our respective duties,” She pointed out, still smiling but a bit more seroius.

Her concerns were absolutely valid and he knew she had a point. “I’d be faithful, and I know you would, too. I’m willing to put in the effort for a shot at something more between us because I believe that you’re worth it. If you think it’d be worth it, then I’d be willing to give it everything I have,” He said, growing more serious himself. A small voice in the back of his mind wondered if Lance had noticed him make his move and told Beezer to keep the music slow, as it shifted to another slower ballad.

She nodded her head a bit, seeming to ponder over his words. Her gaze never faltered from his and slowly she leaned a bit closer, her arms tightening around his neck. “If you hadn’t asked right now, I totally would have cornered you and asked myself, just so you know,” She mused lightly.

“Oh really?” He chuckled lightly, feeling the tension release from him.

“I had a plan, too. I was thinking that a picnic on one of the moons of Arus would be good,” She mused lightly.

“We could always do that still. Kolivan gave me some time off for this prom so I’ll be around for a bit,” He pointed out. While a part of him said that he shouldn’t misuse the time off Kolivan allotted him, another part of him told him to take advantage of the fact his superior had little knowledge of what exactly a prom entailed.

Her grin became a bit more mischievous. “Oh really? Well then, I guess your tail is gonna be all mine until Kolivan whines about needing you back. Hope you’re ready to party with your girlfriend, Kogane,” She purred softly with a grin.

He grinned back and hummed happily, shifting one hand up to offer to her. She took it and let her head settle on his shoulder, releasing a contented sigh. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “I like the sound of that,” He mused happily, basking in the moment.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

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x-irememberyearsago-x · 8 years ago

Text

What’s wrong with me?– Jeff Atkins x Reader

Request: Can I request a Jeff imagine me where he's been asking you out for a while now and you always turn him down? So one day you hear him talking to clay about how it's actually starting to hurt him a bit cuz what's wrong wit him? And his jock buddies give him shit and tease him about which upsets him so you shock all of them by going up and kissing him which leads to a hot makeout and ask him on a date.

Words: 2703

Enjoy it!

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I smiled looking at myself through the rearview mirror. I loved when my mom had the day off, that meant I could get the car to school, save me the monotonous and disgusting bus rides. It isn’t as if my mother went out to have fun, her days off from work, she is doing yoga in front of the TV, it wasn’t too much that the "coach" was too attractive. I shivered and concentrated on the road, until that point I was already entering the Liberty High parking lot. The disadvantage of bringing the car is that I mistrusted and was late, something that wouldn’t happen if I were traveling in the yellow device. Now finding a parking lot would be a challenge.

After a full turn, I finally find a decent place, not so far but not so close to the door, perfect. Before maneuvering to enter that space, a car closed the way and got into MY place. I stepped on the brakes and glared at the bold. I knew the car perfectly. Instead of staying there, I found another place to two cars away, from that to stay grumbling. Yes, I was too lucky.

"Are you serious, Atkins?" I raised my voice after getting out of the car and hanging my backpack over my shoulder.

Jeff was walking toward me with a big smile and fiddling with the keys of his carriage. Asshole.

"This becomes a danger zone every morning, Y/L, you would know if you brought your car every day"

"Funny"

I started to walk with him to my side. We were in the same course, connected in our first year, we were good friends, maybe I could even consider him my best friend, it's not like I had many in high school. Most were either useless sportsmen, or just people who weren’t worth it. He was taking me with a few, especially since Jeff was very close to them, almost entering his social circle. They were not bad guys, but somewhat immature for my taste. Sometimes they made me laugh.

"So I heard that this new movie will be on Saturday ... Let's go together?"

Yeah, we were good friends though Jeff was determined to change that. My friend was attractive, too much to admit, but my mind was somewhere else to focus on a boyfriend. In addition, our friendly relationship worked perfectly, we sometimes studied together, I was going to see him at his baseball games, and I even stayed after school with him and Clay for his tutorials. I could come and go as often as i wanted and he did that too. We were perfectly fine, why did we need a label? What if "being dating" didn’t work? All those years of friendship would go away. Just to think about my last months in this institute without the company of my best friend, to be avoiding it by the corridors and to meet us in uncomfortable looks, left me the sensation to be without air. No, I wouldn’t let him lose it for a silly etiquette.

"How on a date?" I remembered that I hadn’t answered him.

I turned to look at him and he smiled in embarrassment. Jeff Atkins was never embarrassed. He was the most honest and funny guy on the whole site. If I didn’t know Clay Jensen, I would sign with blood that Jeff was the only one. Everyone else behaved more like idiots.

"Yes?" His answer sounded more like a question. Well, he left the decision to me again.

I sighed and settled the backpack as a reflex act.

"You did a good swing, Atkins, but I'm sorry to say you got a strike"

He raised his eyebrows and I smiled, wanting to erase the rejection I had given him. It hadn’t been the first, but sometimes I felt like the bad in this relationship. Our "dates" were reduced to exits between friends, and that was because I was in charge of enlisting Sheri with us and him, usually Clay. At one time, we invited Hannah, but lately she was walking in her own world, feeling the tension only to approach her. Too bad, it turned out to be a really fun girl.

I increased my pace. We didn’t have to stay together in the hall, our first period was different, while he was killing himself in history, I had to endure the headache of algebra. I also needed help but no one threatened to get me out of a team simply because I didn’t belong to any. That was how it was.

"Are you serious?" The good thing about my best friend is that he took rejections with grace. "You are very rude to me, Y/N!"

"I see you at rest!" I shouted at him in response and unconsciously stepped up. I never let him see guilt in me after an Olympic rejection.

At lunchtime, we took our usual table; Clay kept his eyes on his task that ignored our mini meal fight between Jeff and me. He made me eat one of his fries, but they were too greasy for my liking. Thanks to that, we didn’t go unnoticed, neither by his companions as for the rest of the school. Suddenly, I noticed how his teammates were passing by and said things to Jeff that I couldn’t grasp, used as keys that I didn’t understand. I looked at Jeff who looked down for a few seconds before turning to see me and smiling as if nothing.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing." He grabbed his backpack and stood up. "See you after school, Jensen?"

For the first time, Clay looked up and nodded. Jeff said goodbye to both of us and left in the opposite direction to his companions, I frowned even confused; it was incredible how my friend's mood changed in a few seconds. I bit my lip and pushed aside my tray of food, strangely I was without appetite.

"What's wrong with Jeff?" I asked. Clay knew him as well as I did.

The boy shrugged and looked in the direction where our friend had disappeared. I said goodbye to Clay, especially since I had just seen Hannah Baker enter the cafeteria. Jeff and I had a plan, before we graduated, we had to get these two to have something. They were too shy to approach the one and the other that we decided to intervene, rather I joined the cause, because it was a kind of deal between the two men. However, it was difficult, I was going to take care of Hannah, but she was very distant, I couldn’t approach. I sighed and left the cafeteria. I'd waste my time in the locker.

I doubted if it would be a good idea to interfere with the tutoring hours of my friends, I don’t know what was different now, if I always did, but my best friend's behavior was too strange after the cafeteria. It made me panic to approach him. Among my doubts, I ended up in the school library, if I wandered around maybe in the end would encourage me to approach your table. I ended up on one of the closest shelves, Jeff and Clay seemed to be talking about something that didn’t look like tutorials since neither of them looked at their respective books. I went a little closer, covering my face with a book chosen at random. I pretended to read it.

"Jeff Atkins, asking me for advice on relationships?" I listened to Clay with humor. "The deal was supposed to be that you would help me with it, not the other way around." I lowered the book a little to notice my best friend with his eyes on Pencil playing between his fingers. I went back to cover "I was paying my salary in the Cresmont that you would never go through this"

I bit my lip, afraid to know now what they were talking about, or rather ... of whom. I repressed the book down again.

"I don’t know what else to do, dude." Jeff's voice broke my heart, but why? "She's not like the other girls I've dated, it's a challenge, but not that kind of challenge." I started to consider whether it was a good idea to stay or not to listen, but my feet were stuck.

"Don’t stop trying" Clay encouraged.

"I don’t do it. I invite her to go out and it is always the same result: No. “I fear that someday she will get tired and send me to the devil"

My blood ran cold. They had not yet pronounced my name but knew perfectly well that they were talking about me. My hands began to tremble.

"I don’t think so. You two make a good team. It's hard to see a Jeff without Y/N, or a Y/N without a Jeff" I glanced over and watched my friend smile. I did too. It was true; we could complement us in an incredible way.

I watched Jeff's profile, again thinking away from his friendship, made me feel short of breath. I couldn’t imagine my life without having met him; he managed to understand me, my problems, my follies and occasionally my pessimism. The random memory hit me on a Saturday that taught me to hit, I could feel his body on my back and his arms around mine, even his hands on mine to help me hold the bat well. It had felt good, I didn’t have the imperative need to get away like when Bryce Walker tried to get too close to me. That guy gave me a very bad spine. Instead, with Jeff, I sometimes needed to have him close to feel that I breathe well, that everything is going its natural course. There was no Y/N Y/L without a Jeff Atkins, it couldn’t, and there was no consistency. It was like going against nature. My heart sped up and I hid my face again between the pages.

"Clay. What is wrong with me?" I had a gasp, only a few verbal rejects, at no time I distanced myself from him, after my negatives we were as normal as ever. Nothing had changed. I had the need to jump and give him a zap, Nothing was wrong with you, Atkins, you're amazing, the best guy I've ever met! But I stood still with the lump in my throat.

"Nothing, dude. Let's go back to your history essay, you need to distract your mind"

I listened as he agreed to the idea and I moved from shelf to the place where they didn’t see me. I put my hand to my chest and inhaled deep breaths. Why did i feel like crying? Maybe because Jeff didn’t notice the way I did, what could be wrong with him? He was a committed boy, especially now that his position in the team depended on his qualifications, attentive, pleasant, he isn’t of those who believed in rumors ... and above all, he was an excellent friend of Clay and mine. How could there be anything wrong with that? Why cann’t you see yourself as I see you? I bit my lip.

"I saw you" Jessica came out of nowhere and gave me the shock of my life. She started laughing "Spying on people's conversations? That's too much for you”

I rolled my eyes.

"I guess I couldn’t help it," I murmured.

"I heard them, too. I've never seen Jeff that way; he always has a smile on his face."I nodded to the cheerleader's words. Suddenly, she started to laugh "Don’t you realize, Y/N?" I looked at her strangely "He's in love with you! The whole institute knows this, obviously everyone, except you"

"We are good friends"

"So? That doesn’t take away the feelings, the question here is, Are you in love with him? "

I was silent, I opened my mouth to answer her but I couldn’t, Why couldn’t I? I should deny it, but why didn’t i? Jessica Davis smiled.

"Do I confess something?" I waited quietly. "The way you look at Jeff, is the same way I look at Justin. Think about it. "She winked at me before leaving.

If my best friend's words had left me frozen, Jessica's words hit me. I looked over my shoulder toward the boys' table, was I in love with my best friend? As I would know, I had never fallen in love with anyone in my life.

I ran as if my life depended on it to the baseball field, simply because my friend's fool had forgotten his bat in the car and I as a good person i was, and because I knew the combination of his locker to get the keys, I did him the favor. Anyway, at home I was expecting some of those Mom’s smooth naturist, I wasn’t very excited to return soon. Before giving me sight in front of the team, I heard the boys howling and booing. I stopped and looked out, Jeff was in front of them, pretending to have difficulty raising the zipper of his sweatshirt. As I perceived quickly, they were making fun of him.

"Give it up at once, Atkins." One of them said. I frowned. "You're losing your good reputation for just one girl"

Not again, please. I pressed the bat in my hands.

"Let go and pass her, I assure you that I get an appointment with her long before you," another of his classmates boasted. I was getting angry.

How could it be that they messed with him for some nonsense? I was nothing special, why did they all talk as if I were some sort of trophy? I looked at Jeff, he was still focused on his feigned task, but the gesture on his lips told me that he was having a bad time, so I got sick, it couldn’t be that my fear of losing him by spoiling everything with a label, So much harm to him. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t cry, instead, I smiled and walked resolutely towards them.

"Eh!" Shouted one of them with joy.

I didn’t look at any of them, my eyes were on my best friend's, wanting to pretend he was more than okay. I didn’t stop until I felt my lips against his. I dropped the bat to our side and wrapped my fingers in his hair pulling him closer to me. His response, in the first place, was that his mouth was sealed by surprise, when he caught what was happening, he joined the same rhythm as me, bringing his hands to my waist. I didn’t part until the shouts of joy of his companions became present.

"Damn!" I recognized the voice of the one who at the beginning bet that I would go out with him.

I looked into Jeff's eyes and smiled broadly. This kiss, which at first wanted to taste something, simply felt good. I began to feel that I was complete, even though I thought I had been before.

"I thought better, why wait until Saturday? Let's have a date now." My best friend's eyes shone, I felt an extreme happiness inside, not for him, for me. "Oh, better, did you tell me that your parents are not going to be home all day? How about a bit of Netflix and chill? "

His friends laughed, he too, but a little more shy.

"Come on." He took my hand firmly.

"Boys" I gave a single glance at their companions, they began to cheer and push, like vile apes.

I laughed and looked back. When we lost sight of the team, Jeff stopped and looked at me even in shock.

"You were serious?"

"About the kiss or Netflix and chill?" I couldn’t stop smiling.

"Both of them"

"Now I know that I'm sure of the kiss" I bit my lip "Of the other, of course I was serious, a little more seriously in the chill part"

Jeff's smile was the biggest i had ever seen. My heart skipped a beat.

"Then I drive. Later we'll get back for your car"

#13 reasons why #13rw #13rwedit #13rw spoilers #13rw fanfiction #thirteen reasons why #one shot #jeff atkins one shot #jeff atkins x reader #jeff atkins imagine #clay jensen #jeff atkins #jessica davis #liberty high school #13rw imagine #13 reasons why imagine

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