Akira’s expression doesn’t shift as Dove spirals in front of him. He keeps himself hauntingly still, his gaze fixed and distant, like he’s staring past the boy breaking down in front of him. The words time looping and *losing everything* echo in his ears, dredging up flashes from the timeline he’d been peeled from—those endless resets, the ache of watching Goro fall again and again, and the crushing realization that he could never save them both.
"I-"
The memories are too vivid, too close to the surface. They creep in despite his best efforts to suppress them. His body shudders involuntarily, a faint tremor starting in his shoulders and working its way down. He feels the familiar ache—the one that settles deep in his chest whenever he lets himself remember that place.
"...I don't have anything special-"
When Dove’s fist slams onto the counter, Akira’s eyes widen slightly, startled. Not from fear, but from the sheer rebellion in the act—like Dove couldn’t stand the idea of Akira laying himself bare, all his shame and grief open and raw. And somehow, Dove’s refusal to let it go stirs something heavy in him.
He really had been ready to lie.
Ready to deny the tape, brush it off, and pretend none of it mattered because it clearly belonged to someone else. But Dove’s reaction makes the guilt twist harder in his gut.
The words of dismissal die on his lips before they even form.
Instead, he lowers his gaze, hands slipping into his pockets as he speaks, his tone so dark it almost disappears into the air between them.
A weak chuckle that follows cracks painfully at the end. He lifts trembling hands from his pockets and presses them over his face, as if trying to hide the shame etched into every part of him.
After a long, tense silence, Akira drags in a deep breath. Slowly, one hand falls to his chest, pressing firmly against the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. He can feel the outline of the ring—the one he and his Goro had shared in that doomed world. The only piece of that place he’d managed to keep.
But he knows better than anyone that leaving that way isn’t possible here.
When he finally looks up again, his demeanor is darkened, his smile small and brittle. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s the best he can offer.
"Guess my secret’s out now, huh? No more hiding." His tone is flat, almost resigned.
He watches Dove carefully, guilt laced into every word of his next apology.
"I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to see all of that- it must have stressed you out like hell, huh?"
His shoulders sag, exhaustion radiating from every part of him.
no subject
"I-"
The memories are too vivid, too close to the surface. They creep in despite his best efforts to suppress them. His body shudders involuntarily, a faint tremor starting in his shoulders and working its way down. He feels the familiar ache—the one that settles deep in his chest whenever he lets himself remember that place.
"...I don't have anything special-"
When Dove’s fist slams onto the counter, Akira’s eyes widen slightly, startled. Not from fear, but from the sheer rebellion in the act—like Dove couldn’t stand the idea of Akira laying himself bare, all his shame and grief open and raw. And somehow, Dove’s refusal to let it go stirs something heavy in him.
He really had been ready to lie.
Ready to deny the tape, brush it off, and pretend none of it mattered because it clearly belonged to someone else. But Dove’s reaction makes the guilt twist harder in his gut.
The words of dismissal die on his lips before they even form.
Instead, he lowers his gaze, hands slipping into his pockets as he speaks, his tone so dark it almost disappears into the air between them.
A weak chuckle that follows cracks painfully at the end. He lifts trembling hands from his pockets and presses them over his face, as if trying to hide the shame etched into every part of him.
After a long, tense silence, Akira drags in a deep breath. Slowly, one hand falls to his chest, pressing firmly against the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. He can feel the outline of the ring—the one he and his Goro had shared in that doomed world. The only piece of that place he’d managed to keep.
But he knows better than anyone that leaving that way isn’t possible here.
When he finally looks up again, his demeanor is darkened, his smile small and brittle. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s the best he can offer.
"Guess my secret’s out now, huh? No more hiding." His tone is flat, almost resigned.
He watches Dove carefully, guilt laced into every word of his next apology.
"I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to see all of that- it must have stressed you out like hell, huh?"
His shoulders sag, exhaustion radiating from every part of him.