Frustration.
Akira knew after his little stunt, he'd have to lay low, and recover.
He just didn't count on just how boring that would be.
Heading out yesterday to the Diet Building had been a godsend, even if each step he took made his leg throb, each breath made his ribs ache, and the cold air made his bruised face sting. He couldn't stay in bed recovering for THAT long before his burning need to act compelled him to get up and get out there.
Although Makoto's ever-constant watch caught the way he favored his good… or at least better leg, the small winces of discomfort at every move, the soft grunts he didn't succeed in suppressing as they moved to guess their way into Shido's palace. She didn't outright express her concerns, but that hesitation to speak her mind stung as much as his chest did.
And then. And then. The bastard practically dropped by on their doorstep, and the unbelievable truth was discovered. That he was the man who got Akira arrested. The reason Akira came to Tokyo in the first place.
If that didn't set his heart ablaze with fury, he didn't know what else would.
If only this damn body could act!
Makoto had tactfully dismissed the team after the discovery was made, allowing the rest of the team to refresh their efforts, her intense eyes always keeping Akira in her sights during the whole exchange. He had been trembling with rage.
That anger felt good for now, the injured young man directing that at the pain in his body as he redressed some bandages. It was only a couple days after the police interrogated him, and while the bruising was going down the soreness was still ever present. Hissing at his cracked ribs, Akira let his emotions consume the discomfort as he applied fresh tape.
"I figured that still stung."
Akira's eyes blazed in annoyance for a moment before he caught himself, turning to see Makoto wince at the look but not back down. "Makoto… didn't hear you come up." He mumbled, looking away in a bit of shame at his display. His girlfriend's expression softened as she took some steps closer to him.
"I wanted to check up on you." She began, nearly red eyes staring into his grey. He tried to mask himself from the tempest of emotion surging through him, but Makoto's been growing more and more skilled at seeing through him. He'd certainly fail at hiding this much.
It still took a moment for his stubborn hold to break under her caring but stern gaze, though. "I wish I could say it's nothing." He relented, bitterness coating his words. She nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bed. "Oh? What are we~" He teased in a bemused voice, still able to be a bit flirty despite his inner torrent.
"Akira." She cut him off. Her tone made him cringe, the young woman not playing around. Makoto climbed onto the bed. "Lay down. Rest your head here." She prompted in a maternal voice, stern yet loving. Akira found himself complying, a smidgen of embarrassment mixing in with his turmoil. His head found her lap, soft and warm. Her fingers found his hair, nails lightly scratching against his scalp. "Talk to me. Let it out." She prompted in a quiet voice.
He wanted to argue. He wanted to keep it hidden, within himself, to prevent the weight from burdening anyone else. This anguish was his and his alone to bear.
But her lap felt so comforting… so secure.
Taking off his glasses and covering his eyes with an arm, he let himself sort out the fire within.
"That man…. Ruined me." He growled darkly.
The stroke of fingers slowed a moment, then resumed their patterns, coaxing out more.
"The days after my arrest, everything crumbled away. Everyone cut ties. Every place I felt their stares. I lost it all. Didn't have all that much, but still." Akira shared, allowing his eyes to dampen. His sleeve caught the salty discharge, hidden from view. "I felt… such shame. Such isolation. Such… helplessness. I became such a burden to my parents. To the people I love. Caused them such suffering, just by existing."
Makoto's face was pained as she absorbed this, the young woman could only imagine the impact that darkness would have on such a caring person like Akira.
"I know if that never happened to me, I'd never have come here. Never would have met you. But when I remembered who he was… When I remembered what he did to me... The months that followed... Makoto… I don't want to just stop him. I want him to suffer. Like Futaba had. Like Haru had. Like I had." He confessed, ashamed. "It makes me feel so ugly inside…"
She hummed, her soft scratches soothing his boiling aches. "It's completely natural. Let it burn. Let it burn itself out." Makoto cooed softly in a whispered voice.
"He did this. He did this to me. I don't want justice, I want vengeance and that hurts. Everything hurts." Akira trembled, the soreness of his body, the sting of his ribs, the ache in his bones, the acid in his heart leaving him in a shameful mess as his sleeve grew wetter and wetter.
"It'll be okay… it's okay… let it out…" Makoto whispered, her own heart heavy with the suffering Akira was enduring. Still, part of her felt honored to be able to support him like this, allowed in to help heal his soul.
Akira's breath was heavy, trembling as he held back the worst of the sobs. A steady thin stream of tears seeped their way out, the young man accepting a bit of disgrace for being this way in front of Makoto for the relief of letting the pressure on his heart trickle free. Makoto continued to stroke, reassuring him with sweet nothings, patiently waiting for him to process the swirl of negativity.
Slowly, eventually, he felt the weight of his emotions subside. Lift. Evaporate. The dark urges flaring out to cinders. His breathing returned to normal, and he let out a final sigh to announce his recovery. Makoto shifted, allowing him to sit up.
"Better?" She prodded gently, hopefully. Akira gave her a sad smile.
"I'm… so grateful for you." He chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"I'm honored to have helped." She replied, her eyes sparkling.
They slowly leaned in and kissed, the soft touch of their lips expressing the strength of their shared bond.
"It's getting late. I want to stay but…"
"It's okay. Go. I'm in no shape to deal with your sister." Akira joked, Makoto giving a soft giggle.
She gave him one last squeeze of the hand. "We're all here for you." She reminded, Akira giving a nod.
"I know. Thank you. I'll be good for tomorrow."
"We're going to get this guy."
"I know."
She gave him a warm smile as she descended the stairs. "See you. Take care."
Akira's hand was still raised in goodbye as he watched her go, the young man reflecting on his fortunes. All the troubles and tribulations he's endured seemed so much easier with Makoto by his side. He let himself redress, the chill in the room reminding him that he was interrupted redressing his ribs, before laying back on his bed. The soft patter of paws announced Morgana's return.
"Hey there Akira. Hey, you doing okay?" The creature pondered casually, Akira giving a chuckle as he assessed the lightness in his chest.
"Much better." He grinned, the warmth of Makoto still against his lips and in his heart.
(A/N: Even though the P5 protagonist was the most expressive and emotive of the silent protagonists, I feel he could have had a lot more opportunity for scenes like this. The post-interrogation is such a ripe fertile field to plant ideas in, I've already read so many delicious fics revolving around Akira's recovery during this time. I enjoyed contributing my own flavor to the mix! Might miss the next two prompts though, don't have any good ideas and I really want to polish the last day's.)