(Cover photo by barleytea on tumblr)
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It's evening, and the first time Akihiko's seen him since the incident four days ago.
From the back, Shinji casts a shadow, long and narrow against the alleyway filth. His familiar coat is shaggy, ragged, and every bit covered in grime. He's skinnier, more hunched over, every bit smaller than Akihiko's ever seen him. And he's sure weight isn't the only thing he's lost. His steps form a prowl, like a predator on its own turf, and something about how confident Shinji seems in the dark alleys sickens him.
Akihiko swallows. His feet urge him forward with a will of their own, trailing behind Shinji, but his mind hasn't yet figured out what to do or to say.
It's then that the self-assured footsteps ahead halt. Akihiko and his heartbeat stop along with it. He watches, breathless, as Shinji casually throws a glance over his shoulder. The fading rays of light in the distant sky outline every perfect inch of his face in profile, every perfect inch of what was once Akihiko's.
His stomach is hatching butterflies as he looks at him, just looks at him, and he's too scared to say anything because if he opens his mouth they'll come soaring out of him in a thousand technicolors.
Shinji watches him, whatever thoughts he has unspoken. Akihiko meets his eye, that burning point, fuelling fires of emotions he can't decipher. In them, he sees a flicker of Castor, and he looks away.
"Well?" Shinji says, and his voice is just as Akihiko's ever known, and he hasn't changed at all, so dammit, dammit, why can't he just come back, accidents damned to hell?
"How..." he trails off. "How did you know i was following you?" he can barely hear himself croak, and why does he have to be so weak right when it counts the most?
Shinji cocks an eyebrow in disbelief, but from beneath the jacket, Akihiko can make out a faint smile. Shinji scoffs and pivots around to face him. He's not smiling anymore, his face a harsh slate, like Akihiko's never seen him, and yet he feels that this expression would be the new normal. It sends a cold sweat down his back as he stands face to face with him.
He looks at Shinji, memorizing each and every detail. His wide shoulders are rough edges against the blazing hues of the setting sun. His beanie hangs loosely on his head, unkempt hair falling into his eyes. The contours of his body are lined a rich gold in the fading light, the sides of his face lit up by the very same rays.
And his eyes, in his eyes Akihiko sees flames, emotions, castor, and reflected in them, his own scared face, wide eyes, longing, Polydeuces reaching. Reaching.
This is it. This is his chance to bring him back home, to set things right.
"Shinji," he says, and his voice is strong. "You don't have to do this anymore. It's time to come home."
Akihiko Sanada's seen a lot of things up until now. His parents had died, leaving him alone to take care of his sister as children. Then, his sister, sole family, had died in the fire. A part of himself had died the day he first summoned his Persona, the day he'd first experienced the Dark Hour, fought the shadows. And half of him had died again the day of Shinji's accident.
But it's that night, in the fading light of an alleyway, that he learns the meaning of sorrow.
