A/N: This was my piece for the How Beautiful the Moon anthology. It's different from how I usually write the characters, and it was a joy to work on-even though I did kind of procrastinate on it and had to rush parts to get it finished by the deadline. Oops.

(Fun fact: on my computer this is saved as 'get it mishi.')

Determined umber eyes searched the impassive expression neutralizing Akira's features. As Mishima observed the unyielding line of the other's mouth and carefully blank gaze, he slowly reached for Akira's cards with his free hand. His other fingers held only one card.

Holding his breath, Ryuji leaned forward from where he lounged at the head of the bed. Although Ann already won one of the hotel room's beds, the anticipation thrumming in the air leaked into her veins as well. She stepped closer until her knees brushed the end of the mattress. Both blonds' attention flicked back and forth between Akira, Mishima, and the cards Akira held.

Then, after several intensely silent moments, Mishima slowly started pulling up one of Akira's cards—before sliding it back down and choosing the one next to it.

The taller male's shocked gasp was drowned out by Mishima's shout of victory. The Phan-site admin threw down his card and Akira's card to show that they indeed matched. "Yes! I get a bed!"

With the tension broken, Ryuji sat back while Ann idly placed her hands behind her. "Man, that was the most serious moment I've ever seen in Old Maid," Ryuji commented.

"Yeah. It's like you knew which one was it, Mishima," Ann observed; she had been watching Akira's cards since she was no longer playing.

Mishima proudly crossed his arms with a grin. "I could tell when I touched the first card that it was the joker. It's just like when Akira and I play video games; he tenses his jaw when he's about to win but is trying to hide it."

"You tricked me, Yuuki," he lightly accused. Akira placed a hand on his chest, as if betrayed, before shuffling his remaining cards. He still had to beat Ryuji, and he hoped if he switched the cards enough the other would forget where Mishima claimed the joker, serving as the old maid, was.

"Yep, and I have a soft bed to show for it." Mishima teased, and he fondly bumped his knee against Akira's.

"And after I let you share a bowl of fruit with me yesterday," Akira playfully huffed.

"I don't think fruit is equal to a bed."

"Not even when I impressed you with my swallowing skills?"

"Akira!" Despite the blush creeping up his neck, he shook his head in amusement. "You were not trying to impress me. You just choked on that pineapple somehow and coughed it back up."

"Wait, I remember that," Ryuji realized. "Didn't you choke when Mishima was re-doing his sunscreen—"

"Okay I give, I give," Akira abruptly insisted. "The bed's yours. But will you at least cover me up when I start to shiver on the cold, hard couch?"

"Nuh-uh," Ann disagreed, placing a hand on Mishima's shoulder. "We're the champions here, and we won every part of these beds. Besides…" she paused, her smile a tad too wide. "All's fair in love and war."

"Who said anything about l-love?" Sheepishness and a layer of uneasiness softened Mishima's tone. Ann and Ryuji both raised disbelieving eyebrow at him.

Akira might have attempted to respond if his heart hadn't lurched at the word "love" leaving Mishima's mouth. And to be fair, with their increased flirting lately, there was no point in denial.

"Wait a minute!" Ryuji frowned. "I just realized; did you say you're getting the couch? No way in hell, man. Let's go."

Resolute on winning the couch, Akira returned his attention to the game.

In the end, Akira smugly won and left Ryuji mourning his bad luck. All four talked for a while after that—but Akira consistently glanced at his phone every half hour. Mishima, too, often used breaks in conversation to check his own device.

Akira knew he couldn't actually do anything Phantom Thief-related while he was here. Instead of allowing him to relax, that knowledge left him on edge. He needed the solid weight of the phone in his hand, needed the affirmation that his life back in Japan was waiting for him. He almost didn't notice when Mishima rose to go to the bathroom, and it was only Ryuji's quick warning not to drink from the faucet that saved Mishima's health.

As they settled down for the night, the curly-haired teenager lay on the couch and set his phone on the armchair.

"…I have an idea."

"Hm?" Akira inquired, looking over at Ann, who sat up on the bed.

"This trip isn't nearly as fun as I expected," she admitted.

"Ain't that the truth," Ryuji grumbled. "Maybe I could talk to the local babes…"

Ignoring him, she raised her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. "I think it's because we've been talking and looking at our phones so much. You know, like we do at home."

"You have a point," Mishima admitted.

"How about we lock our phones up somewhere so we can't get to them? We'll be forced to find something else to do then."

"Lock…them up?" The words struggled to form on his tongue, and he wondered with shame when he had become so dependent on the device. By the astonished looks on Ryuji and Mishima's faces, however, he wasn't the only one.

"But we can't! What if something important comes up?" Ryuji pointed out and, although he didn't explicitly mention the Phantom Thieves, they understood the implication.

"I should really keep watch over the site," Mishima added.

Ann released an exasperated sigh. "I knew you would say that. Look, I don't like the thought of it either, but what if we just did it for tomorrow?"

No one responded, but the reluctance rolling off of them showed in their glancing at their still phones.

"We all deserve a break, guys," she insisted. Despondency flickered in her eyes as she traced mindless circles into the mattress. "Between school and other stuff, we might not be able to do anything like this in a long time."

Ryuji gritted his teeth. "Dammit. You're right. We can't just let this opportunity pass us by!"

"But where could we leave our phones?" Akira questioned. "I don't want to leave them in our hotel rooms."

Ann placed a hand on her chin in thought. "Makoto has a suitcase with a lock on it. We could ask her if we could use it, and since she has to stay outside chaperoning she couldn't look at them either."

"Still, a whole day is a long time," Mishima said.

"It won't feel like it when we're having fun," Ann pointed out, pushing peppiness into her voice.

"I'm down," Ryuji accepted.

Mishima hesitated, but after a bit more convincing he agreed, too.

When they turned to look at Akira, the Phantom Thief leader shoved down the anxiousness building in his chest. His friends deserved to have fun, and if this was the best way to do it, even if it meant leaving his phone...

"All right, let's do it."

The next morning, they found Makoto, who showed befuddlement at the request but accepted nonetheless. At first Akira figured they'd spend the day hanging out on the beach together; however, Ann shot him a wink before pulling Ryuji away toward some free surfing lessons being held on the beach, which left him alone with Mishima.

Neither mentioned the obvious setup as they looked around the beach. There were even more people around than the other day, and the pair had no desire to enter the water with a bunch of people swimming and hitting inflatable balls around. Choosing to find a less busy place, they noticed that much farther down the beach was an outcropping of large rocks. A noisy family of nine left that same area—they must have annoyed away a lot of people if they had been the only people there. Whatever the reason, it allowed Akira and Mishima to find a mostly secluded spot as long as they stood on the other side of the stones.

Upon reaching the shade of a palm tree somewhat near the rocks, Akira reached into the bag and pulled out his glasses case. As he removed his glasses, his surroundings instantly muddled into blurs of colors and indistinct shapes. Only the tree directly beside him, the case, and his glasses were close enough to remain crisp. He rested the frames within the case, snapped it shut, and slipped it back into the bag. After setting the belonging down, he turned around to face the ocean.

Near the shoreline—or rather, where the mass of cream was consistently darkened by formless waves—stood Mishima's form. He waited there until Akira reached him.

"How much can you see without your glasses?" Mishima asked as they strode into the water. An abandoned toy bucket bobbed nearby.

Akira held his arm out to its full length. "I can see close up, but anything past my hand is a blur." Their bodies acclimated to the ocean's slightly cool temperature somewhat quickly with each step. When the water reached Akira's waist, Mishima turned back to him.

"So you can't see this?" He waved a hand just outside of Akira's nearsighted range.

Akira released a breath of amusement. Why did people with perfect vision seem to believe that he simply stopped being able to see anything at a certain point? Sure, the hand was nothing more than a pale blob with extensions, but he could recognize colors.

So instead of answering the question, the Phantom Thief suddenly plunged his hands into the water. "I can see well enough to do this." He thrust his hands upward and splashed water at Mishima's torso.

"Hey!" Mishima protested, but Akira could hear the smile in his voice. When he heard the telltale light splash of the smaller male preparing a counterattack, Akira swiftly turned and dove toward deeper water to avoid.

A gentle roar filling his ears, he continued to hold his breath and twisted his body into a sitting position. As clear as the treated ocean appeared, he spotted no sign of the other's legs or trunks. After a few moments he resurfaced.

His soaked hair now plastered over his closed eyes, Akira started to brush the locks out of his sight–and then water cascading over his head ruined his progress. Behind him he heard Mishima laughing.

"Got you," Mishima, tossing aside a now empty bucket, smugly noted as he moved to Akira's front.

"Yeah yeah," the Phantom Thief couldn't hide his grin as he parted his hair again.

Mishima watched him with curiosity. "You know, I've never seen your hair completely flat before."

"Not many people have, when I think about it." Other than showering, he rarely got his head wet, and he hadn't bothered straightening it in years. "I used to straighten it in middle school because I hated the curls. It was too much of a hassle though, so I stopped."

"Your hair is so cool though! It's different, and….fits you." Growing flustered at his sudden admittance, he changed the subject. "Reminds me of how I used to wear extremely baggy clothes."

"Why?" Akira saw nothing Mishima needed to hide; then again, if anyone were to ask him if the smaller male had any physical flaws, he knew he couldn't think of a single response.

"My hips are kind of…wide. For a guy." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Some people started commenting on it in middle school, and it took me a while to realize there were other things I needed to worry about."

A flash of indignation flared within Akira's chest. The other's hips were wonderfully curved and perfect for placing hands on and…shit. Shit, he was staring at Mishima's hips, and he needed to stop that right now before he noticed.

Gracelessly flopping onto his back to float on the water, he chose to conclude the matter with "middle school sucked ass."

Mishima chuckled. "Definitely." After a moment he started floating on his back, too, their arms a mere few inches apart.

Staring up at the sky, Akira marveled at the fuzzy clouds and unidentifiable dark pinpricks that must be birds. The sight reminded him of one of Yusuke's paintings.

Mind shifting to his status as a Phantom Thief, he wondered, not for the first time, what his relationship with the other would be if they were "normal" students. No Metaverse, no Phan-site, just Akira. Was his personality even that interesting? Would his friends grow bored with him? Would Mishima rather be anywhere else but here, basking in the waves beside him?

His chest tightened uncomfortably.

The desire to touch his phone, to see the app that connected him with all those he held dear, caused him to release an unsteady breath. He almost flinched when Mishima tentatively spoke.

"If I wasn't the Phan-site admin, would you still…?" The shorter male stood and shook his head. "Ignore me. That's not fair to ask of you."

Eyes wide with disbelief, Akira got to his feet and faced the other. Mishima was looking off to the side with crossed arms—a closed off stance that revealed his regret.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, a shaky smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're so much braver than me, Yuuki. I couldn't even bring myself to say it."

"Huh?" Sheer confusion made him meet the other's gaze.

"I…I was wondering the same thing. If you would…care about me, if I wasn't…" He trailed off, and a heavy silence grew between them. Then, as if their previously hidden emotions needed to burst forth lest they return to unpleasantness, they both tried to speak.

"I was—"

"You—"

Cutting themselves off, they shared an awkward glance.

"Go ahead," Mishima insisted.

Nodding, Akira took a deep breath. "If I weren't a Phantom Thief…just another average guy, would you still…like me as much as you do now…?"

"You're not average." No hesitation, and the statement was punctuated with his hand gently gripping Akira's hand. "Even without the Phantom Thieves, you're amazing." He bit his lip. "I might not have kept talking to you at first, if it weren't for you dealing with Kamoshida. I don't know what would have happened. Whether I'd have ignored you or been too beaten down to hope for friends…"

"Yuuki…" Akira intertwined his fingers with the other's and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"No. Don't feel sorry for me right now," Mishima adamantly said, his tone sure and more confident than Akira had ever heard it. "What I'm saying is that whatever we would have been in some alternate universe, I do care about you now. And if you stop being a Phantom Thief in this future, then I'll still be here. "

Mishima paused with an apologetic grimace. "But I guess all that makes me sound hypocritical when I was afraid of the same thing."

"No, no, you're right," Akira confirmed. A lightness surged through his heart, alleviating it from all the heavy, dark feelings he had pent up. Without realizing it, he gradually leaned closer, so intent on conveying his response. "You're so, so wonderful and beautiful and strong. You being the admin was what started us out, but whatever happens next, I want to be beside you."

Only after his speech did Akira realize how close he was to the other's flushed face, and heat rushed through his cheeks as well. The clear contours of Mishima's shocked expression contrasted with the blurry landscape behind him, and in that moment Akira decided that he would give up far-sightedness completely if it meant seeing such a striking sight every day.

Then, just as he prepared to move back, Mishima planted a hand on his neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

Elation blossoming from the depths of his soul, Akira returned the gesture, tilting his head and wrapping his arms around the other.

When they parted, they grinned shyly at each other.

"This was not how I expected my confession to go," Akira breathlessly remarked.

Mishima gave an amused huff. "Me either. But I guess now I don't have to ask if you feel the same way."

Aware of the gradual cooling of the ocean and the orange streaking across the horizon, Akira reluctantly released him. "We should get out of the water before it gets cold."

They returned to the palm tree and pulled towels out of their bags. After wiping themselves off and wrapping their respective fabrics around themselves, the taller male put his glasses back on. Hearing the soothing music of a local band near a closed restaurant, they decided to head over and sit on a bench where they could listen. Despite their curfew looming, both were reluctant to return to their room.

Warm in both body and soul, Akira subtly closed the distance between their legs, and his contented smile widened when Mishima leaned against him.