Just another one-shot my brain spit out. I haven't really been able to focus on anything lately...
He'd always hated the sound of a woman crying. It brought him back to the day his father had died, protecting him and his mother from a deranged man who had broken into their house to hide from the MWPSB agents pursuing him. His father, gentle but firm as always, had ordered the man to leave, saying it didn't matter where he tried to hide, his tainted Psycho-Pass would always lead the police right to him. The pounding on the door had sounded soon after, the demand he come out with his hands up.
His father had been standing in front of him and his mother, huddled together against the living room wall, when the man had suddenly lunged at him, his already-bloodied knife raised over his head. A well-known lightweight on the boxing circuit, they had all been sure he'd subdue the man, only to have his subclavian artery nicked as he'd countered a blow from the man's fist. Kougami could still hear his mother's anguished shout, see his father falling just as their front door had slammed open. That was the first time he'd seen a Dominator's work up close, the day he'd decided what path his life was going to take.
He followed the soft sounds of sobbing to a conference room, opening the door to see her curled up in the corner, her back to the room. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him.
"Tsunemori?"
She gave a choked gasp, turning her tear-streaked face toward him. She was even paler than usual, her puffy eyes blood-shot, cradled by large, dark circles. Her vacant gaze cleared slightly when she saw him; she turned away just as quickly.
"I'm okay," she muttered. He shook his head, striding over and kneeling next to her.
"You don't look okay to me."
He ran a hand through her short hair, limp and slightly greasy. She pushed his hand away, rubbing her eyes roughly with the heels of her palms.
"I was right there," she was talking to herself. "And I couldn't do anything to save her!"
"Oh…"
He knew that's what it was. Over a month had passed since Yuki Funahara's death; Akane had excused herself from the office several times every day since then. He'd come across her before, but she'd always insisted she was fine, that she just needed time alone to think. The stress of holding it in must have finally become too much.
"Come here."
He took her wrist, sitting cross-legged, pulling her into his lap. She froze at the sudden action, then gripped his shirt, burying her face in his shoulder.
"It's okay," he muttered soothingly. He wasn't exactly sure what had prompted him to hold her like this, only that a small part of him cheered that he was there when she needed him. He leaned back against the wall, his arms wrapped loosely around her. It felt like hours had passed before her cries finally died down, becoming breathless, hiccuping sniffles. She looked up at him, her sad eyes questioning.
"I heard you," he said, his hold tightening slightly. "You don't have to keep it hidden."
She weakly shook her head.
"I don't want…anyone to see me like this," she took a deep breath, lowering her voice. "Especially you…"
"What do you mean?" he kept his tone and face flat. She shifted slightly, sniffling again.
"I don't know, I just feel like it would…" she trailed off. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"I won't think differently of you because of this," he said. "You just lost your close friend, it's normal."
She didn't respond, lightly tracing his collar bone. Her soft touch continued upward, along the contours of his throat, before finally settling at the edge of his thin lips. Her eyes glazed over, she pushed herself upward, until her lips had brushed clumsily against his. She seemed dismayed when he didn't respond, pulling back to stare at him.
"K-Kougami…"
She didn't get any further. Going purely by impulse, he'd repeated her earlier action, silencing her with a soft kiss.
"Don't talk," he murmured. He brought her back against his chest, his hold on her slightly tightening. "Just let me hold you."
