Title: choices
Prompt: Don't make me talk about it, I wouldn't know the words
Character/Pairing: Mitsuru, Akihiko
A/N: Takes place post-series (after the Answer). I love these two so much.
Summary: She couldn't hide from him, not really.
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"You don't normally come up here," Akihiko stated as he closed the roof door behind him. It shut with a soft click, the metallic sound hidden by the noise of the city. Of the living. The sky above him was clear, almost as clear as it was that night, the first night they found out about his abilities.
"You almost never skip boxing practice," Mitsuru countered as she leaned against the rail, turning back to look at him. In the dim light, he could make out the playful smile on her lips. "It's a night of rarity."
It was nearly enough to trick him. She even had a teasing lit to her voice. But he's known her for years and it was easy to see the cracks in her expression, the chinks in her armour.
She might be a great liar, but Mitsuru's honest streak almost always got the better of her.
"It's a little later than we planned, but we are moving out tomorrow," he replied, approaching the rails next to her. Ahead of him spread the city, a creature of light and shadow. He'd miss this view. "I wanted to say goodbye to the place."
Mitsuru snorted; a rare, inelegant move for her. He could picture the wry look on her face without turning around. "You didn't want to before."
"I didn't," Akihiko admitted, turning back to face her. "But down there…"
It was hard to explain what he felt in that frozen world, that endless desert of doors. He hadn't thought he'd use his persona again, or to fight shadows with only his friends and his fists to keep him safe.
He hadn't realized just how much he'd miss it, that connection that forced them together. Especially now, after seeing how easy it was for them to fall apart.
"I realized I was just running away," he finally finished, closing his eyes. He could just picture that last battle, that final glimpse of a friend long gone. "I didn't want to think about anything."
Guilt. Regret. Even now he still felt it.
"Me too," Mitsuru admitted quietly and he opened his eyes at the unexpected words. He normally had to drag it out of her. She sighed softly. "I didn't want to make a choice and let Yukari do it for me."
They stood there in silence. An admission, the reveal of vulnerabilities. And yet, somehow, he was sure this wasn't the root cause of her problems.
"That's not it, though." He had never been good with words like Mitsuru was. Like her rapier, she had grace, her words sharp and precise. His were the blunt force of a punch, making up for finesse with straight forward honesty. "Why are you up here, Mitsuru?"
Mitsuru looked at him for a long moment. He stared back, unflinching, and she broke into a depreciative laugh. "How do you always know? Even when we were fighting for the key…" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "I can't really hide from you."
She had been so cocky when they had first met. Confident, strong, but distant—he remembered the sight of her back more than anything in those early days when she led him and Shinji in midnight battles. That much hadn't changed even now, years later when lying had become second nature.
She was always within reach but still so far.
"I won't let you," he softly muttered under his breath.
She didn't seem to hear him, twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers as she mulled over her thoughts. "It…It was strange, seeing him again."
"Him?"
"Father," she clarified, leaning against the rail. "I didn't think I could see him again."
"Oh." He hadn't expected that answer.
"He…" Mitsuru paused, as though her next words were too heavy, too painful to release. She took a sharp breath. "We could have saved him."
Her voice cracked, like a bone breaking.
"I could have saved him."
Akihiko stared at her. "How?"
"Metis said we could go back through his door. That door went to the past but it didn't have to open to that day, to that final battle. We could have gone further." Her hands clenched the railing tightly, he could hear her fingers crack. "We could have saved father, even Shinji and Chihiro."
All of a sudden, he couldn't hear anything. Not the distant sound of horns, the heavy rolling of cars, the local train rattling between junctions. It was like being back in the abyss, even the clouds seemed to have stopped at her words.
Shinji. They could have saved Shinji.
Akihiko stared at the city, at the street lights slowly flickering on. He hadn't thought that deeply about changing the past, about exactly what it meant. They had all focused on saving one friend and forgot about the others. They could have saved Shinji. Could have stopped everything months earlier. An alternate world where they all lived and won, where he didn't have to avoid the stairs at the station because it was too close to where Shinji died.
Akihiko leaned against the rails, his shoulders brushing against Mitsuru's. His fingers curled against the rail tightly, disturbed and amazed at the prospect.
"I…I never thought about that."
"Of course you didn't." Mitsuru shook her head, her voice affectionate. "You never would have thought of it. You…you kept running on ahead, even when the rest of us froze." Her right hand squeezed his. "You never look back, it's your best and worst quality."
All too soon, she let go, her hands on the railing once more.
"And you were right." Mitsuru's knuckles turned white, a death grip on the metal railing. "We couldn't open his bedroom door, it would have been like opening pandora's box. Where would it end? We could save Ken's mom, save your sister, stop the experiment—the what if's never stop." Her voice softened, the sound so low he had to strain to hear it. "I shouldn't have thought of it and I couldn't do it, I couldn't choose, I—"
"He'd be proud." Akihiko interrupted, hearing enough.
"What—"
"He'd be proud," he repeated, his hands reaching down to gently uncurl hers. "You've always done the right thing, even when it's hard."
"I…not always. Not even this time, I couldn't choose," she protested.
"Always." He affirmed. "You never would have opened that door."
"How can you be so sure?" she muttered weakly.
"I know you."
Mitsuru leaned against him. He gazed out over the city, ignoring how her shoulders shook, and sharp intakes of air. It was a small mercy, her pride wouldn't allow anything otherwise.
"Thanks."
"You know," Akihiko changed the subject, recalling that short flashback they had in the abyss. "I forgot how smug you were when we first met."
"Smug?" She snorted, wiping her face as she stood up straight. "And you are just as awkward as you were back then."
He couldn't really protest that—the word cute instead of smug had been on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say it aloud. Not to her face at least.
Not yet.
"Ready to head inside?" he asked instead.
Mitsuru smiled broadly, a rare sight. "Stay a little longer, it's a nice night."
When he nodded in agreement, he could have sworn he heard a muffled laugh.