I originally wrote this for ShuAke Week which was, uh, months ago...but I'm really bad at time management so y'all are getting it now ;D I just have a lot of feelings about rivals and the emptiness of accomplishing something you thought you wanted, and...well. Here we are.

"I hate you."

Every word is a lie and every word is the truth, and Akechi can't reconcile the two. He knows better. He knows his plans; he's been building to this for years, and he's not going to throw it away now.

･x･x･x･x･x･

"—yes, of course sir, I'm sorry—"

The highest of highs comes crashing down around him, faster than he's prepared for, faster than anyone could be, and Akechi stands in the hall, phone still pressed against his ear. How long does the dial tone ring for before he finally hangs up? He doesn't know.

He doesn't know how to fill the empty cavern in his chest now that he's destroyed—

･x･x･x･x･x･

His apartment is dark and empty and impersonal and that doesn't matter. Why bother with needless sentimentality? It's somewhere to sleep.

Why—

Why is his brain so fucked up? He won. He defeated his rival and the Phantom Thieves all at once, and it put his plans back on track. He's one step closer to the finale; he pulled off every subtle lie and delicately balanced detail, and now—

Now—

Now, no one cares.

He did it all and Shido brushed him off like an annoying bit of trash stinking up his afternoon. Akechi is the reason for his success and Shido sees him nothing but a tool to be put away when he's done, no matter how much he does. This was supposed to be enough! This was supposed to win him Shido's unwavering trust and approval but instead—

Instead, he's empty.

The bright red of his phone screen illuminates the room and his finger finds his text history with Kurusu before he can stop himself. There's months of conversations back and forth with invitations to hang out peppered throughout, each one a clear memory of time they spent together. But there's no Kurusu left to text, because he killed the only person who truly seemed to understand him.

Akechi leans back, staring at the ceiling. He hates Shido more than anyone or anything in this world, and he will destroy him. Nothing is more important.

But—

Akira never looked at him like a monstrous tool or a plastic celebrity; he just saw him, and Akechi should have known that nothing that nice could ever last.