Disclaimer: I do not own the Persona series or any correlating elements.

A/N: Hey everybody! It's been forever since I've updated this story, but I've finally found the time and motivation that I've been looking for. It's a really tricky story to write since both Mitsuru and Shinjiro are both so complex and delicate in their own ways, so I'm really trying to stay true to their characters while also elaborating on what I think might have been possible between them.

Thanks for reading, and please help me out by reviewing and letting me know what you think! You all are awesome :)

o5.

Out in the Open

Poison-flecked swords pointed at him in every direction. Mounds of slime and disease slid towards him, and everywhere he turned, danger and death was imminent.

As Shinjiro closed his eyes to meet the maker of his pain, he heard a low, soft voice whisper in his ear. The hair on his neck standing up, Shiniro tried to warn her. He shoved in every direction and tried to get her away. The slime was inching closer and closer, and he could almost see his reflection in the swords.

But as hard as he pushed, they only came closer, and she only laughed, her sweet scent mingling in with the suffocating stench of pure, utter death.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Shinjiro couldn't take it anymore. He really couldn't.

Every night after his incident in Tartarus, he woke up in complete horror at something he couldn't even remember. Castor just laughed and cackled like the vain, blasted dick that he was, but for an entire, gruesome week, all Shinjiro could do was thrash around restlessly in his bed, afraid to sleep yet unable to control his drooping eyelids. His leg had indeed been severely poisoned, and though he was told he had to rest and that he'd be experiencing sleep disturbances and other various side effects, Shinjiro still knew something wasn't quite right. Also, he knew there was nothing he could do.

Even worse, it seemed, was the fact that the only two people in his life were hardly speaking to him. Immediately after the misinterpretation between Mitsuru and Shinjiro, Akihiko had left the dorms and didn't come back until the following morning. Even though Mitsuru warned him to not leave the premises, of course the cocky asshole did what he wanted anyways, like always.

More troubling, however, was the way Akihiko would look at him. Shinjiro noticed that during the few times their paths crossed, Akihiko would give him the most loathing look Shinjiro had ever seen on his face. It was clearly screaming "fuck you, bastard," but also, it seemed to say so much more. It seemed to say "how could you; why would you," and the more Shinjiro thought about it, the more he realized that there had to be a context for such feelings.

That's certainly what Castor thought, anyway. Something changed with him as well after that night, and though Shinjiro no longer endured those long, gut-wrenching migraines, he now had to deal with Castor's "well-intentioned" advice and insight. He had to hear him say "Akihiko feels betrayed because he thinks you took Mitsuru from him; Akihiko feels hurt that you didn't tell him that you have feelings for Mitsuru."

Feelings – what a thought. As if. That was completely insane, and Shuinjiro wouldn't stand for it. Sure Mitsuru was beautiful, intelligent, gracious, ferocious and grand in every possible way, but that didn't mean he had to flipping have "feelings" for her, whatever the hell "feelings" are. Sure he may have thought some inappropriate things about her when he was drunk, but who wouldn't? Any guy in the world would do the same kind of thing; any person wouldn't make a big deal about it.

Then why do you care so much that Mitsuru hasn't said more than a few necessary sentences to you?

Shinjiro flinched, but he shook himself and tried to ignore it.

Why does your heart start to race when you see her walk into the dorm? Why do you hold your breath when she drops off your breakfast and medicine in the morning? Why do you secretly wish she would stay after giving you your homework?

Again, complete nonsense. The ignorant fuck didn't know what he was talking about. He was just making shit up.

One day, however, Shinjiro found himself even more absorbed in the concept. Mitsuru had returned from school earlier than usual, and her hair was weighed down from the rain. Glancing outside one of the lounge windows, Shinjiro saw that indeed it was pouring, and turning to look back at Mitsuru, he saw that she looked positively drained.

"You all right?"

He didn't know what made him say it. Cursing inwardly at himself, he couldn't believe how stupidly careless he could be; he couldn't believe how inconsiderately naïve he could be.

But to his surprise, Mitsuru actually looked over at him. A raindrop spilled from the collar of her uniform, and her amber-brown eyes were staring at him intently, seeming to calculate and measure his words or his sincerity, or both.

"I know we haven't talked lately," Shinjiro continued, not really knowing where the words were coming from, "but you can still always talk to me, you know. I mean, I'm not exactly going to tap dance my way out of here at the moment."

Again, Shinjiro was surprised as Mitsuru actually gave him a tiny smile. Dazed, he merely looked at her, wondering what was going on. She had to be really, really upset to be smiling in light of all this goddamn strange hostility.

"So… You gonna sit down or keep freaking me out?"

Slowly, it seemed, Mitsuru made her way over to the armchair perpendicular to Shinjiro. She sat down and then crossed her legs, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I'm sorry that I've been so distant lately," she finally said. Shinjiro's mouth fell open, and he noticed how tired and weary her face appeared to be. "I'm just very confused and displaced at the moment. And honestly, I was upset that you were so cold and indifferent to me after all these months of our getting to know each other."

Confused? Displaced? Getting to know each other? For once, Shinjiro didn't know how to make the situation any lighter or any different. All he could do was stare at her, his black eyes locked within the pits of her shimmering amber-brown.

"What are you confused about?"

Silence met his question, as Shinjiro had expected, but it didn't last terribly long. "Akihiko, as I'm sure you've noted."

Just who was this girl? Leaning back slightly, Shinjiro marveled at how keen and accurate Mitsuru was in regards to how everyone was feeling. It was like she knew all along and was just now putting all of the pieces into the open.

"Well… What about him?"

"Don't pretend that you don't know." Mitsuru's voice turned harsh, and her eyes seemed to darken a little. "He's been acting like a child this past week, ignoring my calls, acting as if I don't exist, neglecting Tartarus, and treating you like a piece of vile."

She noticed, then? Did she see those masks of spiteful betrayal as well?

"I guess I can't really blame him," Shinjiro said, moving his hand to scratch his head. This was gonna be awkward. "I mean, it did look pretty incriminating, and, well, you know what it's like with you two."

At this, Mitsuru brought her legs down and then leaned forward, her eyes now wide and, shockingly, almost vulnerable. "But that's just the thing, Shinjiro." He gulped as she used the intimacy of his first name. "I don't know what it's like between the two of us. If I did, wouldn't I have been able to say the right things to him? Wouldn't there not even be an issue right now?"

Damn, this was hard. Castor gave a little howl, and Shinjiro realized that they were getting dangerously close to what he and his persona had been fighting about the past few days.

But sitting there with Mitsuru, who was completely different and even possibly weak in some way, Shinjiro didn't want to completely shut this down. As awkward as it was for him, he had told her that he was there to talk, and how good of a teammate would he be if he threw her to the wind after things got a little bit weird for him?

"Maybe that's the problem," he replied, trying to sound all thoughtful and shit. "Maybe you don't really know how you feel about him."

Taking in his words, Mitsuru nodded slightly and then sat back herself, her hand draped along the arm of the armchair. "On the contrary, I think I know exactly how I feel."

Here it came. Cracking a knuckle, Shinjiro prepared himself for the blow. Mitsuru was going to go on about how she's irrevocably in love with Akihiko and how her heart is broken in two now that they're not speaking. She'll rely on Shinjiro for support, and even though she has the Kirijo class to not make it all pitiful and disgusting, she'll still act like a girl and do as girls do, which is make it all uncomfortable and sappy.

"I don't feel that way about Akihiko, and I don't know how to tell him."

The night was already strange, but this was probably the peak of all odd things for Shinjiro. He seriously didn't know how much he could handle, and at this he had to move and do something to get away from the complete absurdity.

But as he shifted uncomfortably to his side, he banged his injured leg against the hard surface of the coffee table, and he let out an instinctual cry of pain as his skin seared and as purple crap started oozing out of his leg. Before he could regain his composure, Mitsuru was there, her warm, gentle fingers tenderly moving along his wound and resetting all the bandages and medicine. Her hair swayed and Shinjiro could pick up a trace of that lilac perfume he always liked.

"I can't believe how utterly senseless I'm being," she murmured, double-checking that everything was as it should have been. "I'm sitting here rambling about my feelings while you're still recovering and suffering from pain. I don't know what came over me."

She finished by looking over at him, and as she did so, Shinjiro took in the genuine rage and frustration that her face exuded. She was undoubtedly angry, and amidst her anger and her helplessness over her feelings and relationships, she still looked so goddamn beautiful. She was still watching him and she was still fairly close, and Shinjiro watched her eyes flicker back and forth along the lines of his face.

"Are you still in pain?" she asked, leaning in closer to peer at his face. "I know it's hard to gauge how effective your treatments have been, but is there anything that I can get for you?"

Just do it. Shinjiro felt Castor rustle around within him, bearing his own impatience. It's now or never. Just do it.

Normally, Shinjiro would never be game to agree with his twisted, blood-sucking persona, but without fully comprehending why, he had a feeling that Castor was right.

As Mitsuru lingered right in front of him, searching for a sign on what she should do, Shinjiro cupped her face with his hands and then pressed his mouth against hers, feeling how soft and moist her lips were and how warm her tongue felt.

But most importantly, as this moment stalled and drew itself out, Shinjiro couldn't believe how good he felt inside. He'd never kissed a girl before, and he never realized how slap-happy it could make someone feel and how tantalizing it could be. It was as if he was floating on air and walking amongst the clouds, as cliché as that shit sounds. Shinjiro felt awesome, and though it felt incredibly longer than it was, he never wanted it to end.