Fix it.

So easy to say, so hard to do. The restlessness won't solve itself, so he spends the evening in his room, training until he's out of strength to move. Perhaps exhaustion will keep the dreams away, it certainly lets the thoughts unlatch from his mind and float away like bubbles.

The night is a black hole of emptiness but it ends all too quickly, his body hardwired to wake at dawn. He half-zips a hoodie and puts his shoes on, a run might do him some good. For once, he pockets the music player on his desk and jams the buds in, anything to drown out the constant buzz that's plaguing his head.

The clouds are menacing outside. Akihiko raises his cowl and just starts running, rolling out the kinks in his joints. Streetlights change from red to green, cars are few and far between and he makes good time on one of his longer routes, spurred on by the rhythmic beats.

He still hasn't found the words, or how he'll tell them. Maybe he never will. But he must try, for her sake. She deserves it, if only to rekindle the crushed girl Mitsuru was comforting yesterday. The image of a subdued Minako is still haunting him like a phantom.

Fix it.

In the end, maybe it's not so much about his guilt than preserving her. He's been guilty all his life, he can probably take more. Maybe he'll lose whatever friendship they have, but he's lost so much at this point, perhaps it's fate trying to pass him a note.

Fix her.

Akihiko finally makes it to the playground and starts to lower the pace, unwinding slowly. There's a crack of distant thunder far at sea and the sky starts to mizzle in response. He has to take a shower before school so he endures, lowering the hood of his shirt to let the rain cool him, soothe the pain of his musings.

The next song is particularly beaty and he hops to the horizontal bar in sync with the drums to distract himself. It takes a few back hip circles to go through the chorus, then as the song winds down, he sits on top like he always does, eyes closed and nose raised to the sky, resigned. The rain is plastering his short hair to his forehead and he quickly ruffles it with both hands, silvery spikes hanging in every direction.

A new tune is blaring in his ears and he remains motionless, letting the refreshing water drive out his thoughts in rivulets down his neck and half-undone shirt like so many sins. Despite grabbing the bar tightly with both hands on each side, he almost loses his balance when a hand rests on top of his.

Minako is standing right there, arms crossed on top of the bar, head turned sideways and her fingers resting where his hand used to be when he caught himself in extremis. She's obviously been running and kept her shirt's hood raised up but the front of her hair is dewing on her nose, the faint white line of her scar barely visible in the shadow of the cowl.

"Please."

The voice is mellow, so soft its melting into the splatter of raindrops and the bass line. If it wasn't for one dislodged earbud, dangling by the wire on his chest, he might have never heard her.

Panic sets in, this is not how he was planning on doing this. He clenches his fingers, suddenly nervous. The storm above Port Island has got nothing on the tumults resounding in the empty space where his words should be forming.

"…I…"

He might have been halfway ready to drop down his perch at that instant. She grabs his wrist with a firm grip.

"Please, please don't run."

Her voice doesn't match the tautness of her fingers, there's some desperation in her sadness. He tenses, fingers shaking, and she takes a deep breath.

"It's nobody's fault, this whole thing was screwed up."

He runs his free hand in his hair nervously.

"But I…"

She looks at him, rubies wet and pleading, locking his own eyes in place.

"Akihiko, please, it's not your fault."

Hearing his name for the first time without the honorifics shakes him out of his funk. Except, it's not exactly the first… He blushes furiously at the memory of… He closes his eyes so forcefully the orbits are aching.

"…But I…"

"You didn't know. Nobody did, we've all been somewhat… messed up."

He's ragged, breathing forcefully to keep from drowning, but he's too far in now to run. Maybe she'll hate him though.

"You were barely conscious and-"

"It doesn't matter."

She's looking at him with grim determination, like she's going to shut down anything he comes up with.

"Your mind was-"

"So was yours!"

He sighs, she's being so unreasonable, she's usually quite level-headed.

"Not as much… not as long as-"

"And I'm telling you it doesn't matter!"

He's choking on his words.

"It could have… turned into-"

"But it did not, so it doesn't matter!"

She's almost shouting back now, her resolve drowning his shaky whispers. It feels like a one-sided fight he's losing. This isn't fixing anything.

"What if I'd gone berserk? I could have hurt–"

"But you did not, and I trust you."

I don't have the discipline you think I do.

"What about next time?"

"I'll still trust you."

She's keeping her on her aplomb. This is getting nowhere and he's shifting from timidly trying to make his point to flustered pretty quickly. It's like she's trying to rile him up.

"Minako, please. You don't..."

"I'm just so glad it was you."

He doubletakes. What?

She's hanging her head down and he can't see her face, but her tone is gentle, almost… timid.

"If I had to be... stuck in… with anyone… I'm just glad it was you."

Akihiko is not sure he wants more explanations on that one, but of course she had to keep going. He's going to burn in Hell for this.

"I'm not saying I wanted to be… whatever it did to us. That was… vile, like an intrusion. I didn't want to let go, it was in my mind, whispering, and I couldn't shake it out."

She's shivering at the memory in repulsion and her fingers are stiff from stress on his wrist. Her other hand is rubbing her hair under her cowl as if in remembrance of the nightmare.

"But at least… when it stopped trying to… I was… not alone. I don't remember… everything, but that wasn't… you where there, and that made me feel safe, and…"

This is all kinds of messed up.

"It wasn't unpleasant."

Understatement of the year, right there. It's his turn to glance the other way, extremely embarrassed.

You have NO idea.

"So…"

She looks up, somewhat shy. She takes both his hands in hers, bites her lip.

"Please forgive yourself. I don't blame you."

Even though she's asking, it's no easy feat, to deal with guilt. He's biting his tongue, dumbstruck.

"I need you. And I trust you. Please, don't run from… from this."

His eyes are starting to sting, and he should be the one asking for forgiveness, it should not be her begging him like this. He doesn't deserve any of it, but he'd do anything to make amends.

"…Okay."

She sniffs, nods, squeezes his fingers.

"Can we… go back and time, bury this, and try again?"

"I… can try."