... In which Akechi and I meet with Futaba and she poses some questions that not only provide clarity, but might also bring closure—for both of them. In the aftermath, I'm finally left with the chance to get closer to him . . . and extend a very special challenge of my own.

******************************************

By the time we arrive back in Leblanc, I have filled Morgana in on most things that happened over the last week—although I only briefly mention that I was in my own ideal reality at the very start, without going into detail on what this entailed. On the other hand, I tell him all about Sumire and Maruki, and then finally, about the fact that Akechi and I are officially dating now. Upon this, he makes a face, but he does not seem surprised in the slightest.

When we finally step through the cafe door, he's all caught up. "Ah, you're back," Sojiro greets me, and I give him a wave. It's not quite dinner time yet, so I take Morgana up to my room with me, where we pass the time until I hear the doorbell chime below.

When I enter the cafe, I spot Futaba sitting by the counter alone, a plate of curry in front of her. "Sojiro told me to tell you that yours is ready, right over in that pot." She gestures toward the kitchen. "He's already gone home, so it's all perfect."

> "For our meeting with Akechi?"

"Because you wanted to meet me and Akechi?"

I fetch my dinner, then take a seat on one of the benches instead. Futaba spins around on her chair to keep facing me. "Yes."

"What did you even want to meet him for?" Morgana asks, hopping onto the table in front of me.

"That's between him and me," Futaba says almost ceremoniously. "Hm . . . until he arrives, I might as well tell you what happened before we came to rescue you."

She reclines on her chair and pulls her legs to her chest, then describes how all my friends convened here after we left for Odaiba. They talked about what I told them over the course of the past week and eventually came to their senses, which turned Morgana back into a cat as well. "Once we got to Odaiba, we spotted the Palace—you know how the rest goes," she concludes.

I raise my head from my now-empty plate.

> "Wait, how did you enter the Palace?"

"But you didn't have the search history . . ."

"I've synced all our search histories in the Nav a while ago," Futaba says with a grin. "We could access it through your history."

Just then, the bell chimes again and Akechi steps into the cafe, looking the three of us over. "So, you're all here already. I can't say I'm not curious about what you have in mind," he says to Futaba, then takes a seat by the counter, next to her.

I push my plate aside and reach for a glass of water, then inch forward on my bench, as does Morgana beside me.

"Excellent. You're right on time." Futaba rests her chin atop her knees, keeping her eyes on Akechi the whole time. "So, I wanted you to come here because I wanted to ask you a question."

"About Wakaba Isshiki?" he asks without pause.

"Yes," Futaba confirms after a brief moment, and I freeze in my seat as well. Staring at the two of them facing each other like that, I am both apprehensive and oddly . . . glad that this is happening now. Maybe I should have figured something like this to be the reason she summoned him in such a manner. But at the same time . . .

"Go ahead."

Futaba's head flies up, and even my eyes widen momentarily. Then I recall how willing—even eager—to acknowledge everything he's done he is and find that I'm not surprised.

"Woah." Futaba sits a little straighter. "You're really just gonna answer anything I ask you?"

"Why not?" Akechi shrugs. "Although you won't get anything but the truth from me."

"Good." Futaba scoots forward on her chair, hugging her knees tighter. "I'm not looking for someone who goes easy on me." At that, Akechi breaks into suppressed laughter, and Futaba tilts her head. "Your response tells me that I came to the right person."

"And your response tells me that you're stalling." Akechi reclines, swinging one leg over the other and holding her determined gaze resolutely.

"Uh . . . am not!" calls Futaba.

Akechi merely raises an eyebrow, and Futaba makes a face. Then she turns to me. "Rin, I do not like how observant he is."

I have to stifle a laugh. Akechi is by far one of the most intuitive and observant people I have ever met. Briefly, I consider how the only time his talent to observe deserted him was because of his desire for connection, and my smile falls.

"So . . . Okay. I'll stop stalling." Futaba pivots back to Akechi. "The question I have for you is simple: Why did Wakaba Isshiki have to die?"

One moment of unbroken silence passes; I wager most of us are holding our breaths. "Because," Akechi replies without breaking eye contact, "Masayoshi Shido had to determine whether I was good for something."

"She . . . was the first one, wasn't she?" Futaba asks.

Akechi nods. "I had started working for him as a kind of special intelligence operative several months before," he says conversationally. "Which had been the entire idea behind approaching him at the time. Being the foolish kid I was, I figured that my prior experience with the Metaverse and my ability to induce psychotic breakdowns were enough. It wasn't for very long."

"So, wait . . ." Morgana perks up. "That's right. You never planned to kill him, did you?"

Akechi gives him a bemused look. "Believe it or not, when I came to Shido, I didn't expect to ever kill anyone. You can laugh if you want," he offers. "It is quite the pathetic little pipe dream."

I shake my head, feeling my throat clog up. Wakaba's death occurred over two years ago, and in light of what Akechi just said about when he started working for Shido and his current age . . . He was . . . fifteen, I think, feeling a shiver. Likely not even sixteen when he killed her. No one should speak with so much scorn about the dreams they had at that age.

"And when the stuff you did before wasn't enough for Shido anymore, he told you to kill her," Futaba says to Akechi, who nods.

"I wager it was some kind of test. To see how much I'm willing to do for him, or something along those lines." He makes an undefined gesture with his hand. "You know, I could've not done it. Dropped out of high school, gone back to my old miserable existence, and lived the rest of my life in fear of him exposing my involvement in his conspiracy so far . . . or something like that. But I didn't."

I don't know how he does it, but somehow he sounds both relentless and wistful at the same time.

"It was only one time, after all." The amount of disgust in his voice makes my guts clump together. "How bad could one time make me? Or a second time? Or a third? Obviously, they were not getting any more frequent at all; that was all in my head. All fear. Eventually, it would stop. It would go back to the way it was before, and it wouldn't be too late yet." Akechi pauses, and I clench my jaw to combat my own trembling. "But you're not here to listen to the sorry little lies I used to tell myself, yeah? If you were looking for more details on your mother's death, I barely remember that day—as unsatisfying as such an answer might seem, it is the only one I have for you."

"Hm." Futaba pauses. "No, I'm satisfied with this answer," she says to our all's surprise. "I just don't know what feelings I should have about this personally yet."

"I don't care either way," Akechi replies, drawing all gazes. I frown, not quite sure what to make of or how to interpret this statement.

"You don't care?" Futaba asks.

"What am I supposed to care about?" Akechi shrugs. "Do you think I'm going to try to tell you how to feel? Preposterous."

I keep staring at him, and somewhere at the back of my head, I put together that asking for forgiveness is—when you look at it from this angle—asking someone to change their feelings about you. Is that why I can't even imagine him ever doing it?

"It's not like I can influence your feelings either way," Akechi continues. "The only truth I have for you about your mother is that she deserved better. And so do a lot of others, too. Yet, no matter what I say or do, you have to live with the consequences of my actions either way." He pauses. "But you're strong enough for that."

My eyes widen, and so do Futaba's for a moment. "Hell yeah!" she then exclaims with unprecedented enthusiasm, and all I can think is that I've never witnessed such an improbable combination of unapologetic and compassionate. Those shouldn't go together, yet Akechi somehow manages to project both simultaneously, and it almost makes my head spin with incomprehension.

There is a long pause. "She really is gone again . . . Sojiro sees it that way too, so he confirmed before you guys arrived," Futaba says in a more mellow voice. "And I think I can live with that a little easier now." Then she averts her eyes. "But you two were fighting this whole time, weren't you? While I was just bumming around town without a care . . ."

I lean toward her, shaking my head.

"You came around in the end."

> "You're here now."

"Ugh, that's not what I meant. Just let me apologize, 'kay?" Futaba exclaims. "Deep down, I always suspected something strange was happening . . . Something wrong. But, being with my mom was so much fun, I just . . . I stopped trying to figure it out."

"Learning to resist such temptations is a difficult process," Akechi says. "It takes time. There's no reason for you to blame yourself."

I nod and swallow repeatedly, unable to meet Futaba's eyes. For me, it wasn't a dead mother, but I can't say I don't know exactly what it feels like to be so attached to an impossibly perfect bliss that you abandon all critical thinking for the sake of indulging.

"I've been there too . . ."

> "I know what that feels like."

"Oh, yeah, you had your own happy reality, didn't you?" Futaba perks up, then looks at Akechi. "But not you. You snapped her out, didn't you? For such a great pretender, you're really good at seeing through lies. I thought I was good at it when I accepted that my mom's death wasn't my fault. But I guess I'll need to practice some more."

"That was your first step," Akechi replies. "And this was your second. You're well on your way."

"Heh heh . . ." Futaba rubs her hands together. "That's right. And now, I've totally snapped out of it thanks to . . ." She looks back and forth between Akechi and me. "Both of you, I guess. I'm all good now!"

I give her a sympathetic smile.

"Are you sure?"

> "It's okay if it is painful."

I say the words that I would have told myself after snapping out, and Futaba sighs. "That's true. But it really is now." She looks at Akechi from the corner of her eye. "I don't know why, but I had a feeling that talking about all of that would help—and it did. I think I'm gonna sleep easier tonight than I have in years."

I smile encouragingly, realizing that I feel lighter as well. Maybe Akechi was right to rebuke me for not talking about it. Maybe talking honestly about everything is really the solution.

"So, was there anything else you needed me for?" he asks.

"Well . . ." Futaba scoots back and forth. "The main thing, besides getting more information, was that I wanted to understand better why Rin feels so much for you. Her feelings are really strong, you know?"

There is a pause, and I don't know whether to bury my face in my hands or just abandon all sense of mortification in front of any of these people at this point.

"And did that work out?" Akechi asks eventually.

"I think so," Futaba concurs. "You own up to what you've done, but you don't ask for forgiveness. You don't even expect it. You just . . . say things as they are, but you also don't. It's impressive. I know that you're not a bad person." She recrosses her arms, resting her chin on top. "We probably went through a lot of similar things . . . I just couldn't let go of what you did to my mom for a while. That's why I wanted to speak about it directly."

"You thought it might help you process your feelings better?" Morgana asks, and Futaba nods.

"And it did, so . . ." She looks back and forth between Akechi and me, then grins. "You guys will be great together. Rin defended you, you know?" she says to Akechi. "I don't mean earlier in front of Maruki's palace; I mean before Christmas. Even before we fought. She didn't stop for a single moment. She would have risked everything just to give you a chance. If that's not love, I . . . uh . . . might have misunderstood something . . ."

I smile at Futaba softly.

> "You didn't misunderstand."

"You've got that right."

"I knew it!" chimes Futaba.

Akechi groans. "Oh no. When will you finally stop risking things for me?"

"There!" Futaba points a finger at him, still grinning. "And that's your love. You'll do everything you can to keep her away from the potential threat that you think you pose, regardless of whether you actually have plans to harm her. You even jeopardized your plans for Shido."

I giggle, and Akechi rolls his eyes. "It was never a true risk."

"Oh, but it was," Futaba insists. "Had she really distanced herself from you and not let you feign-cooperate with us, you couldn't have set us up." Without giving him time for a reply, she continues, "You guys have earned each other. And . . . I've made up my mind since earlier—I can't resent you anymore. I tried because I told myself I had to. But in terms of reasons, that's honestly kind of a stupid one."

I look at the two of them sitting there, across from each other, and I can hardly believe my eyes. Not even so long ago, I feared that she might never be able to let her resentment go, and now . . . My heart swells with pride at how far both of them have come.

> "That was really brave of you."

"You're really strong, you know?"

"Thanks!" Futaba chimes. "See, what I did learn was that it's best to confront your fears instead of hiding away."

"Someone tell that to Maruki," Akechi grumbles, and I suppress laughter again.

"Maybe we should . . ." Futaba fumbles with her sleeve. "I wanna say it's the right thing to stop him."

"Me too," concurs Morgana. "It just doesn't seem like he should be allowed to do what he does . . ."

"Definitely." Futaba nods. "But we need a unanimous decision to make this an official Phantom Thief operation, so we can't decide without everyone else. If we do fight him, though, you can count on me every step of the way!"

I smile at her fondly for one more moment, practically feeling the air having grown lighter. And now that the hard stuff is out of the way and all the tension has dissipated, the urge to tease her perks up.

> "You know, Akechi did your navigation job really well."

"Akechi took over navigating for the week, you know?"

"Oh?" Futaba perks up, looking over at him. "You think you can navigate better than me?"

Akechi shrugs. "I haven't seen you do it in such a long time . . ."

"Ha!" She points a finger at him. "You're on."

"On?" He frowns.

"You could try to do it together."

> "What if you guys try co-op?"

They both look at me for one moment before Futaba pivots back to Akechi. "Oh, that's brilliant! If we decide to fight Maruki after all, you are on. No take-backs."

"Fine by me." Akechi shrugs, and despite his seeming nonchalance, I can see a faint smile on his face too.

I smile even brighter in response, then cannot resist the urge to bounce up and down in my seat a few times, clapping my hands. They both stare at me—Futaba returns my grin while Akechi looks like he is moments from face-palming. But I don't care. Nothing compares to the joy of two people I love bonding before my very eyes . . . And, well, this should make any upcoming battles that much more exciting.

"Well, now that that's settled—" Futaba stretches in her seat and yawns, then gets to her feet. "School's tomorrow, right? You better not let her stay up late," she says to Akechi, then turns to me. "And you better not end up oversleeping!"

"Wait, wait—" Morgana chimes in.

But Futaba cuts him off. "So, do you want me to lock you guys in here or—?"

"Wait—!"

> "I can lock us in here myself."

"I've got it."

I cut Morgana off myself, returning Futaba's grin.

"And have you considered asking me whether I want to stay here tonight?" Akechi chimes in and my grin falls. Yet the look he's giving me is neither hostile nor dismissive. He looks at me like I haven't begged enough yet.

"Guys!" Morgana exclaims, his fur standing on end. "Do I not get a say in this at all?"

"No," Futaba and Akechi say at the same time, and I break into laughter.

"You only get a say in whether you want to stay too."

> "The only thing you get a say in is where you sleep."

Morgana glares at me offendedly. "I won't be staying here if the two of you are. But Rin, you better not do anything reckless," he hisses. "Who knows what this guy's gonna do once he gets you alone in here?"

In response, I only give Morgana a coy smile.

> "He had me alone for a whole week, you know?"

"You speak like that's never happened before."

"Ugh, don't remind me!" Morgana groans, and Futaba almost keels over with laughter.

"Come on, let's go." She picks a twining Morgana up under the front paws and skips toward the door. "Good night, guys!"

I smile and wave after her until the door falls shut, leaving me alone with Akechi. "What were you trying to insinuate there?" he asks with a smirk. "I barely spent any time here last week."

I lean forward and return his smirk.

"But they don't know that."

> "What do you think?"

"Maybe you should from now on."

"I still think that you're far too insatiable." He reclines in his chair, holding his eyes on me. "But either way . . . what they think matters little. The only thing that matters is—whatever could it be that you had in mind for us to do now?"

Immediately, my mind goes blank, and I freeze in my seat. I didn't technically . . . have anything specific in mind. I'm still so terrified of him disappearing that maybe I just want to ensure he doesn't tonight.

"If nothing else, you should do what they said and get to bed." Akechi stands from his chair, dusting off his coat. "You do have school tomorrow."

I jump up from my seat and stand in front of him, taking his hands into mine.

> "Please stay with me."

"Only if you stay."

"And why would I do that?" he asks, yet I do not overlook the knowing glint in his eyes. So, without further ado, I pull him with me toward my room. "You know, Morgana had a point," he says at the base of the stairs. "Who knows what I'll do when you invite me in like this? You should be more careful."

But I don't feel like being careful. I feel wild, bold. More so than I have in a long time. I feel . . . liberated. Almost soaring. Despite the trouble with my friends, now that everything seems to have taken a turn for the better, I realize that I haven't felt this . . . good in a long time. Since October, I have been in a near-constant state of heartbreak, but now . . .

Halfway up the stairs, I pivot back to Akechi, almost tripping backward. I want to do . . . to feel so many things. Everything all at once. I want to live . . . Make up for all the months we lost to conspiracies and bullshit bets between gods.

"I'm not afraid."

> "Let's make his worst fears come true."

For one moment, Akechi pauses. Then, without warning, he catches me around the waist and drags me up the last few steps. I cry out in surprise, then cling to his neck and stifle laughter. "Insatiable," he whispers into my ear, and I want to yell—yes! I am! And what's so wrong with that?

When Akechi lets go, I don't release him, pulling him along until I can drop backward onto my couch, immediately finding myself pinned down between his arms. I catch his face between my hands, and for a split second, a quick smile breaks through his unreadable expression.

"Well?" he dares. "What are you waiting for? Is there something you were going to do?"

My mouth opens, then closes again. I stare up at him, suddenly feeling all my boldness disintegrate and my mind go blank. I wanted . . .

"You didn't think this through," he sneers, his eyes narrowing. "You're dragging me up here, making a scene. All for . . ." His hand disconnects from the backrest of the couch and snags the front of my shirt, drawing me closer. "There are a few aforementioned worst fears that I can think of to actualize for you, if you've got nothing better."

My mouth falls open, and I can only stare at him, taking in the gleam that I haven't seen in his eyes since we explored Dr. Maruki's palace for the first time. Since he pinned me to the floor and asked what to do with me. Since I said . . .

"Anything," I whisper breathlessly, just as before.

"Isn't that what you'd like?" Akechi leans closer until his mouth hovers inches above mine. I let my eyes fall shut, and for one heartbeat, I do not dare to breathe. Then my eyes snap open again, and I take him in—the way he stares down at me with both unyielding composure and immeasurable affection. Wasn't I wondering, back in Dr. Maruki's palace, just how much it might take to break through his layers of self-restraint?

Without thinking, I lean forward and briefly skim my lips against his. "You—!" I only laugh when he immediately catches my wrists, pressing me down. "Did you forget what happened last time you provoked me?"

"Not enough," I whisper, eliciting a groan.

"Not enough can be done without crossing a boundary that I don't intend to cross."

His words barely register as his mouth finds the side of my neck, then trails lower to my collarbone. I am momentarily breathless, and when he pulls away, I struggle against his grip, frustrated that I cannot draw him closer again.

"You're looking like you want me to keep going." I cannot name the tone of his voice, but something about the oddly somber look in his eyes makes my heart tighten.

"Maybe I do."

For one moment, Akechi stares down at me like I'm a mirage of this unreal reality myself, then he releases me. But when I reach for him, he doesn't yield. ". . . What do you want from me?" he whispers, dropping onto the couch beside me and crossing his legs. When he brushes a hand along the side of my face and through my hair, I lean into his touch, then lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "There's nothing that I seem to have ever done that you didn't like."

I smile into the collar of his coat. "Nothing."

"I don't get you."

"Oh, you know what I want."

"Hm . . ." He reaches for my head and pulls me back with one hand to look me straight in the eyes. "No."

I can't contain the sigh of disappointment in response to the clear statement . . . Then I nod. "I like having you here either way." He doesn't reply, and for a while, we sit in silence. "This much is fine, right?"

Akechi gives me a bemused look. "If the circumstances were different, you would already be hanging from your bed frame and screaming so loud that even your cat over at Sakura's house would hear," he says conversationally, and my mouth, which I have opened for a reply, never closes.

My face flares, and I barely manage to press out, "Maybe I'd like that."

Akechi gives me another unreadable look. "Maybe you would," he says, still unnervingly calm. "But I'm not going to make myself such a fundamental part of your memories."

I almost snort with laughter, pulling him a little tighter. Doesn't he know that he already is? That there is nothing we could do to make his memory any more fundamental to me?

Akechi seems to have guessed what I'm thinking, because after a pause, he adds, "Besides, to make a truly informed decision about this, you'd need to know all the circumstances. And that isn't something I can give you right now."

My mouth snaps shut, and I lean back, suddenly apprehensive. The first thing that comes to mind is to ask why—or what circumstances he means. Then I ask instead, "Will I ever know?"

"After Maruki's defeat," Akechi says after another pause. "Then you'll know everything."

"I can wait that long."

Akechi looks at me like I've gone insane. "You're such an unbelievable fool sometimes. But, I suppose, I asked you neither for your trust nor your heart. If you're willing to give them to me anyway, that's on you."

I lay my head on his shoulder again, then lean up to place a kiss on his temple. "Haven't I always been a fool for you?" I mumble into his collar and feel his subdued laugh. I won't be deterred from pursuing him . . . haven't I made that clear enough yet? I can wait a while longer, I tell myself. Until . . .

Just when I realize that I don't actually know when or even if we're all taking Dr. Maruki on, my phone chimes.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

I only groan in response, burying deeper into his side. I don't really feel like dealing with any messages right now . . . All I want is to sit here and relish him. Maybe fall asleep, just like this . . .

"If you won't, I'll get it."

Not really caring, I nod. Akechi pulls me tighter against his chest and reaches across to retrieve my phone, then shoves it in my face until I unearth a hand from where I have tucked it into his coat and draw the unlock pattern.

"It is only your group chat," he says, tapping the screen a few times. Then, "You're not missing anything. All they're saying is that they need time to process what Maruki has done. Futaba relays Morgana's question—whether you plan to call together a meeting to discuss this," he adds after a while. "Now they're asking why you're not replying, even though you're showing as online. That text has three exclamation marks."

I groan louder, raising my head and taking my phone out of his hand begrudgingly.

FUTABA: I'm pretty sure she's otherwise occupied right now.

RYUJI: Dude, her icon is lighting up . . .

> Doesn't that mean she's on?

FUTABA: Maybe she left IM open by accident?

RYUJI: Wait, wait!! Hold up . . . What do you even mean, "otherwise occupied"??

ANN: It's not like it's a big deal.

> We can ask her tomorrow in school.

MAKOTO: Please do that if she doesn't come anymore.

> Although . . . Please do elaborate on your choice of words, Futaba.

FUTABA: Well . . .

I stifle a giggle, then adjust my position to type before they all lose their minds.

RIN: I'm here, just a little tired.

> Meeting tomorrow works. Let's discuss the time at school!

RYUJI: Rin!! There you are! What did you mean, Futaba?

FUTABA: Ask Rin at school tomorrow.

> Also, can you hear Morgana's screaming over where you're at?

> You should, given how loud it is.

ANN: Huh? Why is he screaming?

MAKOTO: And why isn't he with Rin? I thought she was housing him . . .

FUTABA: I took him home tonight.

> Ask Rin why I had to do that.

I laugh, then groan, lowering my phone. I guess I won't be able to avoid a flood of more or less intrusive questions tomorrow . . .

"Your friends are incessant," Akechi remarks. "Will you tell them about that bed frame idea?"

I snort so hard that I almost drop my phone.

"They wouldn't be fans."

> "Not if you don't actually do it."

"That's what you call "TMI"."

"Right, because only then would you actually have to explain the screaming," Akechi says, and I laugh more. "But don't you want to start thinking about sleep? You can barely keep your eyes open."

I give a sigh of acknowledgment, which is immediately followed by a yawn. But I don't loosen my grip on him.

"Can't you stay anyway?"

> "Please stay with me."

"It is very late," he says. "For how long did you expect me to stay? The whole night?"

When I nod, he laughs. "I brought neither a toothbrush nor a change of clothes. Did you expect me to sleep in these?" He points at his neatly ironed trousers and spotless shoes.

For one moment, I am stumped. Then I rise out of his arms and spring to my feet, suddenly having an idea.

> "I'll be right back."

"Leave that to me."

Without waiting for a reply, I sprint toward the tall shelves on the other side of my room and drop to my knees, pulling out the boxes that I haven't touched since I came here.

It takes a bit of pleading with him, but in the end, Akechi actually agrees to try the old clothes that I presume once belonged to Sojiro—stored here from a time when this attic was still just an attic and nothing else. And when I dig a spare, unused toothbrush out of my dufflebag, he stops protesting altogether.

Already sitting in my bed, I was preparing to poke fun at him as soon as he would come back up the stairs after using the washroom and changing. But when he then returns, the words lodge in my throat immediately.

"You're looking at me like you fully intend to do this again. Should I pack some of my own things next time I come here so late?" Akechi asks with a lazy grin, leaning on the table. I have no idea how he does it, but the old, baggy clothes don't make him an ounce less attractive. On the contrary, considering how put-together he looks and dresses at all times, seeing him with hair slightly in disarray, dressed in something that isn't meticulous, makes my throat tighten and my cheeks flush.

For one moment, my mind conjures up an image of him right after we woke up in my ideal reality, but . . . Now that I think about it, even that image of him felt a little too perfect. This is anything but, and I adore it . . . Maybe a little too much.

When I nod in response to his question, Akechi laughs. "If your friends knew about this, they would lose their shit," he says, walking over and sitting on my bed, still without losing his grin.

I draw closer and raise my hand to pull him closer. If my friends knew about this, they would lose their shit. But at that moment, I couldn't care less. I open my mouth to tell him, but before I can speak, Akechi seizes my raised hand and brushes his lips against the tips of my fingers. My breath hitches, and my face heats—whether from the contact with his mouth or the skin of his hand without the glove, I cannot say.

Has he ever touched me without gloves before? I draw closer, pressing my finger into his soft bottom lip, realizing that I don't know. Maybe I can ask him if there is a reason . . .

For one moment, he lets me indulge, then his mouth snaps open and he bites down. Not so hard that it would hurt, but quite enough to make me gasp. A wave of heat hits me and doesn't cease, even as he slowly releases his teeth, laughing.

"It is astonishingly easy to get to you," Akechi says without releasing my wrist. "All I have to do is act a little unhinged, and you melt in my hands."

I stifle a laugh.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

> "I like you unhinged."

"Are you certain that this is a wise choice of preferences?"

Uncharacteristically softly, he runs his thumb across my palm, causing a shiver to slip up my spine. Then he pulls me to lay with him, and I nestle my face into the crook of his neck, reaching for my blanket with the hand that he isn't still holding.

"Well, I like acting unhinged, so at least we'll get along on that front."

I giggle into his collar, shutting my eyes.

> "Is it relaxing?"

"Is it liberating?"

"A little." I find myself entirely taken up by the way his bare thumb feels against the sensitive inside of my wrist, drawing almost . . . unsettlingly tender circles. He would bite me, and then he would caress me gently, I think, almost laughing. Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised that there's yet another duality, even in the way he touches me.

"But mostly, it's liberating," Akechi continues. "Being the opposite of the polite, nice boy. I cannot stand him."

At first, I make a face at the seemingly self-deprecating words. Then it dawns on me that maybe he doesn't mean his kindness but rather the need to conform to expectations.

"There's no need for him anymore."

> "I won't miss him either if I can have you."

"Oh, yes. Because you like it when I'm unhinged," he repeats in a mocking voice, and I laugh. Then I suddenly grow serious again, opening my eyes to look at him.

"I won't deny any part of you."

> "I like all of you, though."

Akechi laughs. "That's still quite the funny joke." When I don't laugh along, he draws back and rolls his eyes. "How can you even be certain that you know "all of me"? That something such as that even still exists?"

When I don't reply, he groans. "You wanna know who "I" am so badly, huh? I'm a fucking mess, is what I am. There's nothing new or remarkable to see here. Just . . . what happens when you mash all the pieces of me together like they actually fit."

I stare at him, taken aback by the fact that, despite how exceptionally observant he usually is regarding others, he seems to not see himself at all. The way that he sometimes is when we're alone. The way that he is . . . now. I lean in and press a kiss against his jaw. "That's not true, and I'll prove it," I whisper into his skin.

"Prove how?" Akechi turns to me, eyebrow raised. "Is that a challenge?"

I nod, giving him my cheekiest smile. He's not the only one who can challenge me, I think. And this time, I'll win.

"You want to bet me that you can . . . figure me out?" Akechi asks incredulously, and I nod again. "What a profound waste of your time. Although I can't say I'm not curious about what you'll cook up."

As I lie there, nestled into his arms, I realize that, for the first time, I have on my hands a challenge that I actually want to win. Because it's not a competition, I think. It's about dissipating his self-doubts. It's about . . . proving myself. Impressing him? That's all I ever cared about, I recall fondly. Maybe, I think, as he finally kills the lights, it's time to begin this again too.