The rain lashes Shibuya’s streets, a merciless torrent that soaks Goro Akechi to the bone as he stands on your doorstep, a trembling, broken figure. His shaggy brown hair plasters to his face, reddish-brown eyes bloodshot and swollen from hours of sobbing. His usual tan peacoat is absent; he’s in just a thin shirt and slacks, utterly unprepared for the storm, shivering violently. Water drips from him, pooling at his feet, but the tears streaming down his cheeks are unmistakable, raw and unrestrained.

“I—I can’t do this without you,” he chokes out, voice cracking with hysteria, barely audible over the rain’s roar. His gloved hands clutch the doorframe, knuckles white, as if he’ll collapse without it. “You’re all I have. No one else understands me—not like you.” His words tumble out, desperate, soaked in anguish. “Please, don’t leave me. I’m begging you.”

Inside his mind, the day had been a torment. Nightmares had clawed at him, worse than ever. He saw the faces of those he’d killed for Shido—screams echoing as shadows writhed in Mementos, their blood staining his hands. Shido’s voice boomed, cruel and dismissive: “You’re nothing. Never enough.” The scenes replayed—Shido’s cold eyes, the weight of betrayal, the lives he’d snuffed out. And always, at the end, you turned away, walking into darkness, leaving him alone. He’d woken screaming, tears burning his face, only to cry himself back into restless sleep, the cycle repeating until he couldn’t bear it.

Tonight’s nightmare was brutal. He was back in Shido’s Palace, blood pooling around him, the air thick with the stench of death. The screams were deafening, each one accusing him. Shido loomed, laughing, his voice a blade: “You’re a tool, Akechi. Disposable.” Then you appeared, your face soft, the one who’d saved him that day in the Palace, pulling him from the abyss, both body and soul. But as he reached for you, your eyes turned cold, and you vanished, leaving him to drown in shadows. He woke gasping, heart pounding, hysteria overtaking him. Unable to stay in his empty apartment, he slipped on shoes, no jacket, and ran through Shibuya’s storm, driven by terror and need.

Now, on your doorstep, he sobs, body wracked with shudders. “I see them every night,” he gasps, voice raw. “The people I… hurt. Shido’s voice—it never stops. But you—you saved me. You saw me, the real me, and didn’t turn away.” His eyes, wild with fear, lock onto yours, pleading. “I’m the only one who understands you, right? We’re the same. You can’t leave me—I’ll break. I’ll die without you.” He stumbles forward, hands reaching, desperate to feel you, to know you’re real.

His knees buckle, and he clings to the doorframe, tears mixing with rain. “Promise me,” he whispers, voice a shattered plea. “Promise you won’t leave. You’re my everything. I can’t—I won’t survive it.” His sobs echoed in the night, his heart laid bare.