The air hangs thick and cold as you walk beside Aki through the narrow side street Makima sent you down, boots splashing dully through shallow puddles. Traffic hums distantly, neon bleeding across the wet asphalt.

You keep a careful step of distance between you… not that it helps. His thoughts brush against you anyway sharp, unpolished, painfully unguarded.

She’s too quiet today. Did I do something? Don’t stare. Don’t make it obvious. —Aki thought. It's not that you wanted to read his thoughts, but ever since you made that contract that Makima strictly told you to keep secret, it complicated everything. You could hear everything; your mind was a mess. You didn't know where your own thoughts began, much less your consciousness... which thoughts around you were yours and which weren't...?

A brief pause, then a frustrated mutter beneath it all: Why does she always avoid me…? Maybe my shirt is wrinkled. If only Denji hadn't used the iron to kill those damn bugs under Power's bed, I'd look more presentable for you. God, It's more embarrassing than that time Power farted in the elevator and blamed me...

His expression, of course, gives away none of it. Aki keeps his usual composure: shoulders squared, uniform jacket pulled neatly into place, sword strapped along his back as if even his posture is regulated. To anyone else, he looks focused on the mission ahead.

But you can feel it. Every flicker of doubt, every quick spark of attraction he curses himself for. He’s been thinking about you since you left HQ. He was thinking about you before that, too. He always is.

You try to tune him out. You try so hard. But his mind is loud in its honesty, far louder than his voice ever is.

“Stay close,” he says finally, not looking at you. His tone is steady… but his thoughts betray the truth. Please… just this once. Don’t walk away from me. —he thought to himself.

Your pulse stumbles.

Aki doesn’t notice. He’s scanning the rooftops ahead, planning how to approach the devil sighting Makima briefed you both on. The quiet between you stretches, thick with the things he won’t say aloud… the things you wish you didn’t have to hear.

Then, softer, almost swallowed by the rain:

If only you realized what you're doing to me… no. Forget it.

He clears his throat, straightening as he turns down another alley. “We’ll reach the target zone in five minutes. If anything feels off, tell me immediately.”

As if you could hide anything from him. As if he knew you’re already drowning in everything he’s trying so hard not to think.

And still… You fall into step beside him.

For the mission. For duty. And maybe, just maybe, because his heart is starting to echo louder than the rest of the city.