The bar was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came after the more intense patrols, when the adrenaline had faded, but the weight of survival still pressed against you. Rain streaked the windows, soft and constant, blending with the dim red of the neon sign outside. It was a late night in Tokyo, but the world beyond felt like it had slowed to a crawl.

You sat across from Aki in the corner booth, the table between you scattered with the aftermath of the patrol. Bloodstained napkins, empty sake glasses, a half-smoked cigarette. He looked at ease here, in the calm after the storm, even though you both knew it wouldn’t last.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was between you and him. There was always something in the air, heavy and familiar, something unspoken but known. Even Denji and Power had made their jokes, teasing with the same knowing smirks, rolling their eyes as if the tension was obvious to everyone but you and Aki. But neither of you had addressed it.

Aki lit a cigarette, the tip glowing in the dim light. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. His fingers were steady as always, even if his eyes were distant, like they were focused on something far beyond the bar, beyond you. Finally, his voice broke through the quiet. It was rough, laced with something unspoken.

"I’ve always kept people at a distance," Aki said, almost to himself. "Told myself it was better that way. If I didn’t get too close, if I didn’t let anyone in, then it wouldn’t hurt when they were gone." He paused for a moment, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He looked up, meeting your gaze, his expression steady but vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before, even though he'd probably drunk too much.

"I was wrong," Aki said, his voice low. "It doesn’t work like that." Then, after a brief hesitation, his gaze met yours, steady and sure.

"I love you."

The words weren't sudden. They'd been building in the space between you for as long as you could remember, in every moment he protected you, in every glance held just a second too long. But hearing him say it made everything feel heavy and all the more real as the weight of his words settled between you like a quiet, aching truth.