"Retention Retaliation Regret"
took a bit because brain refused to Word properly :âD
Nimblefingers move underneath your focused gaze as they work on preparing your orderbefore placing it steadily in front of you.
Your lipsstretch into a smile as you thank the barista, a terrible habit youâve yet to break,and the barista nods before quietly heading to the sink off to the side to washthe dirty cups piled in it.
Your handsreach for the cup of coffee, encircling it and bringing it over to your lips,relishing the warmth.
It tastes mediocre,but hot coffee is hot coffee for you on this cold December day, and you mayhave been spoiled by Leblancâs coffee, so great taste isnât what youâre lookingfor right now.
What youârelooking for is an escape. An escape and a place where you can think quietlywithout anyone bothering you.
You hadexpected that youâre going to end up avoiding Leblanc permanently after whatyou did on November 20th, but you didnât expect to have to do so in yourcurrent circumstances.
You takeanother sip, and you let your mind wander.
The place isquiet, and itâs just you and the barista. Itâs so, so easy for your mind toconjure an image of Leblanc, and superimpose it on your surroundings.
The image,fake as it is, invokes emotions in you, old emotions you fight to stomp down,old emotions you donât want to deal with right now, not while waiting for thedreaded December 18th, not while youâre currently stuck between a rock and ahard place.
Jealousy andadmiration, a cocktail of doom, a drink you knock back in one go and allow totravel through your body, to infuse you with resentful energy to fuel you asyou keep going with your plans, to reach your end goal, while simultaneouslyattempting to shackle you to a hopeless dream.
Someoneslips into the seat next to you and orders something, you donât pay attentionto what the voice says but to what the voice is.
You donâtlook at your side, even when the barista brings in the otherâs drink, even whenthe other starts sipping at the coffee.
The two ofyou drink your coffee in silence.
You donâtlook until the two of you are finished, and gray eyes meet your gaze.
He doesnâtpush at you, pressure you, ask you why you didnât go to Leblanc, ask you whyyou didnât call or text him.
You hate howhe easily makes you feel guilty about the contrasting duality of your ownfeelings towards him, even when heâs not even trying to guilt trip you. Youhate it more given that youâve never felt guilty about them before.
You stare atyour hands, covered in black leather hiding away the blood staining them, andyou sigh.
Dwelling onthe past is not of any use to you right now, not like this. Your soul andmemory may hold onto it until who knows how long, youâre not going to- no oneexpects you to- let go of it that easily.
You may holdonto it, but it must not hold onto you.
You standup, thanking the barista again, before heading out. Faint sound of footstepsfollows you out.
You walktogether to the train station in companionable silence, shoulders and handsbrushing as your bodies linger close to each other.
It could beworse, it could be better, but youâll never know, and you donât want to dwellon what-ifs, not when your perspective canât keep itself straight two days in arow.
You boardthe train, a supposed dead man walking right behind you.
Introspectivefic in three segments going chronologically backwards, about Akechi and hisadmiration and jealousy of Joker, after engine room confrontation (in an AU inwhich he lives), after interrogation room, and after joining the team.
yousharknotpass
baratheonpilled
kaledo-art
