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Today, Akira incorrectly surmised, would be just a filler episode, chock-full of droning class lectures about shit he honestly could not give a crap about after midterms. Afterward, he wrongly assumed, he and his motley crew of Phantom Thieves would refine their combat skills in Mementos, since their newest member, Makoto, seemed to be itching to test out her Persona more. He sent out his plans via text to the group chat first thing in the morning during his commute, and was met with unanimous approval of their leader’s decision. (He apparently woke Ryuji up, who so eloquently responded, “SHIT SHIT SHIT ITS SATURDAY TODAY??? NOT SUNDAY??? OH FUCK A DUCK IM SO SCREWED STALL CLASS FOR ME WOULD YA AKIRA-DONO-SAMA WORK ME OUT SOME FAVORS PLS PLS PLS AND YA IM GAME FOR MMTOS” to which an apathetic Ann responded, “sucks to suck bro.” Harsh.) His schedule set, he had no intention of wavering from them.
That is, until he slid open the door to his classroom, only to see his number-one phanboy and enthusiastic 2AM binge-watcher of 90’s shoujo anime extraordinaire, Mishima Yuuki, wearing those stupid-looking suspenders that came with the school’s uniform.
Akira froze. His glasses, even though they didn’t have any actual lenses, cracked. Mishima sat on his desk, a half-crushed energy drink in one hand, his cellphone in the other, appearing blatantly oblivious to the utter and absolutely illegal levels of attractiveness he sported at 8 in the goddamn morning. The nine hours of sleep he got per Morgana’s insistence were now completely useless as Akira’s brain turned to sludge puddles that threatened to leak out of his ears.
He approached Mishima, sweating hands stuffed into his pockets, and attempted to appear nonchalant, cool, and not experiencing a mental breakdown brought about by some overexcitable dweeb wearing what should be an ugly-ass fashion statement. Mishima glanced at him, cocked his head to one side, and said, “Good morning.”
That’s it. Good morning. As if the entire world hadn’t shifted with newfound possibilities shattering in Akira’s brain, risque scenarios playing out in his head, compounding upon one another into a Super Mega Ultra Gay Reawakening. He slammed a hand onto Mishima’s desk, brow furrowing from his glare, before poking the now-frightened Mishima’s nose.
“How dare you,” he said, scowling. “I’ll have you know, I worked hard to get top-marks in class, and that’s all gonna go to waste now. You gonna take responsibility for my problem now or what?”
Mishima’s fear shifted into a baffled expression, cogs visibly turning in those tired eyes of his, before replying, “I’m sorry, what are we talking about? Did I just miss a conversation or something?”
“You. This.” Akira pulled on one of the suspenders and let go, watching it snap back onto Mishima’s shoulder. “What even is this.”
“Uh, I think it’s called ‘following the rules for dress code,’ since I don’t wear the jacket and I almost got written-up this morning.” He paused, then stared up, almost flatly, at Akira. “Wait. Hold on. Are you hitting on me?”
“Maybe. Is it working?” He pushed up his glasses.
“Considering how we’re dating?” Mishima’s gaze shifted to his phone, lips nearly twitching into a grin that betrayed his faux-suave disinterest. “Not really, no. You’re going to have to try harder than that, Kurusu.”
“Is my charm wearing off on you? Guess that means more evenings at the bathhouse. Preferably with you joining me.”
At that, Mishima began laughing, shaking his head. The tips of his ears turned a faint brush of pink. “Do you want me to take the suspenders off? Would that help?”
“No,” Akira replied, almost too quickly. He coughed to clear his throat before averting his pressing gaze. “No, keep them on. They look good. You look good.” Yeah, real smooth there, Akira. He almost swatted himself. Sure, his charm-game was on-point, but his expression could use some serious renovations. Play more video games, Morgana said. It’ll help your courage, Morgana said. Your other parameters don’t matter as much, Morgana said. Pssh. He tried again as Mishima raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather,” he said, lowering his voice, “you take them off later.”
(“Looking real cool, Joker,” Morgana meowed from his bag rather sarcastically. Akira jostled the bag in response, getting a miffed hiss.)
“Later,” Mishima echoed, biting his bottom lip.
“Yeah. Preferably alone. Maybe in a five-star attic known as my room.”
“Hmm.” Mishima rubbed the back of his neck, the blushing-disease spreading to his cheeks. “Well, I’m very busy trying to manage a website and sprucing up a certain somebody’s PR, seeing as I’m their manager and all, but I’m sure I could pen you in for a date this afternoon. If, uh, you’re free, that is.”
“I’ll give you something to manage today, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, we got to work on your flirting skills. Really, Kurusu? You’re such a dork.”
“And you’re dating a dork, so what does that say about you?”
“At least I don’t get all hot and bothered by suspenders of all things,” Mishima retorted.
“True, but you do get bothered by Tuxedo-freaking-Mask every time he comes onto the screen. Like, hello, I’m right here, and I look much cooler. And I actually make a difference sometimes, unlike him.”
Mishima gasped. “Take that back right now, or I’m going to post how much you drool in your sleep all over the Phan-site, identity protections be darned.”
Akira grinned. “So it’s a date?”
“God, you’re unbelievable.” Mishima ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Sure, why not. Suspenders and all.”
“Nice. Don’t bother bringing homework - we’re not gonna get much done.”
“Can’t you at least pretend to be subtle?”
“Where’s the fun in that? I like to be flashy.”
“Fine. Still bringing my math homework, though. If I don’t get it done, I’m copying yours.”
*
Akira: So uh, change of plans
Akira: no mementos today, got business to attend to
Ann: Ugh you useless gay I can’t believe you’re ditching requests to hang out with him instead
Akira: oh you heard?
Ann: The whole CLASS heard you weren’t exactly keeping your voices down
Akira: welp
Akira: eh w/e we’ll go tomorrow
Akira: l8r sk8rs
Ryuji: DUDE WTF U GOT TIME TO BE FLIRTING BUT U AINT BOTHER HELP UR BRO OUT
Ryuji: I THOUGHT WE WERE BESTIES. BROS 5EVER.
Ann: [betrayal.mp3]
Ryuji: UR NOT HELPING ANN