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Akira hadn't thought seeing him in person would affect him as much as it does. After all, he's had two months to mentally prepare himself for this moment.

And yet, the sight of Goro Akechi, alive and in the flesh, perfectly put-together and looking like he was made to sit under the studio lighting, makes him feel... some kind of way. Unsettled, for sure, knowing what he knows now. Then again, there's a part of him that hasn't stopped feeling unsettled since he first (well, perhaps first isn't accurate) jolted awake to find himself on the train to Yongen-Jaya again. In one piece. Not bleeding out on the ground with a megalomaniacal pseudo-god bearing down on him. And, most importantly, as the only one with any recollection of all they'd been through.

It doesn't take Akira long to come to the most logical conclusion: That somewhere along the line, he screwed up. Somehow, it hadn't been enough, and now he has an opportunity to fix it—which would be a lot easier if he were to have some notion of what, specifically, he needs to fix, or even if this is a one-time deal.

At first, he tries copying his previous motions as closely as possible. People always talk about their regrets like they would change them in a heartbeat, given the chance, but the thought of altering the timeline as he knows it is overwhelming. The more Akira steps away from his previous path, the less accurate his existing knowledge may become, the bigger the chance that he may miss something important from the first time around.

That reasoning goes out the window pretty quickly. Akira finds that he can't watch Shiho Suzui jump off that building again, can't go through hearing that agony in Ann's voice a second time when he can so easily prevent it. So he stops her. It's what the Phantom Thieves would do. And things change... but not in a way that affects the flow of events in any profound way. Ann still stumbles after them into the Metaverse and finds the conviction to awaken her persona, somehow. He's not sure how it works out, but it does. What Akira does know is that fate is what you make of it. If he believes in his teammates, they'll end up where they need to be.

But for all of that, he still wavers as they're leaving the recording area. Up until now, the decisions to change things have been easy. Akechi, on the other hand... where to start? Is it even salvageable? Akira's not certain, but when he thinks of their last meeting in Shido's palace, Akechi's remark about the possibility of them meeting a few years earlier, the sounds of gunshots echoing from the other side of the bulkhead—he can't not try. It's not years, but maybe this handful of months will be enough.

Akira lets Ann go ahead with a nod, sliding his hands into his pockets as he tries to maintain his usual casual demeanor. Any moment now...

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The honesty is refreshing enough to lift his spirits a bit as he follows Akechi to the door. "I guess I did that to myself," he sighs, the noise not nearly reflective of his true feelings. Somehow, it sounds better to his ears if it looks like he's wearing Akechi's coat rather than his own. Which... is a thought that should probably embarrass him, but Akira is a hard one to fluster. "Before I knew it, almost everything I owned was black." Akira can't help that he's just drawn to the color. It goes with everything, after all.

It's still snowing when they reach the street. The tiny flakes seem to appear from the dark of the night as Akira peers up towards the sky, and for the briefest moment, it reminds him of earlier today—the opposite of the shimmering particles that drifted upward as the cognitive world once again separated itself from reality.

"... Hard to believe all of that happened just this afternoon," he remarks suddenly, voice quiet, as if the thought itself had been shared to lead into the statement. The world feels completely untouched, as if Tokyo hadn't been almost overtaken by the Metaverse just a few hours prior.

"Black isn't a bad choice. Easier--" to hide cat hair, he almost concludes, before he remembers that, unfortunately, cat hair isn't a problem Akira is likely to ever have again. "--to match."

That comes out sounding more stilted than he wants, and Akechi ends up falling silent until Akira speaks again. He turns his attention to the sky, giving a short nod of agreement. 'Hard to believe' doesn't begin to cover it.

"I didn't think I was going to be able to sleep tonight." He's normally exhausted after Metaverse excursions, and that's true now as well. Even so, sleep felt impossible, like if he didn't keep an eye on the city their hard work would be completely undone. So with that thought on the table he slides Akira a grateful look. "I'm glad you decided to stop by."

Honestly, Akira didn't give much consideration to sleeping. It's not until it's brought up that he realizes he kind of feels the same way. The long delve through Mementos and the battle with Yaldabaoth left him exhausted, but knowing what's waiting for him in the morning...

Spending any of the time leading up to then sleeping feels like a waste, particularly when he's with Akechi.

"Let's just stay up all night, then," he says casually, like it's a completely normal and responsible thing to suggest. Akira slides the glasses off of his face (the flakes of snow are only clouding the lenses; not like he needs them anyway) and looks over at Akechi, something like earnestness shining in his eyes.

The proposal is a startling one, and Akechi is inclined to disagree out of principal. That look in Akira's eye chases any hesitance away and Akechi immediately goes from 'probably not' to 'why not?', even despite being pretty sure they'll both doze off eventually.

"Sure. I need to stay in the habit of pulling all nighters anyway." For school, for work, and for the possibility that he might end up having to sit through his own extensive Q&A with the police. He's not about to bring that up, however. He's also not going to bring up where they can go after they get pancakes; something else has already distracted him.

"Are you going to keep wearing those, too?" He's caught on by now that Akira doesn't actually need them, though he's not sure if he wears them for fashion or to make himself harder to recognize.

He folds in the temples of the glasses and stares down at them for a moment, letting the question seep in. It's true that Akira never needed them, but that may be the case even more so now. Whether it's because he's going to openly admit to being a criminal or because there are no more shady motives he needs to deflect—he'll no longer need to try to fly under the radar.

"Maybe," is his response, however. "I've come to like them. They're... kind of like my mask, out here." Akira tucks them into his bag for safekeeping. Afterwards, his hands retreat into the pockets of the borrowed coat, fingers burrowing deep to hide from the cold, and his gaze skips to the sidewalk ahead. "And you learn a lot about people from whether they take a mask at face value or try to see past it."

Akechi listens closely to Akira's response, privately a little excited to get to hear him lay out his reasoning. It's nice to have some of his suspicions confirmed and learn something new after having some of them denied.

It's the last part that really resonates with him, though. That makes a lot of sense, and it's the sort of thing Akechi has noticed about other people as well.

"I don't know if I could say wearing them suits you any better or worse than not wearing them." There's plenty of differences between the two, but Akechi likes them both. That's the sort of thought he's been careful to under wraps, but right now the lingering memory of their victory and subsequent loss, the hesitant, wary optimism about their future, and the pleasant atmosphere that surrounds them makes him think it might be okay to be a little more honest for once. "But I like them. They're charming."

"Ah... thanks." Once again: Akira is a hard one to fluster. Still, Akechi steps dangerously close to that boundary with his compliment. It really shouldn't be the case. They're charming could be a completely platonic observation.

And yet, he feels a modicum of heat rising to his cheeks. Akira's grateful for the chill of air against his face; maybe he can blame the color on his face on the numbing cold.

Thankfully, he's soon distracted. A sense of curiosity bubbles up as he turns the words over in his head. Without an explanation, Akira reaches back into his bag to withdraw his glasses again, offering them to Akechi in a clear request for him to try them on.

The blush isn't lost on Akechi this time, and it's... curious, actually, in a way that very few things are. It's not just the cold - for some reason, Akechi is certain of that - but there aren't many things that can actually fluster Akira. Did the compliment just catch him off guard? Is it because it's about the glasses? Or--

His gaze is fixed on Akira, but he's still taken off guard to suddenly be offered the glasses. He's normally adverse to wearing them (Shido wears glasses) but this time he doesn't hesitate. The round black frames and clear lenses are different enough that it doesn't bother him, though as he slides them...

"I probably look like a librarian." Especially with his sweater vest.

Oh, no. This was a bad idea. The warmth under Akira's skin only seems to increase as Akechi looks at him from behind the frames. He's not sure if it's the smile, the fact that it's his glasses, or what, but... it's nice. Akira thinks he's heard Futaba utter the phrase megane fetish before, and it's not until this moment that he understands the grave reality of those words.

Akira somehow manages to whip his brain back into shape enough to give a response. "... It looks like something you borrowed." Okay, he couldn't resist the opportunity to lob that one back at Akechi.

When he speaks again, it's still light, but not for the sake of getting in a jab. "Maybe. More like a teacher's assistant." The kind that's more of a distraction than an asset to the classroom, although that thought is not coming anywhere near Akira's lips.

So it is the glasses making him blush. That just inspires even more questions, though, but before he gets a chance to ask them Akira throws his earlier words back in his face and Akechi can only laugh in response.

"If my eyes start to go, I'll probably stick with contacts." Though his next comment only gets a grin from Akira. That's probably not an unfair comparison - Akechi's definitely too young to be an actual teacher - but that's not going to stop him from trying to turn it back on Akira. "Somehow I don't think you'll agree to calling me 'sensei', though."

Akechi's comment is both a relief and a disappointment. Now that he's stabilized, Akira can study him further. The rounded frames of the glasses make him look a bit... softer, maybe? Not too different from what it does for Akira himself.

"Definitely not," Akira confirms with a short laugh of his own. For more reasons that one. "Even 'Akechi-san' would be pushing it."

Even just hearing 'Akechi-san' from Akira is extremely strange to Akechi, to the point that it's bordering on unpleasant. He doesn't hesitate to shake his head.

"I don't think I'd like that, anyway." He slides the glasses off his face again, though for the moment he simply looks down at them with a faint smile instead of handing them back. "I like that you call me 'Goro'. Not many people do."

He accepts the glasses and once again puts them away, mulling over the words. It's enough to make Akira's heart twist up in his chest for two very different reasons—knowing that it's something reserved for a select few feels nice, but more than that, he wishes Akechi could have that sort of relationship with more people.

"I like it, too." His hands go back into his pockets.

There feels like more he can say here. Akira tip-toes the line, although just for a flash of consideration, before he continues, encouraged by the comfortable atmosphere between them right now. "I'm grateful you gave me the chance to. I know I... wasn't the best friend," he finishes after waffling on the wording. It's kind of an understatement.

Akechi may be a complete novice when it comes to things like friendship and caring about other people, but he's struck by the sheer wrongness of Akira's admission. His smiles fades, replaced by a frustrated frown. Akira is usually the one that reaches for him, but this time Akechi is one to grab Akira's upper arm to tug at him to stop and turn to face him.

"That's not true." Honesty and emotional openness are two things Akechi has always struggled with, and he probably always will. It's especially true in calm moments where there's nothing forcing him to lose his cool, like this one. His next words aren't easy, but he forces them out. It feels too important to leave unsaid. "You're the first person that's ever been close to me. No one else has even tried." That Akira only reached out once he already knew almost everything there is to know about Akechi doesn't diminish what he did. If anything, that just makes it even more significant. "There are plenty of events I would undo if I could, but... I'll never regret having you as my friend."

The sudden grasp on his arm catches Akira off-guard, eyes wide as he stops in his tracks and turns to meet Akechi's.

Even more surprising than the yank are the words that follow. Silence is nothing unusual, coming from Akira, but this is one of the rare occasions when it's been stunned out of him. He listens without interruption, although his brain shouts out a they should when Akechi tells him that nobody else has attempted to become his friend.

Bemusement makes way for something else as it all sinks in. Akira smiles, more to himself than for anyone else's sake, fondness warm in his eyes. Akechi used to say that he's the intriguing one, but haven't the tables turned? Every time Akira looks, he seems to be pushing his boundaries. It makes him feel like he has to sprint to keep up as Akechi constantly changes before his eyes.

"Thanks," he says, because there isn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind that Akechi means what he says. And if that's the case... Shouldn't Akira speak his mind, too? "I won't either. Although... you're more than a friend to me."

In moments like these, when Akechi has dared to actually be open for a change, there's always a part of him that's tense and uneasy. He's eternally suspicious of the motivations of other people, and even when that other person is Akira he can't push that suspicion entirely aside.

It's a good thing that Akira's response does it for him. The smile and the simple thanks aren't much, but Akechi knows what they really mean.

On the other hand, he doesn't know what Akira's next words mean. Now it's his turn to blink, pulse quickening and his grip on Akira's arm tightening just slightly. While he's curious and excited, he can't help but sound mostly puzzled and a bit wary when he speaks. If he's a novice at friendship, then his experience with being more - whether in the sense of being family or something else - is so slim that he may as well have never heard of the concept.

"More...?"

Akira feels the clench of fingers through the layers of fabric, hears the vaguely guarded quality to Akechi's tone. Before, it might have given him pause. Right now, though, he's spurred on by his belief in Akechi's claim that he'll never regret their friendship.

"I like you," he says, voice steady. With as many books as he's read about how to be suave, one would expect a smoother confession, but this one is purely Akira, simple and straightforward.

And while he's not surprised that he has to spell it out, how easily the words come is a bit startling—like they've been waiting to roll off his tongue this entire time. The second they do so, before he can even see Akechi's reaction, Akira is grateful he took the plunge. He knows that if he chose to back away from this moment, he would've spent every day in solitary confinement wondering what would happen if he hadn't.

Akechi doesn't know what he's expecting, or how he'll react to any of the possible answers - but when Akira speaks and sends delight washing over him he can't imagine anything else that could have happened. His expression doesn't reflect his sudden surety, though. He looks shocked, which is quick to fade into a mixture of embarrassment, relief, and simple happiness. He drops his gaze and loosens his grip on Akira's arm, but he doesn't step back and he doesn't let go.

"Sometimes I still don't think I understand you." He sounds almost like he's talking to himself, but for once that's all he says on the subject. Dwelling on his own shortcomings suddenly doesn't seem necessary. "But I feel the same." He lifts his gaze again, body language and expression both relaxed. "I have for a while now."

Although he's certainly wondered before whether the feelings would ever be reciprocated, that isn't Akira's main concern right now. It just feels imperative that he put it out there, that he finally airs yet another thing he's been keeping to himself.

So to see the look on Akechi's face morph into something containing happiness is a pleasant surprise. "Oh," Akira responds dumbly because, well... he didn't prepare for this at all. A grin spreads itself over his face as the joy catches up to him. "I had no idea."

And as much as he feels like he could spend the rest of the night rooted in place, just taking in Akechi's rare open expression, the shift of someone passing by him does remind Akira that they've stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Smile still in place (it'll probably be there for a while), he tips his head in the direction they were headed, a silent suggestion that they continue on.

So many thoughts that Akechi would normally keep at bay - like that Akira's grin is pretty cute - are impossible to keep back right now, so Akechi doesn't even try.

"I wasn't sure how to say it." Or if he should, though he's not going to say that part out loud. It feel silly to think he ever could have doubted Akira's response.

The reminder that they're blocking the sidewalk is enough to make Akechi's hand drift away from Akira's arm and his expression close off a little, his habit of preoccupation with his public image taking over. His smile doesn't fade, though, and when they continue walking he drifts a little closer to Akira than before. Now that he no longer feels pleasantly stuck in the moment, another habit has him trying to play off his embarrassment with humor - but there's no helping the light, almost giddy quality to his tone.

"I suppose it's lucky we're already going out tonight." Akechi has never been on a date in his life, but even he knows that Christmas Eve is something for couples.

As if this turn of events hasn't boosted his spirits enough, the subtle shift in Akechi's demeanor makes the moment that much sweeter. Akira notes the small step inward, putting them almost shoulder-to-shoulder. The urge to reach for Akechi's hand strikes him, a desire to indulge in the warmth of his skin now that he knows it would probably be well-received. He shelves the impulse for now. At least while they're out in the street, anyway. Akira might not be the type to be bothered by what random pedestrians think, but he knows Akechi takes more care with his public image, and he's still plenty recognizable.

Instead, he just glances over with eyebrows quirked behind his unkempt fringe, and—yeah, the smile is still there. "Does that mean we can consider this a first date?" he asks, taking the implication in Akechi's remark.

Akechi, too, is taken by that urge, but he ends up shoving his hands in his pockets to counter it. Caring about something besides his image doesn't mean he's stopped caring about his image.

... It sure would be nice, though. Akechi is actually glad for the distraction that comes with answering Akira's question.

"It would be a waste not to, wouldn't it?" And while Akechi doesn't consider himself romantic, he still thinks the situation is too good to pass up. "And there's no sense in delaying if we don't have to." And maybe, just maybe, he's too excited by this new thing he suddenly has to not want to go all in.

"I like the way you think." His tone is light, thankfully lacking the bittersweet feeling that's rising up from the pit of his stomach. Delaying this would've pushed it back to... who even knows. Akira wonders if he's just made what's going to happen tomorrow that much harder for the both of them, but it's not something he can bring himself to regret. Not when they've apparently both wanted this for a while.

But there will be plenty of time to think about things after tonight. He curtails the thoughts and lets a comfortable silence settle over them for the rest of the walk, until Akechi's lead finally brings their destination into sight. There is indeed a wait to get a table, but even the prospect of standing around in the cold together is oddly exciting.

"How long is 'a while'?" Akira asks after they've been standing for a moment, a sudden reference to the conversation not too long ago.

Despite his chattiness Akechi's never been one to complain about comfortable silences, but right now he feels especially content to let one settle over the two of them. He handles talking to the restaurant and getting themselves a spot in line (the hostess recognizes him, and he's privately hoping it might earn them slightly faster service) but after that he's only too happy to go right back to standing with Akira. He's glad he's thought to bring both of them coats, though.

The question catches Akechi off guard and leaves him feeling... he isn't sure. Not quite embarrassed, but maybe a bit shy. It's not something he's used to feeling, and he covers it up by looking thoughtful.

"Since the day we ran into each other outside the Diet building." The vagueness is partly to avoid saying anything sensitive in public and partly because pinpointing the exact moment is pretty difficult; so much had happened that day that retracing the path his emotional state took is tricky. Even if he could say when exactly he realized it, he's still not sure when it started. Much like Robin Hood, it had simply been there once he looked for it. And normally he might not admit to that, but now... "But it's hard to say. It doesn't feel like my thoughts on you have changed that much."

Ran into each other... that's one way to put it. Akira knows he's being particular with his words on purpose, but the phrasing makes it sound almost humorously casual compared to the complete panic he felt when he saw Akechi there. He can't recall ever experiencing it on that level before, not when coming to months in the past, nor even in the engine room last time.

And speaking of the encounter in engine room—isn't that where this started for Akira? Unlike Akechi, he can pinpoint the moment where his thoughts shifted, and while he doesn't think they were quite romantic, it's what started all of this. It didn't click until recently, but something changed after that encounter, as if seeing the potential of an alternate path for Akechi. One where, maybe if Akira opened himself up and listened a little more, the outcome could be different.

"So since always?" The words are teasing but not maliciously so, eyes a warm counterpoint to the chill biting at his cheeks. It certainly adds another layer to the moments they spent together after that. He carried Akechi up the stairs, after all.

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