Akira wasn't there. Part of him still doesn't know why he went. A much worse part of him, buried deep in the distorted rot of his own heart, knows all too well. Past the end of summer, not quite yet the beginning of autumn. That no-man's land of time in September when the back of his teeth itched every day with the desire to see Akira again, to tell him about all the work he'd done on his paper over their break, all the work Maruki never would have been able to dream of doing without his influence. The warmth of Leblanc on a cool evening, the best coffee he'd ever tasted, the book he laid out on the counter as if a greater force was guiding his hand.
There is a memory–
Akira was there. The best coffee he'd ever tasted, handed to him right alongside the keys to the collective unconscious. That greater force right before him, bright and honest.
Maruki takes the cup. It isn't the same. Akira isn't the same. He isn't the same.
Maybe it's better that way.
He holds it in both hands, props his elbows up on the table to hold it just beneath his chin, steam curling up around his glasses as he smiles at this new Akira and tries his level best to mend his own heart. Beneath the table, he knocks his knee sideways against Eren's and rests it there. ]
You'll learn a lot here. We all have. I'm looking forward to it, Kurusu-kun.
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Akira wasn't there. Part of him still doesn't know why he went. A much worse part of him, buried deep in the distorted rot of his own heart, knows all too well. Past the end of summer, not quite yet the beginning of autumn. That no-man's land of time in September when the back of his teeth itched every day with the desire to see Akira again, to tell him about all the work he'd done on his paper over their break, all the work Maruki never would have been able to dream of doing without his influence. The warmth of Leblanc on a cool evening, the best coffee he'd ever tasted, the book he laid out on the counter as if a greater force was guiding his hand.
There is a memory–
Akira was there. The best coffee he'd ever tasted, handed to him right alongside the keys to the collective unconscious. That greater force right before him, bright and honest.
Maruki takes the cup. It isn't the same. Akira isn't the same. He isn't the same.
Maybe it's better that way.
He holds it in both hands, props his elbows up on the table to hold it just beneath his chin, steam curling up around his glasses as he smiles at this new Akira and tries his level best to mend his own heart. Beneath the table, he knocks his knee sideways against Eren's and rests it there. ]
You'll learn a lot here. We all have. I'm looking forward to it, Kurusu-kun.