"Koutarou Amon, I hate you."
He hadn't expected anything else, but that didn't make it any less painful.
Amon stopped the car when he reached Akira's apartment and checked the backseat. She was still out. Who knew one glass of alcohol could make her so insensate?
Sighing, he pulled her out and adjusted her on his back. That roused her enough to wrap her arms loosely around his neck, her hair brushing against his neck, and he tried to ignore the enticing scent of lavender wafting from her.
If this was a portent of the future, it was the last time he was letting her drink.
"Akira, where are your house keys?"
"Purse," she slurred before falling asleep again.
It was odd stepping into her home, especially with the cat that seemed to be passing judgement on him. He walked into the living room, which was as neat as one would expect from Akira and had very little in the way of personal items, except for some trophies and a photo.
He peered closer… oh, it was of Mr. Mado and Akira. Amon turned away from it guiltily, focusing on putting Akira to bed and getting her some water to drink.
That was enough, right? He could leave now—
A slender hand gripped his own with unexpected strength.
Amon found himself unable to move as her fingers intertwined with his and squeezed.
And so he stayed to watch over her. It was beyond embarrassing when she had started removing her clothes, and he was on the verge of leaving again, if she hadn't then complained about feeling sick.
Even though it was midnight and he didn't know anything about the area, Amon rushed out in search of a store. The ten minutes it took him to find it were ten minutes in which he was helplessly worried for Akira.
When he returned, she was still turning in bed, so he pulled her upright and fed her the medicine. She leaned into him, relaxed, and he couldn't help but smile. They would definitely have to discuss this in the morning, but at least Akira was fine now.
He stood up to leave again, but was brought down to his knees by a sudden tug on the back of his coat. Something soft and warm pressed against him… Akira. She wrapped her arms around him and Amon felt his heart race a mile a minute just from the contact. Could she hear the loud thumping as well as it sounded in his ears?
"Don't go."
Amon swallowed. The rush of heat through him, the painful tightening in his chest… those were all things he had felt once, for one woman… Harima's face flashed in his mind.
As much as he wanted to deny the truth he had stumbled upon, he couldn't.
Somehow, at some point, he had started to care for Akira as more than just a subordinate.
Right then she burst into tears, and he realised he had never felt worse.
