You Were The Path I Chose | A Goro Akechi Romance

#1/2 Part #2: Our Lie

... In which I, after choosing the truth, must re-evaluate my priorities and decide whether to reconfirm my confession and pursue a future with Akechi—especially since it's a future I still can't bring him to believe in.

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After a moment of deafening silence, Akechi speaks first. "Come on," he says quietly, turning away. "Let's go somewhere we can actually talk. Because we have to talk."

If he hadn't gripped me by the arm and steadied me, I don't think I would've been able to take a single step. But the way he holds me, firmly, reassuringly, does wonders for my weak legs.

When we come across the entrance to the bathhouse, he halts for a moment, then dips inside. I don't know where he's leading me but he doesn't let go of my arm and I have no intention of making him.

Seconds later, we end up in the adjourning laundry. "Well then." Akechi halts, turns back, and finally lets me go. "Let's try to sort through this situation."

His expression is collected, more so than I hoped it would be after everything that just happened. I stuff my hands into my pockets, trying my hardest to gather the broken shards of my mind and form coherent thoughts. I don't want to think through anything right now, if I'm being honest. I want to curl up in the corner and cry. But . . . I look up at Akechi and try not to feel the stab that comes with seeing his relentlessly stoic face. Like none of what happened this morning meant anything! Like it didn't . . .

Then it hits me—so hard that I feel sick. He is composed, prepared because . . . he knew all along. I stare at him, trying to process it . . . Between the two of us, I was the only one who tried to cling to . . . whatever mirage this was. He knew, and . . . if he hadn't known, hadn't ignored my pleas to stop trying, I would still have it all—for who knows how long?

The thought sends an emotion I can't name down my spine, along with a chill. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice.

> ". . . For how long did you know?"

". . . What made you realize?"

"From the very beginning?" Akechi frowns. "At least . . . I think. I don't actually remember what the "beginning" was, but . . . since this morning?"

He responds to my shocked expression with a look of frustration. So he really did know all along, I think, feeling another surge of that horrible pain. From the moment I woke up in his arms . . . I make an effort not to cling to the blissful memory or dwell on how it felt when he held me, carried me, and spoke to me in that almost carefree, playful voice that made me long for it to be like this the next and every morning. But . . . I bite down on my lip until it hurts. There wouldn't be a next morning with him. There would be . . . Would there be anything at all?

"There was a discrepancy between what I was seeing and what I thought I remembered," Akechi continues. "I remember turning myself in to the police on Christmas Eve. Your memory of this is now in tact, correct?"

The recollection sinks into me, carrying emotions and . . . wishes that I had. Wishes that almost came true today. But I don't cling to them either, because if I do, I'll lose the last bits of composure I have left. So, all I do is nod.

"So it did happen," Akechi says. "Only not in that . . . timeline? It made no sense, less and less the more I thought about it, about myself. It took a bit of reasoning and truthfulness, but ultimately, not much was needed to expose everything that surrounded me as the lie it was. That's the long and short of it."