[if Akira weren't still a bit disoriented from his return to actual reality, he might take a moment to consider how ridiculous it is to question Minato's genuine existence. the game was advertised as a two-player experienced, and what benefit would the resort gain from having people make fake connections with a simulated computer program? but every time logical thought tries to creep its way back in, it is subsumed by the memories of that smile. of its impermanence, of the way it felt like Minato's existence itself was not meant to be]
Shit. . .
[Akira mutters aloud as he lifts a hand to scrub at his face, as though roughly wiping sleep from his eyes. he hasn't been immune from the resort's whims during his two-month tenure, but. . . this would be the first time he has ever felt like it had truly messed with him]
[. . .]
[he steps forward, walking at a much slower pace now, hand dropping limply back to his side. perhaps it is serendipity. . . or perhaps the Velvet Room is still pulling its mysterious strings in the backgrounds. but as he looks up. . . he sees it]
[a semi-familiar head of blue hair resting inconspicuously in a tiny little alcove, curled up on a bench without a care for it being a very public space. someone tucked so far away from the public eye that Akira may have walked right past him, had he not lifted his gaze at just the right time]
[and just like that, his anxiety evaporates]
Ah. . .
[except. . . now he feels super embarrassed for getting so worked up over nothing. of course Minato had been a real person. why would he ever doubt it? that was a dumb thing to question, Kurusu!! it's a good thing the other Wild Card is napping right now, because the flush on Akira's features would be such a dead giveaway. god. what a loser]
[wait. actually. why the heck is Minato sleeping out in public? that seems like such a bad idea?? HELLO???]
[with a deep exhale to compose himself, Akira plops himself down on the bench next to his fellow Wild Card, before he reaches out to give his shoulder a gentle, but firm, shake]
brings my best to the angst games
Shit. . .
[Akira mutters aloud as he lifts a hand to scrub at his face, as though roughly wiping sleep from his eyes. he hasn't been immune from the resort's whims during his two-month tenure, but. . . this would be the first time he has ever felt like it had truly messed with him]
[. . .]
[he steps forward, walking at a much slower pace now, hand dropping limply back to his side. perhaps it is serendipity. . . or perhaps the Velvet Room is still pulling its mysterious strings in the backgrounds. but as he looks up. . . he sees it]
[a semi-familiar head of blue hair resting inconspicuously in a tiny little alcove, curled up on a bench without a care for it being a very public space. someone tucked so far away from the public eye that Akira may have walked right past him, had he not lifted his gaze at just the right time]
[and just like that, his anxiety evaporates]
Ah. . .
[except. . . now he feels super embarrassed for getting so worked up over nothing. of course Minato had been a real person. why would he ever doubt it? that was a dumb thing to question, Kurusu!! it's a good thing the other Wild Card is napping right now, because the flush on Akira's features would be such a dead giveaway. god. what a loser]
[wait. actually. why the heck is Minato sleeping out in public? that seems like such a bad idea?? HELLO???]
[with a deep exhale to compose himself, Akira plops himself down on the bench next to his fellow Wild Card, before he reaches out to give his shoulder a gentle, but firm, shake]