Akira's POV
The apartment still carried the residual quiet of the night before. The north-facing light, the thin walls. The low continuous press of the city's mana field against the glass.
I had woken earlier than usual, another dream still clinging in places the suppression protocols could not quite reach. The phantom stretch. The weight of Kael's hands. The way the peachy scent had thickened in the dark until it felt like something separate from me.
I made coffee but did not drink it. Couldn't rather. The sat at the small table with the same light that had appeared in the Winged Lion's projection and let the morning settle around the facts I already knew.
Thursday was tomorrow.
Our kiss had happened. And the dreams had followed. The doubts however remained. They were clear, quiet, and unrejected. We were men. Are men. The shape of what sat between us did not match the ordinary patterns the system or the previous Akira's memories had prepared me for.
