#p5 reader insert

You were beginning to feel like a porcelain doll. Fake smile, pretty hair… fragile and right about to break if shoved to the side.

Which, unfortunately for you, this was exactly the case since you met Akira. You could feel you weren’t ever a priority for him. Always shoved to the side… to be dealt with later at a more convenient time. It begs the question- what on earth was Akira’s priority anyway?

You had accepted since that rainy Sunday spent alone in a booth that you would never get an answer and your friendship with the entire group of misplaced misfits would never get better. If they wanted to brush you off… you figured you would do the same. Smile, say the right things, do what’s expected of you at the moment… but not a lick more than that. It was only fair. Why give and give when you are never given back? 

You felt hollow like a porcelain doll, too.

I’m a shapeshifter at Poe’s masquerade, 

Hiding both face and mind, 

All free for you to draw.

I’m a shapeshifter, 

What else should I be?

Please don’t take off my mask, 

Revealing dark…

“Has anyone noticed something off about ___ lately?” Makoto is the one to bring it up during their meeting in Le’Blanc. Everyone exchanges glances and nods and the student council president sighs. 

“They’ve seemed… I don’t know? Less spunky?” Ryuji scrunches up his face in confusion. 

“I’d say less energetic,” Ann butts in, “less… like ___. Like they’re trying to be someone else.”

“Withdrawn,” Akira says simply, the one word like the final puzzle piece everyone needed. Ryuji lights up. 

“Yeah, that’s it!” And then he dims down again. “But why?” 

“You don’t think something happened, do you?” Futaba fidgets in her spot, frowning and Makoto softly rubs her back. 

“It’s possible,” she sighs. “But I don’t know what it could be.”

Yusuke hums, a contemplative look on his face as he cups his cheek. “They don’t have family troubles, do they?”

“I don’t know a lot about their home life…” Akira says, and everyone else seems to feel the same. 

“Well, what do you guys know?” Morgana looks skeptically across the room, stretching his back lazily on the table. By now, he’s expected an answer, but as he looks at the group, he sees the lost expression everyone wears. Morgana’s ears droop back. “...I think that’s the issue.” 

Indeed. 

Moments of calm

Nothing left to be found 

A mirror right in front of me; 

That’s where I find an empty glass

Reflecting the sad truth,

It’s telling words not to be told...

Your grades were never the best, but they haven’t been getting better. They’ve taken a long steep dive into No Coming Back- This is Bad territory, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You never really cared about school what with their corrupt system and unfair teachers anyway- you only came for your friends. 

But you don’t really have friends anymore, so… 

You don’t know why you keep going to school if it’s only to look out the window and fail tests and wish you were anywhere else but there- seeing the people you love, being in their reach, and yet never being spared a glance. 

Home isn’t much better either. Your father basically hates you, always has, and he hates your grades- he thinks you’re a failure and he makes sure you know it every time you come home. 

You know you’re a failure.

For a second, you thought you weren’t. You thought, hey, I can do this. I can be someone- something-- if I can be with them.

But they’re gone, and they took a sacred part of you with them, so now you’re stumbling and trying to piece yourself back together. 

But you have no idea how.

I need the mask.

You don’t really care for Sundays. School isn’t in, which means you can stay home with your unhappy father or you can go outside and be all by your lonesome. Of course, the answer is always to go outside- you can’t stand the stiff and horrid energy your father gives, making anxiety swirl in your stomach all day. 

You’re wondering where you could possibly spend your day when an unexpected ting comes from your phone. 

Even more unexpectedly, it’s from Akira.

Akira: Are you busy today? 

You purse your lips and wonder what he could possibly want. 

You: Why?

---

Akira and Morgana sigh at your response. “That’s not really a good sign, is it?” The cat looks worriedly at the phone and Akira frowns. No, it’s not, but at least you replied, right?

“Just keep trying,” he huffs and types on the keyboard, trying again.

Akira: I wanted to hang out, all of us. Morgana misses you.

Said cat smacks at his hand, claws out and all and Akira yelps. “What?!”

“You can’t even give them the simple knowledge that you miss them, too?!” 

“Well-”

The phone buzzes, taking his attention away from his angry partner. 

You: Oh. I don’t know, don’t you guys hang out a lot? I don’t want to intrude.

You: If you wanted to hang out with someone, you should ask the people you really want to see.

Needless to say, his heart sinks. 

---

Akira: I asked you because I want to see you. I’m sorry I haven’t lately. 

You: Do you even remember last Sunday?

Akira: Why?

You: Then you don’t. You wanted to ‘hang out’ then too, but not with me. You had time for everyone else, but couldn’t even give me a message to stop waiting for you in the diner. 

You: Stop acting like you care when you don’t.

Sent at 9:33am.

---

There’s a hot, sizzling, awful feeling inside your stomach that reminds you of anger as you shove your phone in your pocket and continue to walk aimlessly around Shibuya- but with a lot more power in your steps than before. There’s another feeling besides that, just beneath the anger- a watery, upset and guilty feeling. You know you shouldn’t have snapped. 

How unlike you, right? 

You have to remember to play the part, don’t you? Act like you don’t care, act as a friend, act like you’re okay, act, act, act act act act- 

Your phone is buzzing but you can’t bring yourself to look at it as you- unknowingly- make your path to the diner and inside. You aren’t even aware that you’ve ordered a coffee until the kind waitress with sympathetic eyes places it down in front of you. 

A watery, broken sigh escapes you as you hide your face in your hands, trying to quell down your crying, but you can’t. Silently you weep alone in the corner of the diner, shoulders shaking and composure breaking. 

I’m a shapeshifter, 

Chained down to my core. 

Please don’t take off my mask, 

My place to hide…

“Why’d you call a meeting so early?” Ryuji yawns from his place on Akira’s couch. Futaba doesn’t look much better, more or less falling asleep as she leans against the blonde. Makoto rolls her eyes. 

“It’s 10.”

“Way too early,” Futaba groans, her eyes drooping before Akira smacks the table. The sound is enough to wake everyone up, standing alert and ready as they look to their leader. He drops his phone on the table, free for everyone to see as he frowns deeply. 

“We have a problem,” is all he says. 

It doesn’t take long for everyone to read it and for the facts to sink in. “Last Sunday…” Haru speaks. “It was raining, wasn’t it?” 

“Which means we probably went to Mementos…” Makoto raises a hand to her forehead, a guilty look on her face. 

“What do we do?” Ann questions, nervously tugging on her pigtails. “I… don’t think this is going to be easy.”

“The fact we barely know anything real about them and we still managed to let them down isn’t very encouraging,” Yusuke says. 

“I hate to be the one who says it,” Ryuji stiffens up, “but what can we do? Mementos, palaces… it’s bigger than them. We have to do this. We can’t help that they aren’t a part of it.” 

Everyone glares at him, but only because they know that he’s right. Except for one.

“You’re all hypocrites,” Akira hisses through his teeth, his expression furious as he gestures to his messages on the phone. “You all make time for someone! Makoto, you still talk to Eiko, and Ann still makes time to visit Shiho!” The leader angrily pockets his phone. “We all have somebody outside of this- this thing we’re trying to do. I thought you all cared for ___. Are they really so easy to push aside?” 

And yet, something curls unsteady in his stomach. Whispers in his ear, are you free of blame? Didn’t you do the same? Wasn’t it so easy to forget they were ever around?

Akira feels sick. With himself and with his friends. He knows it’s probably just the stress of school and the deadline- but their implications toward their friendship with ____ just--- he couldn’t believe it. 

“I’m going to go see them. I’m going to fix this. They deserve more than what we’ve been giving them.” 

What he has been giving them.

——

Alone in the diner, you begin to dwell on the past. It’s something you do a lot because it’s easy- the present is so sad and hard, so you’d rather think about another time when things were better. You still remember how you met Akira- and by meeting him, you eventually met everyone else. 

He had been studying in the library. Makoto was there too, she always was, but she had a fine way of tuning everyone out as she absorbed herself in her studies. She didn’t hear the relentless whispering from all around the room- all targeted at the new boy. But you did. 

How can anyone focus with all this noise? You watch him carefully- it’s a little hard since he’s hidden behind a cubby, and you feel a little creepy for trying so hard- but you want to know if he’s bothered. Does he notice how people talk to him? How can he stand it?

Do you think he’s studying, or do you think he’s planning his next crime?

The voice reaches out a little more than the rest- when you glare at the person it came from, they don’t seem to notice or care. And then you look back at Akira- you notice how his pen has stopped moving and his shoulders are stiff. 

So he noticed it, then. 

You knew what it was like to be rumored about and bullied. It’s not hard to become the butt of the joke in school- kids are judgemental and mean, it’s just what they do. But this seems too unfair… can’t you do something?

Without realizing it, you’ve walked up to Akira’s cubby and tapped on his shoulder. He merely looks up at you, a concerned look in his eye that you don’t blame him for.

“Hey, if you want to study without any noise…” You slowly start, “I know that the club room on this floor is empty right now.” 

There’s a nervous beat in your chest as you offer this to him. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way- you don’t want to get rid of him, you just want to help. You readjust your school bag on your shoulder as he refuses to respond. “Anyway, that’s where I’m going. You’re free to use it, too, if you need to.” 

Surprisingly, he stands up immediately, gathering the loose books in the cubby and putting them in his own bag. You wonder for a second if he’s about to dash off before he turns to you, a sincere look on his face. 

“Thank you. I’d like to go somewhere quiet.”

And that’s how it all started- simple as that. An act of kindness for your schoolmate turned into frequent study sessions in the empty club room, which gradually filled up with more people as the months went by. That’s how your friendship with them all started. It wasn’t the most exciting story, but you look back on that day and the ones it followed with a sad smile. 

The club room is no longer filled with the rowdy group after school. Eventually, it was just you- and then you couldn’t bear to be there alone anymore, and the club room became abandoned and cold. 

Thinking about it makes you want to cry again- but you think you’ve worried the poor waitress serving you enough today. It’s already a little past noon, hours flying by without you noticing it, and you should probably head home for the day. Nothing is waiting for you here. 

As you call the waitress and fumble for your wallet, the door of the diner slams open- hard- catching everyone’s attention as a dark-haired boy rushes through. Your eyes are wide as you realize who it is.

It’s Akira, and rather abruptly, he heads right for you and sits in the booth seat across from you. His cheeks are flushed and hair is unusually wild as if he’d been running, but he grins at the waitress even as he’s out of breath. “I’ll have a coffee, please,” he says. 

“O-okay,” she’s about as confused as everyone else, including you, but she hurriedly walks away with Akira’s order and the people in the diner collectively begin to mind their own business. 

Now it’s you and him- in the diner sat in a booth, on a Sunday- exactly what you were supposed to be doing before. But this time, it’s not raining. 

“You look like you ran a marathon,” for some reason this is the first thing you can think to say. Akira laughs, subtly fixing his glasses and smoothing out his hair as he does. You didn’t mean it in a bad way- he looks handsome either way. 

“You weren’t answering your phone, so I just ran everywhere I thought you might be until I found you.” 

Right. You had put your phone on silent. Wiggling it out of your pocket, as soon as the screen turns on you see dozens of messages, all from Akira. You instantly feel bad, but before you can say anything, Akira’s hand reaches across the table and covers your phone, forcing you to put it down. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I get it. I, uh,” he stutters, “I wouldn’t want to answer me either if I were you.”

“What are you doing here, Kurusu?” You ask him before you don’t have the guts anymore. Being here with him… It makes you anxious. You forgot what it was like to talk to him. 

Your choice in name visibly upsets him, but he doesn’t say anything about it. You feel it’s appropriate- you hadn’t talked in such a long time, you no longer felt that you should use his given name. It doesn’t feel right. 

“I wanted to see you,” Akira says. The waitress suddenly appears with his order, not saying anything as she quickly leaves after his quiet ‘thank you’, and then he continues. “I wanted to apologize for not being around lately… We’ve all noticed that you’ve been acting differently- but- we didn’t do anything. And I’m sorry.”

“Well, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” you frown, your eyes stinging as you look at the table. 

“I know it doesn’t… but I needed to say it. And I wanted… to spend today with you, if you’d let me. I want to fix it.”

You know he’s sincere- Akira doesn’t lie, not often anyway. He doesn’t lie to you- to his friends. Immediately, you want to say yes- please be my friend again, please make it feel better. 

But you can’t. 

“I can’t,” you say. “I… it doesn’t work like that. I can’t be your friend again while knowing I might not be your friend tomorrow, the next day, or next week… You just disappear, Kurusu, you all do. You all disappear and I don’t know why, but I can’t stand it.” Your hands wring together on top of the table nervously, your heart beating a bit too fast. You hate admitting it to him, but you can’t deny it anymore- whatever they’re doing, you’re not a part of it. It’s so painfully obvious that they don’t trust you, and it makes you feel like shit. 

Akira seems to be at a loss for words. The two of you sit in an upsetting silence- you want to apologize and make him feel better, but you can’t do that anymore, so you stay quiet. 

“Every… every Sunday,” Akira starts. You look up at him slowly. “Every Sunday, I’ll be here. And I can’t promise I can always bring everyone with me, but I’ll… I’ll be here. All day.” 

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” you sigh and he quickly shakes his head. 

“I do mean it. I told you- I want to fix it.” 

His hand reaches out again, softly grasping one of your own clammy hands. “I can’t tell you exactly what we’re doing… But I can tell you that the group and I… we’re doing something, and it’s dangerous. It’s exhausting. And I don’t want you to be a part of it because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

What… on earth does that mean? Your chest feels heavy as you hold his hand back, worry in your eyes. What are they doing that would make him say that- make him look so upset and tense?

“But I still want to be friends with you- you’re dear to me. I don’t want to lose you because I made the mistake of getting caught up in other things.”

You’re dear to me. 

Those words seem to break you apart. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry again today, but the tears fall before you can even catch them. You sniffle pathetically, holding Akira’s hand tighter as you cry. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. Before you realize what’s happening, Akira is standing up, moving around the table so he can sit beside you, still holding your hand. 

“Don’t be.” He whispers, his other arm wrapping around you and holding you against him. 

And it’s been so, so long since you felt this wanted- it breaks you all over again and you continue to cry, basked in the warmth that is Akira as he refuses to let you go. “Every Sunday?” You ask him, quiet and meek. A part of you is embarrassed to have him see you cry like this, but most of you is too overwhelmed to care. 

You had been foolish, but not desperate.

When a seemingly attractive acquaintance had sidled up to you with an empty proposal of altering your single status, you had agreed, mostly out of boredom. The first ‘date’ had been uninteresting, and though you weren’t eager to commit just yet, you had supposed that having some form of companionship would be better than having none at all.

While immersed in your thoughts, the barista’s furrowed brows and questioning eyes seem to escape your notice. But you certainly don’t expect him to walk towards you with a plate of something savory on a tray.

“It seemed appropriate,” is what he says, eyeing the clock with the faintest of smiles adorning his lips.

“I’m so sorry,” you begin, immediately shoving most of your items into your bag. “I really can’t accept this, not when I’ve inconvenienced you for so long. I should really get goi—“

“I don’t mind.”

The softness in his tone draws your lowered gaze upwards, and you find yourself captivated by the stormy hue of his eyes. There’s warmth in his expression and in his smile, and it isn’t of the pitying sort. Rather, it’s a look of quiet understanding.

“I live nearby,” he continues, moving to delicately wipe his hands on his worn apron. “And there’s leftover curry.”

Somehow, you can’t help but doubt the reliability of the latter statement, but you make no effort to voice your concerns. “Thank you. How much would that be?”

He shakes his head. “Too much of leftover curry,” he repeats, quietly retreating to his position by the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for a few bottles on the shelf. Once you’re certain that his attention is elsewhere, you reach out for a spoonful of curry. It’s almost unbearably spicy, but you don’t seem to mind, even though your watering eyes indicate otherwise. 

Nevertheless, you manage to finish, and you move towards the counter, throat burning but heart warmed.

“Thank you,” you manage, gnawing on your lower lip. “I really needed that.”

He nods, merely replying with a soft hum of acknowledgment.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, may I know your name?”

Half a minute passes before he looks up, and this time, the smile he offers you is gentler and more genuine than before.

“Then, may I know yours?”

A/N: I don’t always write drabbles, but I’ve been in a bad mood for a while, and writing this seemed to clear the air. It’s probably got tons of mistakes though, which I’ll return to correct at a later date. Thank you for reading~!

Your only solace is coming home- home, where you can finally relax in bed and pretend that waking up tomorrow won’t bring the exact same bullshit as today. You live by yourself in a small apartment, so it was actually a little lonely when you came home, but Morgana would stay at your place sometimes to keep you company. But when you came home today, it wasn’t Morgana who was waiting for you on your couch. 

It was Ryuji. 

You drop your bag with a sigh, shutting the door and looking at him with pathetic puppy eyes as you hold out your arms. “Ryuji, hold me,” you whine, “today’s been a pile of garbage.” 

Ryuji looks up at you surprised from his comic that he was reading, but he’s quick on his feet to spring up and head over to you. “Aw, baby, it’s the end of the world, isn’t it?” He coos and scoops you in his arms. Your boyfriend wasn’t the strongest- in fact, he was quite lean and just a lot of limbs, but you find familiar comfort in his embrace as he leads you to the couch. 

“It is,” you tell him, sitting down on the lumpy cushions while keeping your hold on him. “I hate going to school. I hate going to work.”

“Tell me about it,” he groans and relaxes, one of his hands coming up and combing through your hair. You spare him a glance with a smile. 

“Did you have a shitty day, too?”

“I guess so. It’s just the same shit, y’know? It gets exhausting so I thought I’d come here and see you.” 

Ugh, you love him. No one understands you as much as Ryuji does. 

“Thank you, and I totally get what you mean,” you put your face in his neck and cuddle closer. “What comic did you bring?”

“Oh, you’re going to love it!” Ryuji brightens up in a second as he leans forward to grab the book he discarded before, and then he falls into a long ramble as he tells you the plot and begins to show you the panels. 

Eventually, the two of you order a pizza, continuing to cuddle and talk on the couch. When the pizza guy comes, you actually have him come in the house and set it on the coffee table in front of you so you don’t have to get up- you tip the guy generously for letting you be lazy.