my saving grace ~ terukane

oh, who is she?

Akane Aoi is many things. A half-supernatural, vice president of the Kamome Gakuen Student Council, and much more.

The most obvious trait is his tendency to rip himself to shreds to please others. It's hard to pinpoint where it began, exactly- maybe when his parents sat him down and told him he was being too loud, or when his teachers asked him to help a boy he didn't particularly like.

Whatever the case, Akane considers himself an expert at solving problems. He's the person everyone looks too for assistance, whether it's asking for a bandaid or advice on a project. He's picked up so many hobbies and dropped them, but you wouldn't even need to meet him to declare this a problem.

He groans, rolling over in his bed. This is why he hates staying up late, he always gets stuck in his mind like this.

He glances over at his work desk, filled to the brim with paperwork and assignments, before sighing and standing up.

Akane is many things, but one thing he isn't is a coward. He's always been bold about everything, his feelings, ideals, beliefs, all whilst carefully making sure no one was offended or upset.

On the few occasions where Akane bothered to meditate, look deeper into himself, he noticed something odd.

A deep, festering emotion that refused to vanish, no matter what he did.

It was rooted deep into his soul, wrapped around it carefully like some mock imitation of a present.

Akane scowls, picking up a pen and beginning to work.

They were shackles he couldn't remove, the strong feeling enough to make him choke on his tears. He couldn't escape them, so he ignored them.

Akane has a fairly busy schedule, always filled to the brim with work, clock keeper duties, student council paperwork, extracurriculars, friends, anything and everything to avoid his own feelings.

He's sitting at his desk at 3AM when he realizes it. He looks over the piles and piles of work, the crushed energy drinks and empty mugs of coffee, the tear stains and eraser residue from angry erasing and– oh.

Akane Aoi is not happy.

A frown, Akane holds his chin with one hand and rubs his eyes with another. But why not?

He had straight A’s, and plenty of friends. He was nice, relatively popular even, and even with the infuriating student council president, Akane lived a nice, privileged life.

Running his hands through his hair– Akane frowned, when did it get so oily? –he stands up and stretches, wincing at the cracking he hears going through his bones. How long had he been sitting here?

Akane stumbles over the objects on his floor, when he hears a soft knock. Blinking, he turns around to see the bane of his existence, the student council president, the exorcist, his reluctant friend.

Teru Minamoto.

The boy in question waves a soft hello, holding his arm like he would keel over if he didn’t. Akane blinks, sighing, and rubbing his forehead before walking over to his window and opening it with a click.

“How’s my favorite vice president?” Teru smiles, though it seems more hollow then intended.

Akane snorts. “I’m your only vice president.”

Pulling the blond haired boy inside, Akane watches as Teru fumbles on his feet, glancing around the room and trying to make sense of his surroundings in the dark.

Their dynamic was a funny one. They had shared their deepest secrets, their thoughts, feelings– despite being on opposite sides of the mortal plane, their relationship was built on nothing but pure, unadulterated trust.

“Where’s the wound this time?”

"What makes you assume I'm wounded? For all you know, I could be checking on you out of the goodness in my heart-"

"Minamoto-kaichou."

Teru chuckles airily before shrugging off his coat, revealing a nasty gash that sliced down his arm. Rummaging around his first aid kit, Akane sighs.

Teru Minamoto, star student, star president, star exorcist. Up until their first meeting, Akane had put the boy on a pedestal. Regarded him as someone who has everything sorted out, who had everything under control.

Picking up the gauze, Akane stares at the same boy he used to hold in high regard, who’s smiling blankly and staring back.

“Take a picture,” Teru huffs a laugh, before wincing. “It’ll last longer.”

Akane scowls, wrapping the bandages around the injured arm. “I can kick you out, don’t test me.”

“You and I both know you won’t.”

Akane simply scoffs, choosing not to respond to the remark. Yanking a bit harder than necessary to secure the gauze, the boy nods at his work. “There.”

And then he pauses again, taking in Teru’s appearance. Akane opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again to speak. “President.”

“Hm?” Teru was currently in the process of searching the (admittedly) messy floors for his jacket.

“Are you happy?”

The exorcist pauses, his ever-constant smile faltering. He hums, seemingly thinking over his response, before slowly responding. “I’m content.”

Akane simply sighs, gets up, and turns on the light to his room. Teru hisses, shielding his eyes and blinking to try and adjust to the light. “Your room is a mess.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Stretching, Akane huffs out a breath before looking back at Teru. The boy had already put his jacket back on, and was looking over Akane’s desk.

If someone like Teru isn’t happy- someone who has everything yet nothing- then that means Akane doesn’t necessarily have to be happy. Meaning logically, Akane is allowed to not be happy. He wants to cry at this revolution.

He stays silent.

“...these don’t need to be submitted for a few months.” Teru puzzles over the pages scattered on the desk, frowning for once. “When’s the last time you’ve slept?”

Akane yawns, trying to think. “48 hours ago?? 49?”

Teru turns sharply, eyes wide. “Jesus. You need sleep.”

“Pot calling kettle black.” Akane moves to sit back down at his desk, hissing when Teru yanks the chair out from under him. “Wha-?”

“I’m not leaving until you sleep.”

It’s the tone Teru uses when he’s making an announcement to the student body, or to the council. The, ‘this is a gentle, yet threatening reminder’ voice. The one that Akane had never dared to argue.

So Akane doesn’t. He doesn’t argue when Teru gently shoves him into bed, doesn’t argue when Teru sloppily pulls the cover over Akane, doesn’t argue when Teru closes his laptop.

“Sleep.”