[Existential exhaustion does not become Akechi, despite how he wears most things startlingly well. He hates that for so long he made do being alone, even if he forced it on himself and only told himself so many times he was fine that he could recite the lie in his sleep, only for Akira to come along and weaken his functional ability. He hadn't known support in so long he considered it unnecessary, and now there was a handsome young man with piercing eyes and a heart of molten gold constantly vying to be there for him in every way at every turn.]
[It's nauseating.]
[But the private little smiles, honest in the way they're small and focused instead of broad enough that everyone assumes him fine, make his stomach do little somersaults while he's standing still. He draws in a breath, holds it, exhales.]
no subject
[It's nauseating.]
[But the private little smiles, honest in the way they're small and focused instead of broad enough that everyone assumes him fine, make his stomach do little somersaults while he's standing still. He draws in a breath, holds it, exhales.]
Try not to be too disappointed.