[ Akira doesn't flinch, this time; he just gazes, unseeingly, across the cafe. There's a child telling her mother all about her day in preschool; the barista is reading a manga in her downtime; everything looks pastel and warm in the morning light and it makes Akira's stomach twist. ]
...I want you. [ It's quiet, careful; it's honest, and that's dangerous, with Akechi, because Akechi is volatile and likely to throw anything honest right back at Akira like he doesn't care about it at all. Like he doesn't care about him at all. ]
If you want time alone, I... get it. [ Time without Akira, he means. He understands, even if he doesn't like it; the thought of being alone makes his stomach roll uncomfortably, because Akira hasn't been alone in a very long time and it turns out he isn't any good at it anymore. ] But I don't want a world if you're not in it.
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...I want you. [ It's quiet, careful; it's honest, and that's dangerous, with Akechi, because Akechi is volatile and likely to throw anything honest right back at Akira like he doesn't care about it at all. Like he doesn't care about him at all. ]
If you want time alone, I... get it. [ Time without Akira, he means. He understands, even if he doesn't like it; the thought of being alone makes his stomach roll uncomfortably, because Akira hasn't been alone in a very long time and it turns out he isn't any good at it anymore. ] But I don't want a world if you're not in it.