[ Akira jerks back like Akechi hit him. It might be easier if he had. Akira's been waiting for it since the previous night, and Akechi just keeps -- not doing it. They're both waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It comes all in a rush: the hot heat at the corner of his eyes, the knowledge that if he tries to speak his voice is just going to break, the way his pulse kicks up a staccato beat in his chest that makes him feel like he's dying. Like maybe he wants to.
Instead, he just steps around the table, reaches out -- falters; looks away. He just barely brushes against the side of Akechi's elbow. ]
Let's -- leave. [ It's all he can manage right now. They're causing a scene and Akira can't deal with it; can't deal with the idea of other people looking at him in their perfect world that he's going to destroy. ]
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It comes all in a rush: the hot heat at the corner of his eyes, the knowledge that if he tries to speak his voice is just going to break, the way his pulse kicks up a staccato beat in his chest that makes him feel like he's dying. Like maybe he wants to.
Instead, he just steps around the table, reaches out -- falters; looks away. He just barely brushes against the side of Akechi's elbow. ]
Let's -- leave. [ It's all he can manage right now. They're causing a scene and Akira can't deal with it; can't deal with the idea of other people looking at him in their perfect world that he's going to destroy. ]