stealhearted | after me comes the flood;

[He'll apologize for the bruise and the kink if he finds out about them. You should have said it was uncomfortable, Akira.]

[He breathes carefully for a while to settle his heartbeat, curling forward and claiming his own cup of coffee. He drinks about a third of it before looking across the cafe to Sojiro for a moment, trying to put his brain into a state that he can say something. He fails, so he just huddles back around his coffee and scoots out of the booth, nodding to Akira.]

[ Akira would rather die than tell Akechi any part of getting to hold him while he slept was remotely uncomfortable. There are just some things in the world that Akira will take to his grave, and that is absolutely one of them.

Akira, for his part, slinks out of the booth like he's the one that's part cat, stretching out as he sips his coffee. ]

Okay. I'll grab some stuff for you. [ The only bathroom is still the Leblanc one, but Akira runs upstairs -- taking them two at a time -- to grab his admittedly basic toiletries and a change of clothes that doesn't scream 'slept in', since he's pretty sure that's not the vibe Akechi is trying to give off.

Akechi's a little more filled out in this reality, but Akira is pretty sure they'll still fit. Also, he wants to see Akechi in a v-neck. ]

Here.

[He's perched carefully on the end of the same booth seat Akira left him on working on his coffee, and tips the cup back to finish it as he returns with toiletries and clothes to borrow. He stands, moving carefully, a bit like he isn't sure of how to step. There's so much that's odd and confusing to him, half-conscious and out of sorts.]

[He claims the items, nodding, but still doesn't say anything, hugging the clothes to himself for a moment. He looks from Akira to the bathroom door and back, wordlessly asking if he should, or possibly even if he can, use it to change.]

Morgana's still in the attic, so that's your best bet. [ Morgana, who is most of the reason Akira decided that sleeping in a booth was a better alternative -- Morgana, who has been slightly moody ever since Akira made an offhanded comment about him being a cat.

At least he's been careful not to call Akechi a murderer.

For Akira's part, he doesn't mind changing upstairs -- so once Akechi is ensconced in the bathroom, he dodges up to do exactly that. He doesn't need to do much to his hair to be vaguely presentable, so he's back before Akechi is out, helping Sojiro portion up some food. He remembers how Akechi eats, so his portion is less curry and more rice with some furikake; delicate seasonings, given that he's so stressed his stomach is probably less than happy. ]

[Please don't slip up and call him a murderer, now that he's got it in his head he will react so badly.]

[He ducks into the bathroom and changes slowly, staying away from the mirror and taking his time to ward off the lingering ache from his dream. He circles around a few times from trying so hard not to think about it that he can't stop thinking about it, winds up dry-heaving over the toilet for a while, sitting with his back pressed to the wall to cool off his overheated skin. His hair is more or less a lost cause, but he combs it into as much submission as he can, even if some of it sticks to the back of his neck.]

[He exits the bathroom looking more or less alive, even for being pale and a little shaky, and lingers near the stairs in favor of sticking to Akira rather than chancing trying to talk to Sojiro.]

[ Sojiro takes one look at them and then: ]

「 Kid, you're taking a sick day. 」

[ Akira opens his mouth to protest, and Sojiro just gives them both a look, because Sojiro is the last person to ever advocate skipping school -- but this Sojiro likes Akechi; this Sojiro has never had a need to dislike the good influence on Akira's life, the prim and proper honor student that has been playing at teenage love for the past several months.

Akira lets his hand drift closer to Akechi, letting it fall reassuringly onto his back. Maybe it will be better to wake Akechi up. His Akechi -- the real Akechi -- he's already gone through this guilt, hasn't he? He's already put it behind him.

But... ]

I'll study with you, if you're worried about missing class. [ Akira reaches out to gently brush at Akechi's bangs. He doesn't say it, but Akechi still looks a little like shit. He's still a radiant beauty in Akira's eyes, but one that's gone through a violent wash cycle in a laundry machine. ]

I-- can't miss class, this close to exams, [He says it suddenly and his voice cracks, and he's hoarse and it really only cements how much being Akechi Goro sucks right now? He clears his throat but doesn't try to fix the disaster of a sentence, straightening his shoulders when Akira puts his hand on his back.] ...I can't miss, [He says it quieter, this time, and doesn't dissuade Akira's hand from his hair. That alone should say plenty.]

You wouldn't be able to concentrate on learning anyway. [ Akira knows Akechi, and knows even this one is still concerned with appearances -- he'd be so busy trying to make it seem like he was fine that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else, and so he might as well just save himself some grief and skip the acting. ]

「 You want to give me your mom's number? 」

[ Akira is mildly impressed that Sojiro can tell so easily that Akechi is the sort of kid who doesn't like anyone else to do anything for him -- he asks for the number instead of simply doing it -- but Akira figures Sojiro's pretty used to being surrounded by a bunch of stubborn kids.

Huh, this time none of them even have PTSD. Yet. ]

We can have a study group when you're feeling better. I'll invite Makoto. It'll be like you never missed class.

Edited 2021-07-05 02:30 (UTC)

[He looks to Akira, opens his mouth like he's considering protesting, but he's right, so he doesn't. He closes his mouth again, and then turns to Sojiro with a bit more fear in his eyes and his posture.]

I-- it's okay, she knows I'm here. I texted her before I left...

[He's confused by how suffocated he feels by their care. He's always been relatively independent, if a complete Mama's Boy, but something about this feels far worse than it should. He feels like he's pressed between two large inflatable objects that are still being filled with air, and they're compressing him between them steadily. He shakes his head with a startled intake of breath at the mention of Makoto.] It-- it's fine, I'm--

[The bell above the door chimes and Futaba bursts through the door, and Akechi blanches nearly white when her mother trails in after her.]

[ Morgana trails down the stairs, yawning, at the same time, and for a moment Akira feels absolutely overwhelmed at juggling all the pieces of everyone's alternate lives. The lie felt smaller when he was dealing with them one at a time, but now -- seeing Futaba chirp a good morning and Wakaba offer Sojiro a considerably calmer smile; seeing the way Morgana still tries to twine himself around a chair before he sits in it; the way Akechi goes pale at seeing Wakaba.

It's too much. ]

「 Wow, you kind of look like crap, Akechi. Oh -- hey, Akira! Let's go to Akihabara this weekend, there's a new video card I wanna get! 」

「 She's going to try to make you get it for her. 」 [ Wakaba offers, dryly, and Futaba puffs her cheeks out in indignation. ]

「 I'm not going to make him buy it! It's a fair cut of the profits from stealing -- huh? 」 [ Futaba blinks, leaning backwards in a full body motion like she's completely off balance, and Akira feels his breath catch in his throat.

There's a second of silence in which nobody moves before Futaba restarts her sentence. ]

「 It's only fair when I help him get good at all his cool retro games! 」

Sure. [ Akira says it so quickly that he's very aware that everyone is looking at him. ]

I mean, I'll go with you this weekend. But I think Akechi has a cold, so he's going to stay here until the trains are less crowded.

[ It's a lie. It's a lie on a lie on a lie and it falls out so smoothly he knows it must feel fake, but everyone seems to accept it, and he reaches down for Akechi's wrist to pull him up the stairs.

He feels like he's drowning. ]

[Akechi doesn't move until Akira takes his wrist and makes him, only blinks when his eyes start to hurt from staring in such abject horror at Wakaba. She doesn't seem to notice, or if she does she doesn't seem to mind, and he watches Morgana and his strangely cat-like behavior, and Futaba chirps something a little too cheerfully, and his ears are ringing, and--]

[--and he's upstairs, and Akira has his wrist, and he pulls himself closer to him by his wrist and curls into him, finally remembering how to breathe.]

What-- what's happening? Akira, why is everything... [Everything is wrong, and he can't figure out how to even verbalize that.]

[ Akira wraps his arms around Akechi, like his display of affection can somehow -- maybe -- chase away the remnants of the uncertainty, drag them both back down. Akira doesn't want to wake up. He doesn't want any of them to wake up, and he doesn't think he's ever hated himself quite so much.

He could handle the fact that no one else seems to need him if it meant that Akechi -- if it meant that Akechi did -- ]

I'm sorry. [ He can hear them talking downstairs -- Futaba chirping like nothing is wrong; Morgana's strangely deep voice contrasting against it. ]

It's okay. We're just -- tired, or something.

[ It's a hollow reassurance and Akira knows it, but he doesn't have Maruki's powers; he can't drag across this world to make it seem real, to erase the doubt. All he has is himself. ]

[He stays pressed to Akira and brings his hands to cover his ears when Wakaba says something, holds his breath until Akira apologizes and he exhales in a rush.] What are you sorry for, you're not responsible for any of this. [About that,]

[He takes his time, trying to slow his breathing and his heart rate both, eventually moving his hands to loop around Akira's waist and aim to shuffle them farther into the attic.] I know I'm tired, so I can't imagine you. Any sleep you got folded up in that booth can't have been restful. [He stays close, looking up at him and shifting his hands to his hair.] ...thank you, I. Needed... I don't know what, but you seem to be adept at translating me.

[ Akira isn't able to reply for a long moment. He just -- sags against Akechi, a little, holding him tight enough that it seems almost like he's afraid to let go. He's already in this all too deep.

If Maruki asked him right now, Akira is afraid he'd say "yes". ]

...can you promise me something? [ He knows it doesn't mean anything. Knows that any promises Akechi makes to him in this reality can't possibly be held up, but -- even so -- ]

That no matter what happens, you'll -- still need me? You'll let me take care of you?

[Akira being so rattled plants Akechi's feet firmly back on the ground and he shifts, finding his elbows.] ...hey,

[The question-- questions, all of them, they throw him.] ...what aren't you telling me?

I can't tell you. [ Akira sounds torn up about it; the words are too harsh to his own ears, and he hates it, hates how raw he sounds. He can't put up the barest pretense of having his shit together when he feels this way.

He doesn't think he's felt this way since the first time he was arrested. ]

You're going to be furious, but I -- I can't --

[He raises his hands, bringing them slowly to Akira's face, framing it by his jaw.]

Okay, [His tone his quiet. Confused, but-- Akira is never this bothered.] I don't know what's going on, but-- okay.

Thank you. [ Akira's grip is too tight when he clenches into Akechi's clothing, but he can't -- stop. Akechi means so much to him. He shouldn't; he tried to murder Akira -- but then he nearly died for him -- he's killed people -- but he clearly wishes he hadn't.

It's a vicious cycle that Akira can't keep up with without exhausting himself, so he just goes a little less tense against Akechi's hold. ]

You'll -- you'll know. It's just going to take a little longer.

[ How long had Akira managed to fool Akechi with faking his death -- two weeks or so? Akira will be surprised if Maruki can do much more than that when Akira can't keep up the act to save his life. ]

[His thumbs draw slow tracks along the ridge of Akira's cheekbones, and he watches his face for a long moment. His eyes trail from his stormy ones to his hair, back to his eyes and down to his lips, where they linger for a long, tense moment before he threads his hands back into his hair and out, looping his arms behind him and using them to pull Akira forward into a hug.]

...I just hope you're okay. [Akechi you're tearing him apart.]

...I'll be okay. [ Akira holds onto the hug -- too tightly. Tighter than he should. This is fake, he knows that; he knows, just as much, that he can't stay, that he can't give in. Maruki's reality isn't a certainty; Akechi is already waking up. Morgana is already showing the signs. Everyone is waking up.

Because of Akira --

Because he's so selfish that he needs them to be wounded and broken or he can't be happy. ]

I -- [ And then, quietly, even though he knows the things he says in this false world might not be real, might not be remembered, might not be trusted -- ]

-- I think I'm in love with you.

[He curls his arms around him a little more securely, pulls his head closer and puts his face in his hair.]

I know. [He doesn't say anything else, just-- just that. He knows. He's known for a while. Fake reality or real, he thinks it's been clear for a long time that Akira isn't just invested in him as another corrupted person to save.]

I'm sorry. [ For loving him, maybe. It's probably the most selfish thing he's ever done. Akechi is certainly the weak spot in Akira's heart -- the only thing that could make him think about this choice. Akira has always tried to help people, always been unable to keep himself out of trouble, but Akechi --

Akechi is different. Akechi nearly died, and Akechi tried to kill him, and Akechi still means so much.

Akira has a lot of regrets about the last two months that are steadily building up in an unforgiving bile of guilt that hangs constantly in his throat.

It's easy to bury his face into Akechi. To block out the outside world. ]

Can we stay like this a little longer? [ It's layered, both literal and metaphorical, because Akira doesn't want to let go. ]

Why on Earth are you sorry, Akira? Good lord. [He moves them toward the bed, slowly, hands securely on Akira's shoulders. He shifts them to his ribs, then his waist and eventually his hips as he takes small steps, carefully pushing him down to sit when they're close enough. His arms fold back up and around him, and he threads one hand into his hair.]

Of course. [He doesn't understand the secondary meaning.]

[ Akira feels like he's suffocating, and he's dealt with other people's anxiety enough to be aware of when he's tipping too far into it, so he just leans into Akechi when they're sitting, focusing on slowing his breathing down.

His eyes sting, so he doesn't open them.

He stays like that for a long moment. When he first came to Tokyo, he felt -- small; insignificant. He was one unjustly prosecuted kid in a sea of people who all had their own worries and problems. It didn't matter if the world wasn't fair when he still had to live in it. Then he'd changed things, however small; he'd made a difference. He'd inspired people. He'd helped people.

He feels the same way he did back then. Small. Useless. Making the wrong decisions -- and not making any decisions -- because he's too paralyzed with the idea of hurting anyone; of getting himself in too deep.

His 'spirit of rebellion' has taken a backseat to worry all over again. ]

I'm -- sorry, you're the one who was upset --

[Akechi folds himself up neatly, curving to duck under where Akira is clearly hiding from him and reach out, framing his face.]

And so are you, clearly. I'm all right now, thanks to your support, now would you let me return the favor?

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