stealhearted | after me comes the flood;

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?

...yeah. [ Not really, but -- he's pretty sure he's seen Akechi at his worst. Even if it feels like he's a terrible failure, he can let Akechi do this much to comfort him. He thinks Akechi is the only one he can handle comforting him right now.

Akira wants to live in this moment with this supportive Akechi, this Akechi who cares about him, who is willing to protect him, and he hates himself for that, because he doesn't want to feel like he loves the real Akechi any less. The real Akechi who is going to wake up and be furious --

so Akira should enjoy this while he can, shouldn't he?

He struggles a little to keep eye contact. ]

I'll be fine, there's just a lot happening right now, with -- maybe going home, and my record --

[ Shit, if they didn't change Shido's heart, how the fuck did that all go down? Does he even still have a record? ]

Shh. You're okay, I've got you.

[He holds his face, smoothing the pads of his fingers against his cheeks.] You're talking yourself out of venting stress again, please don't. You're always helping me, no matter what my problem is, please give me the chance to show you I can do the same.

[ Akira looks at Akechi for a long moment, and his eyes glitter with the fact that he is trying so hard not to cry. He inhales, slowly, and then exhales again; closes his eyes and tries to find that part of him that can keep moving forward no matter what. That's always there for everyone. That doesn't -- need -- ]

--Everyone's leaving me behind. [ He blurts, too quickly, not at all the casual confidence he can usually exude. ] I'm -- is that selfish? To want them to -- stay? Everyone is happy, but --

[An alarm goes off in the back of his head-- he'd mentioned going to school a distance away. He was leaving him too, wasn't he? He certainly wasn't helping. His hands skate Akira's skin, light and careful.] It's not selfish, [He offers weakly.] You don't know they're happy, not for sure, but... You're allowed to be upset they're moving on without you.

Aren't you? Happy. [ Akira shouldn't ask. He doesn't want to know, not really, doesn't want to hear Akechi say that he's happy in this false reality, where everything works the way it should and no one needs him and how it makes Akira feel like he's unseated within his skin -- until Akechi was having nightmares, until Akechi wanted his helped, needed his help, let him help in the ways that Akechi never would --

It makes Akira sick to think that Maruki might be twisting Akechi for Akira's own benefit as much as Akechi's own. ]

[The question throws him, and it echoes strangely in his head. The room abruptly becomes too warm and then too cold in a dizzying swell that happens to fast for him to bite back the flinch, and a full-body tremor runs up his spine. Exhaling in a rush, he sits nearly in Akira's lap, slotted to him with his arms finding their way loosely wound around his waist.]

I'm-- stressed, at best, school is a nightmare and you're obviously not doing well. I wouldn't say I'm happy, but I'm certainly not miserable. Not until the actual entrance exams start, certainly.

[ ... it helps, actually, to hear that even here, in this "perfect" world, Akira isn't the only one unhappy. Akechi has everything he could have wanted, and this world still falls short; it takes some tension out of Akira's shoulders, takes some weight off of his back. Emotionally, he's still an absolute mess, guilt and desperation and an overwhelming desire to have things he can't warring inside of him, but...

Maybe it doesn't matter how good things are. Maybe they'll always have to struggle for happiness.

Maybe Akira really can be what makes Akechi -- ]

I'm not very good at... wanting things. [ Akira says it slowly, and it feels almost like it isn't immediately related to the conversation -- but it is. ]

And it feels like when I do, it doesn't -- it only hurts people, or gets me into trouble.

I've noticed, [He says it with a slight smile-- there's deep-rooted concern, there, but he's trying to keep the tone light.] You spend so much time being what you think everyone around you wants you to be, when really we just want you to be you.

[He doesn't mind the shift in topic, figuring Akira is wandering away from what is stressing him out the most. He'll come back to it, Akechi will, but he doesn't want to force him, either.]

I don't know who I am. [ This is not a conversation he should be having with an Akechi who doesn't remember having an entire breakdown in the belly of a cognitive cruise ship -- but he wouldn't have the guts to have it with that Akechi, so this'll have to do. ]

I've just always been whatever people need, but -- no one needs anything from me anymore. [ And then, hesitantly: ] Except you.

[Good thing he'll remember it, then, huh.]

[Some of the life goes out of his eyes for a moment at the first statement-- that Akira doesn't know who he is. It's sort of like the motor behind them stalls out and he spaces out, just like he has a few other times when things have rattled his head just hard enough. It feels, oddly, like something in his head is ramming against the outer walls of his skull, but it isn't quite painful.]

[Or it wasn't, until Akira mentions he needs him, and then there's a sudden battering ram force that slams into the space between his eyes and he flinches, staggering half a step forward into Akira.] ...don't, don't say things like that. Of course we need you, you're our friend. [He puts his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes in hopes that will make the sudden focused migraine abate.]

[ Akira reaches up to thread his fingers into Akechi's hair, to massage gently at his temples. It wasn't painful for Akira to "wake up" because he'd never fallen victim for the dream in the first place, but he imagines it can't be comfortable, either. He's playing with fire, here, and he relents slightly, feeling too sympathetic to want to keep pushing. ]

I think I'm the one that needs all of you. [ But it's soft; it's fond. Akira can say that with a certain power -- that he needs them. It's one of the true things that Yaldabaoth told him that remains real: that he needed friends, that he needed his connections.

If he hadn't met them, he wonders how much more similar to Akechi he would be by now. ]

[He makes an odd sort of garbled sound in the back of his throat, pushing himself away with one arm enough to put the back of his opposite hand to the bridge of his nose. He isn't sure he can open his eyes from the sudden throbbing pain between them, but he unsticks his jaw enough to mumble.] Mutual need, then.

...yeah. [ Akira feels bad that he's the reason Akechi is suffering now. Realistically, Akira is also the reason Akechi is alive, which -- is a mixed bag, all things considered.

Akira wonders, if Akechi had died, then -- ]

Here. Lay down. Neither of us got enough sleep last night.

[He shakes his head immediately, making a quiet sound and pressing his hand into his nose a little harder.] No, it-- I'm dizzy. Just. Stay there, please.

I'd go with you. [ Akira says, almost automatically, like he's reassuring him or just -- like he's trying. Akira nuzzles into Akechi slightly, letting his head rest on Akechi's shoulder. He inhales, slowly.

Akechi seems to have the same hair care routine even without being the Detective Prince. It's a funny detail that Akira doesn't know what to do with. ]

But I'll stay here as long as you need.

Okay, [His voice is small, and for some reason it irritates him. It's not like he's unbothered by weakness or expressing it, but something about it in that moment frustrates him more than it might, otherwise, and he sags at his arm where it's braced against Akira, leaving them in a sort of double-folded pile.] I'm sorry, whatever happened... It seems to be a lot more trouble than I meant.

I don't mind. [ It's soft, and warm, because it's a truth -- in either world. He likes that Akechi needs him. It makes him feel less like he's a selfish nightmare; makes him feel more like he can find his footing.

The last time he was directionless -- he doesn't want to be that angry again. ]

You're never trouble to me.

I probably should be, at least sometimes, [He argues, but it's without heat or malice. It's... actually sort of drab and quiet, really.] ...my head hurts.

You probably should be, but you aren't. [ Akira reaches back up, letting his fingers drift to Akechi's scalp again, to massage at his head gently. ]

I've got some painkillers.

Nnn, I think if I try to swallow anything right now I'll just be sick.

[The massage is nice, though.] Sorry, I'm being a baby. [He's always a baby-- this Goro is just not too proud to admit to it.]

I don't mind. [ Akira doesn't mind. He keeps up the massage, light and careful. ]

If your headache eases off, maybe we can watch something.

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