stealhearted | after me comes the flood;

...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.

[He oozes, more than anything else, into a slumped position against Akira's front, about halfway to sliding into his lap.] Yeah. I still need to catch back up on Featherman, Futaba's going to kill me.

She downloads them all onto my laptop for me. [ Remotely, because Akira doesn't actually fully understand how torrenting works or how to use a VPN. He just lets Futaba do what she will, and periodically watches Featherman while studying. ]

C'mon. [ He shifts a little, moving to wiggle over so he can grab the laptop off the desk without fully detaching from Akechi. ]

Don't kill me if I fall asleep, though.

I won't, [He mumbles, wiggling a little until he's on the outside of the bed.] L'mme... stay over here, I don't wanna trip over you if I get up.

Okay. [ Akira sets the laptop up. There's a desktop folder titled WATCH ME NERD that contains all of Featherman, including several seasons that are, at the least, considerably outdated. ]

Which one did you leave off on? [ He settles back against the wall, next to Akechi, letting the laptop rest on both of their legs in between the two of them. ]

Sixteen of season eight, I think, [His eyes are closed, and he's not even really directed at the laptop, but it's fine.]

[ Akira turns it on. He keeps the volume and the screen brightness both low, to help ward off any of the headaches. He wonders if it's the same episode in both realities? He'll have to check, when... if they ever get back to the real reality.

He shifts slightly to wrap an arm around Akechi. He isn't exactly encouraging him to lean against him, but -- no, that's a lie, he totally is. ]

[He mumbles something unintelligible, either about Featherman or maybe about Akira's unsubtle bid for cuddles, but he doesn't deny them, either. He drops sideways into him and buries his face in the side of his neck, his skin too hot and his breathing and heartbeat both erratic for a while until combined effort of Akira and Featherman lull him into a healing state of unconsciousness.]

[And things were okay for a while, after that. Akechi continued to have strange dreams, but he decided to not talk about them. It was a strange impulse, at first, because the second one he woke up from shouting and had to push past his mother's concern to be violently sick, he decided while hunched over the toilet that he would maybe not tell Akira immediately because of how stressed he'd been about the first one. His mother's hand on his back was cold in a really disorienting way, and at the same time he realized her hands shouldn't be cold, a part of his brain clicked into place that told him he could under no circumstances trust Kurusu with the vulnerability of being up at 2am vomiting nerves over a nightmare about killing Okumura Kunikazu.]

[His brain wandered between being alarmed that he was having multiple dreams about killing his friends' parents, being confused that he called Akira by his family name, something he hadn't done in years, and wondering why his mother's hands were always cold from that point onward.]

[Independently, his mother had reached out to Akira. She called Leblanc on the yellow phone on the counter instead of texting him-- she had his ChatID because she was friendly, and Akira was extremely important to her son, but it wasn't something she wanted Goro to be able to come across, even if by accident. So she called, and she spoke to Sojiro for a bit before asking to speak to Akira, and asking if she could trouble him to find a reason to stay over for a few nights. Goro hadn't been sleeping well, and in a drastic response had chosen to not sleep at all a night or two, and she didn't know how to help him. She knew he and Akira were close, and she didn't bother to ask how close, but she knew if anyone could convince Goro to sleep, and potentially soothe him enough to sleep a full night through, it would be Akira.]

[Akechi, of course, was nonethewiser, running at 47.5 hours since he had last slept, trying to ignore the way his hand shook as he picked up his third mug of coffee in as many hours.]

[ Akira knew this was going to come. He knew it was going to happen, so he was prepared for it, in a way: he hears himself make promises to Akechi's mother and calm excuses to Sojiro; he brushes off their concern as he sets out. Things have been steadily breaking, and he's waiting for the moment everything cracks -- he can see it happen, in the way Morgana looks at his hands too long in confusion, in the way Futaba will look at her mother with a stricken expression, in the way Ryuji's leg sometimes gives out for no good reason.

So he was waiting for this. He leaves his bag at home. It feels too light without Morgana inside of it, and there's nothing he needs to bring when Akechi is clearly not in need of any coffee. He does bring a container of curry and rice, but it's more to placate Akechi's mother than anything else.

He doesn't think Akechi will be eating.

He gets to the door and inhales, slowly, glancing at the chat as Futaba says it's weird that Morgana doesn't have a chat ID, right?. He turns his phone off and knocks, offering Akechi's mother a smile and an easy platitude before he steps in to see Akechi. ]

... hey. [ Is all he offers. ]

[He looks... terrible. Truly. His skin is sallow and his eyes are sunken, he hasn't brushed his hair in the better part of a day, and with the way he keeps scrubbing a hand backward through it, it's sticking up in at least four directions at any given angle. He nearly drops his coffee mug at the sound of Akira's voice, dropping his pen in favor of setting it down not too hard, and there's a brief, almost glitch-like flash of viciousness in his expression when he looks up.]

K-- [He flinches, exhaling and looking at his mug, then his mess of papers all over the table, and when he looks back up he looks even more tired, somehow.] Akira?

[His mother steps briefly into view behind Akira, and Goro's eyes shift to her-- the guilt in her expression undoes any covertness she managed up until that point with asking Akira over. His stomach drops.] ...oh.

Hey. I brought you dinner. [ Akira hears the way Akechi falters when he addresses him; sees that flash of viciousness in his eyes for a brief moment, and there's something almost -- comforting, about it? Akira's smile is a little tight, because it's bittersweet; it's like looking straight at an oncoming train without trying to move out of the way when you're planted on the tracks. ]

Do you want to talk? [ Akira knows the answer is "no", but he doubts this Akechi is going to turn him away. This Akechi, who is just refusing to sleep rather than dealing with the negative turmoil of emotions.

Akira wonders if Akechi went through all of this the first time he killed someone. If he dealt with it alone, while keeping up his image, without letting anyone know.

It makes Akira's stomach turn to think he's making Akechi relive it. ]

[He remembers telling his mother, while she rubbed his back even after he was done being sick, that he didn't want to tell Akira. That he worried, last time, that he was so upset, that he'd tell him later, but not yet. That she'd gone and told him at least enough to make him come over, and talk so gently to him felt like a betrayal, but his eyes just got hot and he looked away from them both. He shuffled his papers, carefully stacked them and slipped them back into a folder, shaking his head but getting up anyway.]

[He leaves his coffee on the table, gesturing down the hall for Akira to go ahead and go into his room. As he turns to follow him, a deep-set ache settles into his bones when he fixes his mother with a look that belies how betrayed he feels. The memories and voices buried deep in his heart and the back of his mind scream at him for it, but he can't help it. The slivers of the real Akechi Goro splintering their way in fractions up through his skin howl in dismay, knowing it would be the last time he looked at her, but the Akechi Goro of Maruki's twisted reality has no understanding of why he feels so ill about it, and closes his bedroom door behind him.]

[He's not entirely aware of the tears that make his vision distort as he stares at his feet, leaning against the door. His voice is a shattered whisper.] Why are you here?

[ Akira doesn't reply for a long moment. He looks at the bedroom -- it shifts under his gaze, like a safe room, giving a glimpse into that unlived in bedroom that Akechi actually lived in. Instead of this -- this room with books, with a blanket that must have been purchased from his mother, with a very modest collection of Featherman merchandise relegated to a single shelf so as to not be too embarrassing, with trinkets and gifts and books and things that make it look like someone exists. Like someone was happy here. ]

... you should tell her you love her. Don't let her think you're mad at her for caring about you.

[He does not, in fact, tell his mother he loves her.]

[His jaw slides closed with an audible click, and he clenches it a moment, snapping his head up and directing his-- anger? Confusion? He doesn't know what he's feeling right now, really, except that he's rubbed raw like an open wound.] Why, am I going to dream about killing her, next? Akira, you know what's going on, or you wouldn't be here. Just tell me.

Please. [ Akira's voice cracks on it, because it's a plea -- he feels like it's the one thing he might be able to do right, the one thing he might be able to do right in this entire mess. He's never been able to do anything meaningful for Akechi. All he's done is cause him more and more pain. ]

If I tell you, it's going to be too late, so --

[ It's already too late, Akira thinks. He waited too long. ]

Is-- is that why I'm scared of you? You keep... making it sound like something's going to happen.

[He looks down at his feet again, then brings his hands forward, looking at them and then back up at Akira.] And it... involves you? And my mom? [Between Akira's pleading and the strange horrified snarling that's getting harder and harder to ignore in his own head, he reaches one hand back toward the door handle, but doesn't turn it.]

You're -- scared? [ Akira looks -- sick at the thought, and he can't make eye contact. His hand squeezes together into a fist before he manages to make it relax, because this isn't how any of this should be going. He looks up at the ceiling of Akechi's bedroom. It's very clean. ]

That's fine. It's fine, so -- before it's too late, tell her -- [ Akira can feel the pressure building as Akechi starts to connect the pieces, and Akira has never before wished that Akechi wasn't as smart as he is. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject