stealhearted | after me comes the flood;

...I'm actually kind of looking forward to this. I've never worked with you when all your limiters are off. [ Akira sounds a little -- curious, almost? Akechi had helped with Shido; with Yaldabaoth; but the Akechi that he showed then -- quietly furious and deeply controlled in his tension -- is different than the Akechi he thinks he'll see now. This Akechi is tired; this Akechi is furious and doesn't need to pull back from that in front of Akira. ]

[His expression pinches, and he regards Akira critically. He has the least reason to keep himself in check around him, the least reason to fear his reaction to the sheer incandescence of Loki's influence, of letting his anger push him forward. But at this point, he's too tired to rein himself in. He doesn't care what anyone thinks of him anymore. He wants to be done with it all, and he wants to hide away from the perception of anyone when it's over.]

[He takes another long sip of his coffee.] I won't bother trying to understand why you want to see me at my most exhausted and unwilling to check my behavior for anyone else's benefit, but I'll tell you now to not expect any apologies if I offend you.

I like seeing you when you're genuine. [ Akira doesn't tell Akechi that Akechi being 'genuine' also includes a certain amount of detective prince behaviors, because he knows Akechi won't believe him, but it's quantifiably true. Akechi is absolutely a mix of the personas he tried to wield in public.

Akira likes both options, which is almost upsetting with how far he's fallen. ]

I always wanted to see more of the you that you kept hidden. ...Sorry, that's a little weird, isn't it? [ Akira shakes his head a little, then goes back, tapping out a quick list of what he'd seen when he'd briefly infiltrated. ]

The shadows I fought myself -- I mostly tried to avoid them -- had a few weaknesses, so if we stock up on some items to help cover any gaps...

[Akechi's eyebrows raise, but he keeps his eyes fixed on his coffee, setting it down to self-consciously adjust his gloves.] I feel like sometimes you really don't think very hard before you say things. [He's starting to wonder if that's mostly a side effect of dealing with him, specifically.]

[Tracing the outer edge of the lid of his coffee, he hums, nodding.] I've never had much choice on what items or what quantity of them I'm able to carry, it's a matter of what I find. [He lacks a source like Takemi, is what he's saying.]

I'm winging it more often than you'd think. [ Akira sometimes chooses to stay quiet, and he thinks a little about reacting to, like, teachers, but Akechi? Nah. He usually goes with his instinct. ]

I'll have to make a couple stops, but I can get us stocked up. Even if the Phantom Thieves didn't "exist" in this reality, it seems like all the money I collected still does. [ Which is to say that Akira is... well-off, in terms of finances. ]

It'll be worth it to cover our weaknesses.

I was aiming to be somewhat charitable. [Meaning he is well aware you frequently don't think. He shifts the sleeve on his coffee cup, nodding.]

And I imagine you want me to accompany you on these stops.

You don't have to, if there's something you need to be doing. I just thought it's better than being alone. [ Akira traces the rim of his coffee cup, almost absentmindedly; he can handle seeing Iwai, Takemi, and so on -- their perfect worlds aren't that different from reality -- but he doesn't like to think about Akechi sitting at home in that apartment. ]

[He doesn't look up. He understands what Akira is getting at, and... Can't decide what he thinks about it, really. For so long he's wanted someone to care, and here Akira is, caring freely. Wanting nothing but his company in exchange.]

[His stomach turns, and he brings a hand to lay the backs of his fingers against his lips, closing his eyes. At this point he thinks he'd like to be sick, but then Akira would just fret. He gathers himself, swallows, and draws in a careful breath, moving his hands.] I don't need a babysitter.

It's not babysitting. I'm not -- it's just... [ Akira looks away, and his hand goes back up to his hair, without thinking about it; his posture is a little hunched over, like he's trying to make himself a little bit smaller without going full meltdown about it. ]

...I was alone, in Leblanc. For awhile. So I just -- I think about you being alone in your condo, with the rest of the world moving on without you because they're all happy, and I don't want that. Even if it's only me, I don't want to move on without you.

I'm used to being unwanted, Kurusu, if you haven't forgotten. It isn't an unwelcome reminder to me that the world turns without paying me any mind. [He's-- frustrated. Akira is frustrating. He wants to care for him and pay attention to him and he doesn't want to "move on without him", but he's not taking into consideration that he may want to be forgotten. All he wanted for years was to be seen, for someone to recognize what he did, and now the idea is soured in his heart and his mind because he had it, he had the attention of all of Japan and some of the whole world, but it was all a lie. It was fake, and he was setting himself up.]

[So he thinks he's allotted some time to be forgotten. Or maybe he'd just like to forget himself.]

[ 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.

And if I said I did?

[Akira is right to fear he'll spit back at him for his honesty. His honesty terrifies him, it makes no sense to him. There has to be a catch, there has to be something for him to be getting out of this. And in anticipation of that unknown, he's terrified of allowing Akira any closer to what he wants. If he wants Akechi, his time and his attention, when he gets it, he'll want whatever it is he expects from him for it. Nothing in the world came free, came without consequence.]

[Akira's honesty makes his spine itch.]

...I know that. [ Akira sounds both biting and tired, which is kind of impressive, all things considered. ]

You don't want to be in this world, or you think you don't deserve to be in the world, or to be happy. I know that. I know you didn't want me to save you back on the ship. [ Akira sighs. He was doing pretty good about pretending he was fine, but Akechi is finding all his weak points to rip off whatever armor Akira managed to scrounge up. He just feels tired again. He can't be proactive about anything when everything is so exhausted. ]

I know you don't want me to love you. I know you think I'd be better off with someone else, or that I'll snap out of it. That maybe if you died I'd wise up and move on. But I don't think I would.

[ He's so tired. ] I can't let you go.

[He grits his teeth and seethes for a long handful of seconds, eyes closed and coffee cup buckling slightly in one hand. He releases it, bringing that hand back to claw backward into his hair and pull on it at the base of his neck, draws in a breath, exhales.]

[Something in the resigned way Akira insists makes him boil over, and he pushes back from the table, standing.]

[Except he stops. He could storm off, he wants to, or he thinks he wants to. But he just stands there, hands curled into fists at his sides, and looks between Akira and the floor a few times. At first he's livid, his expression all harsh angles and furrowed eyebrows, his lips pulled away from his teeth in a snarl and his shoulders drawn up. An attempt at looking larger, to seem threatening. But the first time he throws his gaze to his feet without spitting something-- anything at him, he gets tangled, words dying in his throat and his posture changes.]

[It's realizing that he wants to be angry at Akira, that it's easiest to blame this all on him, to realizing that he can't accept it because he isn't worth it, that Akira hit the nail right on the head about him, and somehow still fucking wants him that draws him in on himself. His arms come up around his ribs and he just shakes his head, and when he looks back up at Akira again he still looks angry, but in a similarly exhausted way to Akira's own state.] You'll have to learn.

Edited 2021-07-19 18:22 (UTC)

[ Akira doesn't flinch against the words, just closes his eyes and breathes, very carefully. He keeps his eyes closed longer than he might, normally, because he's afraid if he opens them and sees that defeated, enraged look on Akechi's face he's just going to cry again, and they're having this entire argument in public.

He finally opens his eyes again; he neglects to make eye contact in favor of running his hand through his hair. They haven't drawn attention -- is that part of the perfect world? It tastes bitter in Akira's mouth. ]

...So I'll go do my errands, and we'll infiltrate this afternoon. [ Akira stands up, pushing his chair back in as he steps away, coffee in hand. He considers it for a moment, and then chugs the rest without really tasting it. It can't taste worse than the emotion he's currently feeling.

It burns a little on the way down. It's kind of nice. ]

I'll let you know if anyone else wakes up.

[Don't leave me, he wants to say. He tastes the words on his tongue like bile. He hates how badly he wants to follow, how badly he wants to allow himself this simple, stupid thing. Akira benefits from it just by receiving it, doesn't he? Can't that be enough? Just his attention, just his companionship. It's never that easy, he's never enough, never has been and never will be, and surely not as simply as just this. So he fights back, because he can't not fight back.]

When are you going to wake up, Kurusu?! For fuck's sake, this isn't-- [He just yells, wordlessly, keeping his voice as controlled as he can manage and folding forward just enough to grip at the sides of his head without having to raise his arms very far.]

[ 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. ]

[He makes a strangled little sound at Akira's hand on him, standing straighter and smearing his hands inward to cover his face, breathing into his palms for a moment. He exhales in a rush and smooths his hands back through his hair again, pushing his fringe off of his face and letting it fall back where it will in complete disarray. He reaches out blindly, holding his breath and hooking his arm through Akira's to drag them out of the cafe. It was a bad idea-- of course it was, he'd suggested it.]

[He forgets to stop walking once they're on the street, on autopilot until they get to the corner and the sharp sound of an adjacent crosswalk light turning green pops the mental bubble he'd fashioned around them to get out of the cafe. He twists, reaching back and taking a more secure hold of Akira's arm, finding his wrist, finding his hand. He doesn't quite grasp his hand so much as he takes hold of the fleshy part where his thumb connects to his palm, pulls it up near his throat.]

[He doesn't find anything worth saying.]

[ Akira stays silent. He talks more with Akechi than he does with most people, but he feels like it's only serving to get him into more trouble, lately -- and he doesn't want that. He doesn't want to keep putting more and more distance between the two of them, doesn't want to keep feeling this cold on the inside.

It's strange, he thinks, that he used to feel this way all the time -- aimless, cold, with only a list of things in his head to do to keep him human, back in his hometown -- but now it feels so wrong. He got too used to having people; having the bright effervescence of the rest of the Phantom Thieves, of Morgana at all hours, of everyone being a text away.

It feels terrible to lose it now that he's felt it. He wonders how much of that applies to Akechi.

But it's something to do -- an item on the mental list, something that keeps him moving forward. So long as he has something, he can keep himself upright, so he helps steer them back to the condo, goes without protest when Akechi moves his arm, his wrist, his hand. It's a neon flashing light in his mind saying get to safety, and he doesn't know what comes after that, but he'll figure out something.

He always does. ]

[Akechi never really had friends. Maybe a few, when he was young, but even then he was always Too Smart, and many of his peers picked on him when he chose to read instead of run around and play on the playground. That was evidenced, in some respects, in his shrieking meltdown in the engine room, in the way he howled about keeping their friendships to themselves. So he didn't quite know where Akira was, mentally, having lost the first taste of good friendships he'd ever had, but it was a similar concept of desperately wanting what he'd once had that had driven him forward for so long.]

[He's immediately subdued when Akira takes over pulling them to his condo, taking slow, measured breaths and swallowing down the violent overflow of emotion he nearly displayed in the cafe. As they climb the stairs he digs into his pocket for his key, unconsciously shifting his hand into Akira's as he pulls on his arm to stop his advance.]

[ Akira stops, obediently. He waits until they're inside, until the door is closed, and then -- taking in a deep breath -- he whirls around to face Akechi, twining their hands together a little further. ]

I don't know what this is. [ His voice is suspiciously even. He's keeping it even, because he can't break down into hysteria. Only one of them can have a breakdown at any given time and right now it's Akechi, so he gives into that so that he can survive, so that he can keep his head above water. ]

Do you want me? [ It's not shy or reserved, this time: it's a question, a bold block of text between them, because Akira can't keep beating around the bush. ]

I'm not asking if you deserve me, or if you're ready, or if you can see a future that includes me. I just need to know if -- even if nothing else in that world was real, if that much was.

[ If it wasn't, he'll figure it out. He'll remove himself as much as he can, cut the emotions out the same way he excised panic and regret after his arrest. He'll move on, eventually. He could probably be happy with someone, even if he tries to imagine it and the person in his mind has golden hair and a vitriolic wit.

But that's only if Akechi is pushing him away because he genuinely doesn't want him, and not out of some misguided attempt at guilt or redemption. ]

[He can't breathe.]

[He sucks in a sharp breath when Akira whirls on him, and the barrage of honesty, statement, question, statements to elaborate on the question, makes him hold the breath there in his lungs. Traps it there, like he feels in the genkan of the condo he's lived in for the vague approximation of two years, his shoes still on, and Akira Kurusu asking the simplest and most difficult question of him he's ever been asked in his life.]

[There's a brief moment where he wonders if throwing up on their shoes would get him out of answering it.]

I don't-- know, I don't know. [Now that he's breathing again, he's gasping, and sagging toward the ground. Sit the baby down before he falls on his ass.]

Edited 2021-07-19 20:13 (UTC)

Okay. Okay. [ It's not a no, which -- doesn't mean yes, exactly, but Akira is fairly certain Akechi wants it to be a yes. He can't prove it, but it's enough; he couldn't stomach the idea that Akechi's affection towards him began and ended in a false reality.

Akira thinks he's been in love for months. He reaches out, letting his other hand go to Akechi's elbow again. It's a steadying gesture, and Akira almost automatically toes his shoes off even as he moves to sit them both down on the rise of the genkan. ]

It's okay. That's enough for me. [ Akira's voice is placating and fond, and just a little relieved. He'd find a reason to keep moving forward, if Akechi had told him no, but he - didn't want to. ]

I'll stay with you until you figure it out or you make me leave.

Stop-- God, stop, please stop.

[He sits as he's guided, but coils away as soon as he's low enough to the ground that he can't hurt himself if he falls. He tangles their fingers, stares at their joined hands, cups them with his free one.] I know you're just-- going to repeat yourself, but I can't. You don't-- you're wrong, it's wrong, I can't. [Yeah, okay, he's. He's not okay.] Stop making this so hard.

I can't. I don't want to. [ Akira reaches out, combs Akechi's bangs back so he can see his face even as Akechi tries to hide himself away. Akira moves forward, in Akechi's space, easy and confident even if he still feels like he'll falter if he's not careful. He feels like he'll break if he's not careful. ]

I needed -- something to work towards. I'd rather it be convincing you that you're worth loving. I'll save the world, I'll save everyone, I'll be their leader, but --

Let me be selfish about this. [ Akira reaches out to pull Akechi towards him. It's not exactly the world's most comfortable hug, given that they're both awkwardly crouched in the genkan, but -- ]

Let me need you.

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