stealhearted | after me comes the flood;

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after me comes the flood;

[ It starts like this: Akira dreaming that he's in his high school, following a butterfly and feeling the strange tell-tale feeling of the metaverse shifting around him despite the fact that the metaverse should be gone. Akira follows along as best he can when it feels like his body is moving through air denser than ice, and he wakes up with a start to the weirdest day he's ever had in his life -- which is saying something.

So, after some consideration, having talked to his friends and seen how happy they are with what Akira can only assume is some sort of fake reality, Akira settles on the one person that probably can't be fooled either. Akira can't be the only one, right? Akechi could use multiple persona, Akechi was like Akira, so --

He texts him. ]

Hey. Has your day been weird at all?

[ Which Akechi will probably respond to with the most acerbic possible text, Akira assumes, because he can't -- he can't imagine anything else. Even though Akira phrased it like Akechi might not remember, just in case. ]

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[Akechi stays still, not watching Akira but listening to his footfalls until he gets to the bathroom. He knows the layout of his condo, knows the sounds each door makes and where they are spatially within the dwelling. Akira isn't as covert as he would like to be in the way he puts his back to the door-- it creaks, just barely, in its frame.]

[When he comes back out, Akechi has packed two neat portions of rice onto two plates and turns slightly in his direction.] ...come help me with this, I don't know how much you want.

[ Akira keeps almost all of the feelings off his face; his neutral look is back, content and curious instead of anything else. He'd perfected the specific look that made him look unthreatening and casual while he was back in his hometown, and it's easy to fall back on it now, even if it hadn't done so well his first few months at Shujin.

The last thing Akira wants to do right now is eat, but he's still a teenage boy, so he knows he can stack it away. ]

I usually just fill the plate a little. [ Akira demonstrates. A healthy appetite, ignoring that he has no appetite. ]

Edited 2021-07-27 22:22 (UTC)

[Akechi watches, calculating, and reaches out to set his fingers against the back of Akira's hand.] What I said before was uncalled for. [He doesn't apologize, not exactly. But this strangely robotic Akira is unsettling.]

[ Akira looks at his hand for a moment and then offers Akechi a smile. It's -- calculated. It isn't exactly fake, but it isn't exactly a happy smile, either. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, because his eyes betray the fact that he's just exhausted. ]

No, you're right. It's not fair of me to keep trying to make you fit into roles you don't want. [ He'd wanted Akechi to want it, was the thing. He'd wanted Akechi to want him enough that they could at least be --

He doesn't let himself think about it. ]

It isn't, [He agrees, recoiling his hand and portioning himself a much smaller amount of curry onto his plate.] But I also don't need to be so caustic about it. If we're going to coexist, it's best I make an effort to be tolerable.

You're always caustic. [ It's mild; it's a little more genuine, this time, when Akira flashes him a smile. Akira'd always wanted to see that side of Akechi, hadn't he? Well. He should have been careful of what he wished for, he supposes. ]

It's not intolerable. Neither of us are at our best right now.

[He flashes Akira a sort of dangerous leer.]

Then why is it that you hid yourself in my bathroom just now, only to come out wearing a mask you haven't worn in months? Clearly, I'm less tolerable than before.

It isn't you. [ Akira says it very mildly; very calmly. He can't rise to the bait again. He can't let himself get sucked in when he feels like he'll drown if he isn't careful. ]

But you said it yourself. You're not in any condition to be trying to worry about me. So you don't have to.

[ It's so easy, for Akira to just discard himself like that. It's too easy. ]

[They are agonizingly similar. Akechi would much rather be the villain than for Akira to discard himself and demonize his own behavior. He scowls, turning back to the curry and moving away from him.]

Do as you will, then. [Stop making him want to save you, you obnoxious little shit.]

[ Akira... does. There's nothing else for him to do but keep going, now; he can't break down and he can't keep trying to make Akechi be the one to be responsible for him, so he just --

Well, the curry's good, at least. It's not his best work, but it's more than edible, and probably the most palatable thing made from scratch that this kitchen has seen since Akechi moved in. ]

The weapon store, the doctor, and the Velvet Room. Is there anything else we need?

[ If he just keeps going, it'll be okay. ]

[Akechi perches on the arm of the couch to eat his plate, slowly. It's good, but it does nothing to fill the hollow feeling he's creating in his stomach. He chews a moment longer than he needs to, lowering his plate to his thigh and turning to look Akira over seriously.]

...your friends. [It's a dull statement.] I can't be what you need right now, Akira. You need someone to help you in a more substantial way.

[ Akira doesn't want to talk about this, but he's ignoring everything else he wants in this situation. What's one more, at this point? ]

...I think they'll wake up. They're not as quick as you, but they've been noticing the problems for awhile, too. It's still worth making an infiltration on our own, I think, if only to force him into a deadline.

[He had the chance to keep Akira in a more open state, to slowly coax him into treating himself like a human being, and he fucking blew it. He slides off the arm of the couch and pulls a roll of cling wrap out of a drawer in the kitchen, covering his plate of food and setting it in the fridge. He pours himself a glass of water, drinks it slowly, and sets it in the sink.] I'll be ready whenever you finish your food.

Edited 2021-07-27 23:42 (UTC)

[ Akira lost his place in trying to help Akechi, didn't he? It's already gone. He watches him put his food in the fridge instead of eating it and feels the words on his tongue -- comfort or insisting that Akechi eat it or --

but that's not his place, and he can't keep forcing Akechi into roles anymore. Akechi can't be someone for Akira to take care of if he doesn't want to be.

Akira feels like he's made entirely out of broken glass. ]

Sure. [ And Akira does. Finish his food, that is. He finishes it and washes the plate and sets it by the sink to dry and does it all almost mechanically. He doesn't really taste it anymore. He isn't doing it because he wants to, and it sits in his stomach, sour and heavy.

But it's food, and he should eat.

He gets up afterwards and grabs his coat, because there's no point in wasting anymore time trying to play house with Akechi. ]

Iwai's in Shibuya, and Takemi's near Leblanc, so I'll probably go in that order for supplies.

Do you still want to stay here?

[He asks it before he can think better of it, tentatively from somewhere between the kitchen and the door when Akira explains his itinerary. It's like-- it's almost like he's hoping Akira will say no, that since he can't have what he wants from it he won't stay. Even if the original reason had been just as much for Akira's benefit as it was for Akechi's. He felt like he'd lost the right to his company, like he'd have to deal with the empty condo again, just because he couldn't admit he hated it.]

[ Akira is quiet for a long moment, because he doesn't know. He wants to. He doesn't deserve to. But the fact that Akechi is asking at all -- it has to count for something. Is Akira just getting his hopes up again? Does he even have hopes anymore? ]

I... do. [ He says, finally, very slowly, like he's not sure he should be saying it at all. ]

I still... I don't want to force you into a role you don't want to do. [ Enemy, or friend, or anything else. ]

But I'm still going to worry about you.

[His stomach churns unpleasantly and he's very glad he only had two bites of the curry, tasty as it was. With little more than bile in his gut, the sour taste on his tongue doesn't make him fear for his flooring as much as he might otherwise. He exhales some of the nausea and leans against the wall with one shoulder, managing an ugly chuckle.] You can't force me into something I don't know how to be in the first place.

[ Akira doesn't quite make eye contact, because he's so terrified of making the wrong move again. Of saying the wrong thing; of making the gap between them even bigger than it already is. ]

Wanting things seems to just get me in trouble. [ With Akechi; with the law; with the entire planet, these days. ] But I can't stop wanting to be around you.

So tell me if I... should leave. [ Akira fists his hand for a moment before he manages to lay it flat again, slack against his leg. ] I think I showed that I'm not the best judge of proactive decisions.

Jesus Christ, Kurusu, you sound like a fucking robot. Can't you at least be frustrated with me? It isn't as if you're asking very much, considering your circumstances.

[He thinks he needs the banter-- needs the tension between them. With Akira relying on him, needing him, needing him to need him in return, it makes Akechi's spine itch, because he's wanted nothing but someone's undivided attention for so much of his life that the fact that it's currently well within his grasp has just made all his mental facilities short-circuit.]

I -- I can't. [ It's one of the things Akira doesn't think he can manage right now, but it snaps him out of his mask long enough to look almost panicked. ]

You don't -- you don't need me trying to push you into things or make decisions for you, so I can't --

[ He wanted to break down and he couldn't. Akechi rejected the idea of it and Akira -- that's fine with Akira, but he can't keep managing to do things both ways. He feels like he's tearing apart. ]

I don't know what you want me to do. [ Akira sounds very small and very, very tired. ]

[He draws in a long, slow breath, and walks across the space between them to reach out and take Akira by his upper arms, squeezing gently.]

I don't want you to push me into things or make decisions for me. You know better than most how much I hate things being done for me. I don't understand why so much of your self-worth and your fucking personality is dependent on making the people around you happy, but I need you to discard that with regard of me. [He looks him in the eye, his expression pulled tight and nearly pleading.] I haven't been able to pursue things that make me happy since I was eight, Akira. At the very least, give me more than a few days after waking up from a fake happiness being shoved down my throat to figure out if I'm willing to chance trying again.

You're the only thing he had to use against me. [ Akira laughs, but it's wet, and he squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't wind up having the eighty-sixth breakdown of the past 48 hours. He can't handle this anymore. ]

I've always -- I want to be someone for everyone to rely on. Whenever I see someone that needs help, I just -- more than anything, I want them to be helped, and there's never anyone else to do it. Even if it gets me into trouble. Especially if it gets me into trouble. [ That's another laugh, but it's a little more hysteric this time and a little less well disguised. ]

I just wanted to -- I just wanted you to be there, because you're the only one that's ever -- there's never been anyone else that wanted to help me, but I thought maybe I was the only one that wanted that, that I was just making your decisions for you and putting you in that role and maybe I am no better than Maruki because I know you're the only thing that ever makes me waver and I still can't stop-- wanting--

[ He should probably be breathing more. ]

[He uses his grip on Akira's upper arms to steer him back to the couch, pushing him to sit on the arm of it so he isn't completely standing. So he won't fall if his knees buckle. He lets him rant, lets him explain himself in anxious half-sentences, listens to probably the most vocalization he's heard out of him in one sitting since they met, and keeps careful eye contact the entire time.]

Akira. [He squeezes his arms gently.] Breathe.

I'm sorry -- I'm sorry, you said you didn't want to be the one taking care of me and I keep -- I can't keep it together around you. [ Akira raises his hands to his eyes again, but it doesn't really do any good; he realizes belatedly that he's already blinking too much to try to keep himself from crying, so he just chokes on a noise that's either a word or an apology or -- something, and then sucks in a shaky breath. ]

I'm sorry, I don't know why I can't -- [ Just fucking bounce back like he has every other time. Just keep going. Just do it. Just handle it. ]

[His whole posture softens, and he steps closer to bracket Akira to the couch with his body, moving his hands from his arms to his face. He takes hold of his head, fingers curling around the base of his skull behind his ears while his thumbs reach up to swipe slow lines across his cheeks, under his eyes.] ...I said I can't take care of you in the way you need. I don't intend to just stand here and watch you drown.

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