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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[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.

[ For a long moment, Akira doesn't move. Then he leans forward, dropping his hands from his face so he can wrap them around Akechi and bury his face in Akechi's chest in a smooth action that leaves him with no time to actually open his eyes. He's not even sure where he dropped his glasses, at this point. He isn't sure he needs them right now anyway. ]

I don't know what I need. [ It's a little muffled, being that he's speaking into Akechi's shirt, and his breathing is still a shaky inhale-exhale that leaves his throat went. It's probably not very comfortable for either of them, but Akira can't focus on that right now. ]

I don't know anything, really.

[It's not comfortable, no, but Akechi tolerates it. His arms wind upward and he folds them around Akira's head in a protective cage, resting his cheek against the backs of his fingers.]

I don't have the delicacy to be gentle or kind in these situations. You need to breathe, that much I can tell, but otherwise I am poorly equipped to actually help you through any of this. [A beat, and he sighs.] I didn't mean it to seem like I didn't want to help. It's-- I don't know how.

You help. [ It's still muffled, moreso because it's quiet -- but Akira is starting to topple off the edge of his panic attack, to come back down into some sense of quiet understanding that allows him to have something like normal human thought. His brain still feels foggy, and his stomach churns with the curry he forced himself to eat earlier. ]

Just being around you helps. When you're not angry with me. [ Which... hasn't been that often, lately -- Akechi has been pissed with Akira for one reason or another since Akira saved his life -- but there's been enough times for Akira to want to hold onto them. To hold onto Akechi. ]

Can it be enough that neither of us know what we're doing? [ Can't it be enough that they're both trying? Akira needs something to go right. God, he's going to sleep for a week after they beat up Maruki. ]

Yes, because being angry with you most of our time spent together is clearly helpful to you. [His tone is dry, but since Akira hasn't shifted to move away from where he's burrowed against him, Akechi hasn't moved his arms from around him, either.] I'm angry for a lot of reasons, but most of them aren't directly related to you specifically. You're just an easy target. As a related mention, that is wildly impolite of me, and I mostly kept doing it in some feeble hope that you would actually leave me alone if I was enough of an asshole. It's becoming very clear to me that won't be the case.

Usually, it doesn't bother me. The only thing... Things only upset me if I think I'm going to lose you. When you nearly died -- or the idea of you leaving. [ Akira doesn't mind being a target, because usually, he can just... handle things. It's just that right now he's doing an absolutely terrible job of handling anything, and apparently it's created some sort of horrible snowball where everything is constantly too much and Akira is getting absolutely buried.

Too bad therapy is literally evil. ]

It feels like -- I keep coming so close to losing things. [ He feels like he lost everything on his way into Tokyo, but then he found things so much better that he didn't realize how much he relied on them until suddenly everything was yanked out from underneath him. ]

[Akechi weighs his options for a moment, inhaling and counting to ten, letting Akira fuss. He looks up and stares at the ceiling for a while, exhaling slowly and leaning back on his heels to take Akira by the shoulders.]

[And then he shoves him over backward onto the couch, circling around it to sit beside him and gather him with a bland expression.] Which is why you're literally hyperventilating in my living room. Stop worrying so much, it's going to be fine.

[ Akira goes when Akechi shoves him, looking briefly bewildered before he manages to crack into a slightly watery smile. ]

I don't think I've cried like this since I was a kid. [ It's a little rueful, because he knows that's not exactly healthy. His friends cry, he encourages it and supports them, but him? Crying?

Nah. He just... doesn't do that. Which he thinks might be a good part of the problem. ]

... thank you, though.

[He's detached when he throws his arm over Akira's shoulders and drags him more or less into his lap, threading his fingers into his hair and setting his temple against his fingers.] Prior to recently I hadn't cried since I was about eleven, so I can't really chastise you for that. Don't thank me.

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