stealhearted | after me comes the flood;

[Akechi doesn't move until Akira takes his wrist and makes him, only blinks when his eyes start to hurt from staring in such abject horror at Wakaba. She doesn't seem to notice, or if she does she doesn't seem to mind, and he watches Morgana and his strangely cat-like behavior, and Futaba chirps something a little too cheerfully, and his ears are ringing, and--]

[--and he's upstairs, and Akira has his wrist, and he pulls himself closer to him by his wrist and curls into him, finally remembering how to breathe.]

What-- what's happening? Akira, why is everything... [Everything is wrong, and he can't figure out how to even verbalize that.]

[ Akira wraps his arms around Akechi, like his display of affection can somehow -- maybe -- chase away the remnants of the uncertainty, drag them both back down. Akira doesn't want to wake up. He doesn't want any of them to wake up, and he doesn't think he's ever hated himself quite so much.

He could handle the fact that no one else seems to need him if it meant that Akechi -- if it meant that Akechi did -- ]

I'm sorry. [ He can hear them talking downstairs -- Futaba chirping like nothing is wrong; Morgana's strangely deep voice contrasting against it. ]

It's okay. We're just -- tired, or something.

[ It's a hollow reassurance and Akira knows it, but he doesn't have Maruki's powers; he can't drag across this world to make it seem real, to erase the doubt. All he has is himself. ]

[He stays pressed to Akira and brings his hands to cover his ears when Wakaba says something, holds his breath until Akira apologizes and he exhales in a rush.] What are you sorry for, you're not responsible for any of this. [About that,]

[He takes his time, trying to slow his breathing and his heart rate both, eventually moving his hands to loop around Akira's waist and aim to shuffle them farther into the attic.] I know I'm tired, so I can't imagine you. Any sleep you got folded up in that booth can't have been restful. [He stays close, looking up at him and shifting his hands to his hair.] ...thank you, I. Needed... I don't know what, but you seem to be adept at translating me.

[ Akira isn't able to reply for a long moment. He just -- sags against Akechi, a little, holding him tight enough that it seems almost like he's afraid to let go. He's already in this all too deep.

If Maruki asked him right now, Akira is afraid he'd say "yes". ]

...can you promise me something? [ He knows it doesn't mean anything. Knows that any promises Akechi makes to him in this reality can't possibly be held up, but -- even so -- ]

That no matter what happens, you'll -- still need me? You'll let me take care of you?

[Akira being so rattled plants Akechi's feet firmly back on the ground and he shifts, finding his elbows.] ...hey,

[The question-- questions, all of them, they throw him.] ...what aren't you telling me?

I can't tell you. [ Akira sounds torn up about it; the words are too harsh to his own ears, and he hates it, hates how raw he sounds. He can't put up the barest pretense of having his shit together when he feels this way.

He doesn't think he's felt this way since the first time he was arrested. ]

You're going to be furious, but I -- I can't --

[He raises his hands, bringing them slowly to Akira's face, framing it by his jaw.]

Okay, [His tone his quiet. Confused, but-- Akira is never this bothered.] I don't know what's going on, but-- okay.

Thank you. [ Akira's grip is too tight when he clenches into Akechi's clothing, but he can't -- stop. Akechi means so much to him. He shouldn't; he tried to murder Akira -- but then he nearly died for him -- he's killed people -- but he clearly wishes he hadn't.

It's a vicious cycle that Akira can't keep up with without exhausting himself, so he just goes a little less tense against Akechi's hold. ]

You'll -- you'll know. It's just going to take a little longer.

[ How long had Akira managed to fool Akechi with faking his death -- two weeks or so? Akira will be surprised if Maruki can do much more than that when Akira can't keep up the act to save his life. ]

[His thumbs draw slow tracks along the ridge of Akira's cheekbones, and he watches his face for a long moment. His eyes trail from his stormy ones to his hair, back to his eyes and down to his lips, where they linger for a long, tense moment before he threads his hands back into his hair and out, looping his arms behind him and using them to pull Akira forward into a hug.]

...I just hope you're okay. [Akechi you're tearing him apart.]

...I'll be okay. [ Akira holds onto the hug -- too tightly. Tighter than he should. This is fake, he knows that; he knows, just as much, that he can't stay, that he can't give in. Maruki's reality isn't a certainty; Akechi is already waking up. Morgana is already showing the signs. Everyone is waking up.

Because of Akira --

Because he's so selfish that he needs them to be wounded and broken or he can't be happy. ]

I -- [ And then, quietly, even though he knows the things he says in this false world might not be real, might not be remembered, might not be trusted -- ]

-- I think I'm in love with you.

[He curls his arms around him a little more securely, pulls his head closer and puts his face in his hair.]

I know. [He doesn't say anything else, just-- just that. He knows. He's known for a while. Fake reality or real, he thinks it's been clear for a long time that Akira isn't just invested in him as another corrupted person to save.]

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.]

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