stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[When your entire life structure was built around always having a plan, suddenly being made entirely incapable of having one was not something easily overcome. He had never been good with spontaneity, not to say he wasn't a quick-thinker. But there was no amount of quick-thinking that could sort him out with this one.]

[It was early March when he found himself wandering through the doorway of Leblanc. He didn't have an exact concept of time, or the date, despite wearing a watch which told him both, but he chose the same seat at the bar he'd always sat at without thinking, and was presented with a cup of coffee before he'd had a chance to stop marveling that he was sitting there at all and order one. Sojiro Sakura wasn't someone he ever expected to trust in any way, but the man brewed the cup and set it in front of him, only to return to his paper without a word, so he figured there was at least something to be said for that.]

[The bell on the door only chimed twice-- once for an elderly couple of regulars, and then again for the very Phantom that had drawn him here, and both times Akechi's cup rattled in its saucer with how he jolted in place. He knew Akira's silhouette from the corner of his eye well enough that he didn't have to turn when he came in, so instead he just took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in his stool.]

Welcome home, [He said, and his voice sounded like a years-old cellphone voicemail recording, being played back like evidence. That made sense, he figured. He just hadn't figured out which crime he was being tried for.]

[ Akira wasn't grieving, because grieving meant admitting that Akechi was gone, which was something he stubbornly refused to do. Given Akechi's penchant for managing to fuck things up at the last minute, and the sheer, unfathomable luck that seemed to follow Akira when he needed it the most, Akira was willing to believe that Akechi wasn't dead or vanished forever into the realm of easily forgotten cognition.

Which makes it easier, probably, when he's confronted with a very real, very alive Akechi sitting at the counter like nothing is wrong. Akira glances towards Sojiro just long enough to make sure he isn't hallucinating, but Sojiro has that pinched expression on his face that means he's about two full sentences from having a migraine brought on by 'you damn kids'.

So Akira doesn't miss a beat, really. His heart does, a painful sort of relief that sends an off-measure thud-thud-thud through his chest, but it's an echo of what he's felt before, so it's easy to displace. ]

...Hi, honey. I'm home. [ The regulars laugh quietly to themselves, and Sojiro raises his hand to rub at the bridge of his nose, and so Akira offers Akechi a bland look that borders on pleasantry. He doesn't bother to try and mask whatever is in his eyes. ]

Let's go upstairs and I'll tell you about my day.

Mmn, [He concedes easily enough, and he can't decide if it's like him or not (he's not sure he knows which form of "like him" to mimic, anymore), hefting his cup for a moment.] Let me finish this before it cools.

[And he does, but he takes his time. It's the only measure of control he has over this at all, because he doesn't even feel like he had control over arriving. Only when the cup is empty, a pale ring of dark at the deepest point of the small cup, does he set it down and shift, sliding carefully off the stool. He goes for a briefcase he doesn't have, passes the startled halt off as bending to dust a scuff from his shoe, and inclines his head toward Akira.]

[He's very specifically studying the space between his eyes, the bridge of his glasses, to avoid deciphering the expression in his eyes.]

[ Akechi doesn't make things easy or convenient, of course, which is his nature -- but it's in Akira's nature to simply roll with what he's given, and very little Akechi does manages to get under his skin in any meaningful capacity. So Akira just drops to sit down next to him.

Akira doesn't bother to get himself a cup of coffee, and Sojiro doesn't offer. He isn't intending to be there long enough to savor it. Akira debates the merits of pointing out that Akechi's coffee was probably less than warm before Akira even walked in, but it isn't the time for that.

Akira waits until Akechi is finished to stand next to him. He offers a smile when he catches the searching expression, and reaches up, tugs his glasses off. He doesn't need the mask they provide anymore, and he certainly doesn't need it with Akechi. ]

Don't worry. There's more where that came from. [ Akira says, and glances at the coffee cup that Sojiro hasn't bothered to move yet. He inclines his head to the stairs, and then goes, taking the steps two at a time. He assumes Akechi will follow him.

Akechi doesn't have anywhere else to go. ]

[It was really more about putting off following him and being alone with him, and Akechi was well aware that Akira probably knew that. At least he didn't put up a fuss. The removal of his glasses catches Goro off-guard and puts tension into his shoulders, subtly, because it didn't look like much but the former detective knew better. A display like that from Akira Kurusu held deeper meaning than just removing the oversized lenses he didn't even need-- it was a gesture of good faith. Of trust, even, wordlessly claiming he didn't need a mask around him like he chose to want around others.]

[It soured his stomach just enough that he stood very still until Akira was to the stairs before he followed him, moving carefully and taking the stairs at a much less childish single-step pace.]

[He never quite knew what to think of the attic of Leblanc where Akira lived. It was quaint in its own way, dusty but remarkably homely, much like the boy himself. It bothered him, to some degree, that it wasn't a space they removed their shoes, but he supposed at the end of the day it was still in some way a public establishment. He stood stiffly at the top of the stairs and surveyed the area, taking definite note of the way the houseplant against the right wall always looked fresh and alive despite its surroundings. The room was unchanged, mostly, since the last time Akechi had seen it, and he couldn't quite decipher if that was a good thing or a bad thing.]

My apologies for ambushing you before classes are out for the year. [Keeping it clinical kept a safe distance between them. He knew better-- Akira knew he had nowhere else to go, let alone anywhere safe, so it wasn't like there was much point to putting up the barrier of politeness, of only "stopping by" for some inane reason. But Akechi Goro was a cornered animal when he was afraid, so he chose to display some manner of togetherness to try and hide that very concept.]

[ Akira is much more comfortable when he's out of his element. He isn't the sort of person to worry about what to do with his hands or how to react to the unexpected -- he takes it all in stride, especially after the past year. Whatever he does is carefully aimed to be true to himself, since that seems to be the key to everything. So he can see the stiffness in Akechi's posture, the tension held in his shoulders, the calculated way Akechi speaks like it's just a visit without any deeper meaning, and he accepts it easily. He stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at ease, but pleased: he's pleased to see Akechi alive and -- for some definition of the word -- well. ]

Better late than never. [ Which is to say that Akira would have preferred Akechi to never have been missing at all, but he'll take it. Better now than when Akira was already home, miles and miles away. ]

Are you sticking around? [ Temporarily; permanently. Akira can tell this isn't a dream or an illusion, but that means that Akechi has the ability to flee at the slightest provocation, a still-feral cat unused to any kindness.

He wants Akechi to stay, which means that it's 50/50 on if Akechi does it or doesn't out of spite. ]

[It's a dangerous question, and he focuses on the houseplant to avoid making any form of eye contact. Despite that, his stress is still evident in the way he rolls the pad of his thumb against his middle finger, stressing the leather of his glove just enough that it resisted the motion. He smiles anyway.]

I haven't decided, [He doesn't know--] So I would suggest you being your least grating if you want a positive result.

[He strides to the plant, not actually interested but pretending to be.] I never assumed you one for a green thumb.

It's Haru's influence. [ Which isn't entirely true -- Akira had managed to keep the plant alive before they'd met -- but she certainly helped, given her ability to make just about anything grow. ]

She'll be relieved you're okay. [ Everyone will, actually, but Akira doesn't say that. He doubts Akechi will believe it, given what Akechi has done to Haru; done to all of them. Akira knows how deep forgiveness goes, and he knows how deep denial runs, and he knows that getting to the bottom of either of them is a struggle.

It's fine. He's grown pretty patient, these days. ]

[His jaw clenches at the mention of Okumura Haru, and he raises his eyes without moving his head. It results in him looking equal parts angrier and more tired than he is.]

And? She's a fool to feel relief for the state of her father's murderer. [In the time he's spent separated from the only group of people he could have ever entertained calling "friends", he's started to realize that the anger is defensive. He's not always truly angry, he just lashes out because it's easier than facing whatever it is that he's been presented with. It's cowardly, and he knows that, but he'd rather be a coward than be open with people who should, in all regards, hate him for everything he is.]

[He thinks maybe, the anger is also to cover the fear of the notion that deep down, he knows they don't.]

You think so? [ Akira sounds interested by the notion, like it's something he hasn't considered. He has, but in the interest of fairness, he always makes an exercise of seeing it from Akechi's point of view. There's merit in expanding one's horizons, after all, even if it means that sometimes his internal monologue takes on a decidedly Akechi tone of voice. ]

Isn't it still a benefit for you? [ It's a gentle jab, very careful. The Phantom Thieves are assets as much as they're friends, and Akira thinks that coaching it that way makes it a little more palatable for Akechi.

Akira doesn't think Akechi sees them as tools anymore, even if he might wish that he did, but he also doubts Akechi is willing to admit that to himself. ]

Don't speak like you know me. [He clicks his tongue against his teeth, turning his head to the side in a way that almost looks like he spat the words onto the wood floors. He's only so defensive because Akira is right, but if he doesn't keep up some kind of appearances now, he may never know them again, so he injects the venom into his words like a lifeline.]

[A steadying breath, and he stands a little straighter, adamantly refusing to meet Akira's gaze. If he only came here to spit venom, why did he bother coming here? He can't answer the question, himself, and it sours his stomach all over again, so he flicks his hand outward in a dismissive gesture.] Anyway, what are your plans moving forward? Your time in the Phantom Thieves is over, so I have to admit curiosity about your next move.

Oh. Sorry. [ Akira does know Akechi, and he knows that apologizing isn't what Akechi wants, which is partially why Akira does it. He likes to get under Akechi's skin, just a little; he wants to strip him down until he can't keep lying about everything. He wants to see what remains after all of that.

But it's a delicate balance, doing it without inspiring Akechi to actually leave, to go somewhere Akira can't find him. ]

I'm supposed to go back to my parents. [ He doesn't say "home", because he's fairly certain that home is Leblanc, these days. He'd been intending to go home, but...

But. ]

[He does know him, which ultimately is most of why Akechi insists he doesn't. If he fights the notion hard enough, surely it would cease to be true. If he knew Akira's aim was to strip him away to nothing, until he couldn't lie anymore, he'd probably laugh. Even Akira Kurusu wouldn't be able to tolerate him without his fabricated spine, he was sure of it. If you took away all his lies and his put-upon confidence, tugged the loose string of his sweater until he unraveled, he would be a deplorably pitiful thing. Rotten at his core and disgusted with himself as much as he was with the world around him, so much he was sure even this strange, curious saint of a boy who claimed himself his rival would discard him.]

[The constant push and pull of how much that terrified him and how desperately he wanted it was frightening in and of itself.]

[His expression sours at the mention of Akira's parents, and he has to bite his tongue to not speak callously. He had no right to infringe upon Akira's wishes-- after all, his own wish had been demanding the boy allow him to return to the one choice he'd been able to make consciously in his life. Somehow, he didn't figure Akira's decision to return to his parents was one built on control like Akechi's had been.]

After living in the city a year, readjusting will be challenging. [He doesn't let the hint of disappointment color his words. Or so he hopes.]

What about you? [ Akira is pretty sure he'll adjust as easily as anything else. It's just a matter of the fact that his bonds back home seem so superfluous compared to the bonds he's made here. He can't see himself staying anywhere else for very long. He'd rather come back eventually, even if it isn't to stay in the Leblanc attic. ]

What are you planning to do now? [ It's an invasive question that he knows Akechi is going to dodge, but at the same time, it has to be asked. There isn't much left for Akechi, and they both know it. ]

[He makes an ugly sound, immediately in regard of the question, waving his hand through the air like he's trying to dismiss it entirely.]

I have literally no obligation to tell you that. [He doesn't know, Akira. He has no idea, for the first time in his life, he has no plan, and it terrifies him.] Particularly not with you skipping town. [He may have hissed that a touch more than was strictly necessary.]

You didn't have an obligation to tell me you were okay. [ Akira points it out, mildly. The fact that Akechi is here at Leblanc at all means that there's something he wants -- needs -- and Akira is happy to give it to him. If he can get Akechi to stay, then all the better, but he's not counting on that. Akechi would, quite literally, rather choose death. ]

I'm meant to go back home, unless... [ Akira trails off for a moment, leaning back against his shelves. They're still full of the knickknacks he's gathered over the course of his stay; gifts from outings with everyone, proof of the bonds he'd solidified.

There's nothing from Akechi, of course. ]

...there's a good reason to stay.

[You told him you kept the glove, Akira. He may have not given it to you, it may have not exactly been a gift, but nothing really is, coming from Akechi.]

[He makes a very strange sound, then-- You didn't have an obligation to tell me you were okay. It catches him off-guard, and his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline, his jaw dropping about a centimetre as tries to make a derisive little snort while the rest of him is too stunned that Akira was bold enough to say that to his face. It results in what is best described as a squawk, brief and quiet, his figurative feathers ruffled and puffed to at least three times their usual size by the sheer offense he's been dealt.]

[For starters, he had to wonder what about his coming to Leblanc gave Akira any sort of idea that he was okay. Let alone that it was to tell him as much. He stretches his fingers toward the floor, closes his eyes, fills his lungs, and curls his hands into fists so tight his arms shake, just barely. Blunt fingernails leave little half-moon indentations in his palms while he holds the breath, and then releases it, letting his fingers stretch back toward the floor. This happens twice before he opens his eyes, raising his head and smiling. It isn't an honest smile, but it isn't the ugly, cruel little quirk of his lips he was more prone to recently.]

Then I'd say you haven't a reason at all, let alone a good one. [More than anything, more than Akira and his stupid accommodating kindness and his cozy little cafe loft and more than the entire Phantom Thieves, collectively, Akechi loathes that he can't hide the shake to his voice.]

[His hands curl back into fists and he pivots, before anything else has the chance to betray him, and makes a stiff bid for the stairs.] If you'll excuse me, I hadn't planned to be here so long. [Or at all.] Do have a good trip home, I'm sure--

[Six steps from the top, and two down the flight into Leblanc itself, he walks directly into nothing at all, another squawk of sound leaving him as his foot drops to the next step and the rest of him collides with what certainly feels like at least six inches worth of one-way mirrors from interrogation rooms long behind him. He reels back, overbalancing, and winds up dropping directly onto his ass on the landing separating the two short staircases leading from Leblanc to the storage space above it that Akira occupied.]

What fucking nonsense is--?! [There's nothing there, but he absolutely just walked into something. The staircase shook, he veritably ricocheted off of it, and now he's sitting on his ass in the stairwell of a cafe he never planned to be in again in the first place, staring in impotent rage at absolutely nothing and trying to figure out when, exactly, Akira Kurusu managed to trip him up enough to place a literal invisible barrier wall in his goddamn staircase, just so he couldn't leave.]

[ Too far, Akira thinks to himself, almost absently. He pushed too far, with predictably explosive results. If Akira underreacts, then Akechi overreacts; there's a certain balance between the two of them, but it's a delicate thing to manage. Akira anticipated that Akechi would react like this -- it didn't matter if he left when he has nowhere to go; so long as he's alive then there's more chances that will present themselves -- but Akira is caught somewhat off guard when Akechi... fails to leave.

Akira peers down the stairs. He's sure that Akechi would prefer he not witness his graceless fall onto his ass, but there's no such luck: just like he pries with his words, Akira will blink down at Akechi, curious and slightly bewildered.

He steps over, hands still in his pockets. ]

Are you okay? [ The obvious answer is "no", in all sorts of ways, but Akira means it in a much more immediate fashion. He offers Akechi a hand, knowing that he probably won't take it. ]

[There's a slight snarl of sound to the question and Akechi smacks Akira's offered hand away. Oh, how he wishes it were that easy, to just take the hand offered to him and allow Akira to help him to his feet. He folds his feet back under him and stands, dusting himself off with a scowl, and shoots the thief an icy frown, reaching out toward what moments ago was a wall.]

[His hand goes through it, as it's just air with Akira within arm's length again, and his shoulders pull tight and he takes an adamant few steps downward, bewildered.]

There-- you heard that, right? I hit something. [He's not crazy. Right?]

I heard you fall. [ Akira crouches down, wafting a hand through the air where Akechi had seemingly come up against nothing -- but nothing is there. He steps onto the landing, and catches Sojiro glancing at the two of them, equal parts perturbed and exasperated. On the upside, there wasn't anyone in the cafe this late in the afternoon, so the commotion couldn't be bad for business.

All the same, Akira flashes Sojiro a smile, a wave, and then grabs Akechi by the arm to tug him back upstairs. Clearly, this means they're not done here. ]

There's nothing there... [ Akira says it, but it doesn't sound disbelieving. Just curious, like it's another strange quirk of the Metaverse. Except this is reality, and reality shouldn't be reforming itself or causing any problems like this. ]

[Akechi makes a mortified yowl of a sound, squashed in his throat because he does know how to be polite enough to at least try to not disrupt Sojiro's business, empty as it may be. As soon as Akira isn't dragging him he's pulling his arm away and dusting himself off, swatting at the air between them and scowling, shoulders bunched up near his ears.]

Yes, it would seem that way. So my next question is simply this: what are you playing at? [Because it was easier if this was Akira's fault, naturally.]

Punch Ouch. [ Which is the game that Akira was, quite literally, playing at, prior to his life getting turned a little upside down. It's still in the console and everything. Once Akechi is dusting himself off, Akira steps back down the stairs. He encounters no resistance, even when he waves his hand through the section of air that Akechi had ricocheted off of.

Then Akira makes a humming noise, stepping back up to where he'd been standing before. ]

...try again. [ Akira doesn't say to be careful, because he's certain the sheer injury to Akechi's pride will ensure that. ]

[He has to consciously try to not snarl at him for the ease of his response-- that wasn't what he meant and they both knew it, but that was just... how Akira did things. He draws in a careful breath, exhales, and turns toward the stairs again. This time, he splays one hand out in front of him as he goes, taking the stairs one at a time until at roughly the same spot, his hand meets resistance.]

[He presses on it, first gently, gradually adding more pressure until both his hands are pressed flat to it, and he's leaned his entire upper body into it. He grinds his teeth and swears softly under his breath, standing back on the stairs properly and angling himself toward Akira to call for his attention.]

This is utterly preposterous.

... huh. [ That's... weird. ]

Morgana's with Futaba. I'll see if he knows. [ Which does mean telling someone else -- everyone else -- that Akechi is alive and (relatively) well. Akira is pretty sure that Akechi would rather everyone else know that than have something Akechi himself doesn't know. Akechi's intelligence is half of his presentation, after all, and he has precious little left.

Except Akira, but Akira doesn't think that Akechi actually counts him as an asset. Cruel.

Akira steps down the stairs, a second later, and promptly watches Akechi pitch forward into the air. ]

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forgive my lack of icons

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hissy cat icon again

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1/2 because it be like that

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