stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[He probably didn't even graduate. He doesn't think too hard about that, shaking his head and leaning against the plastic divider to the row of seats on the train, arms folded over his chest.]

I know I hardly seem the type, but there are a few things... [He trails off, looking out the window but downward, and he looks pretty sincerely crushed for a moment before he schools his expression again, lifting his head and frowning.] ...no matter, if they're gone, they're gone. [He'll deal with that as it happens.]

[ If Akechi was literally anyone else, Akira would give him a hug, or hold his hand, or give him some form of basic physical comfort. But Akechi is Akechi, so Akira just leans in a little to brush their shoulders together, the closest thing to physical comfort he thinks he can get away with. ]

Everyone's got things they don't want to lose. [ Sometimes those things are physical objects.

Sometimes they're people. ]

[He's enough out of sorts at the prospect that he hardly reacts, just turns his head slightly toward Akira at the brush of their shoulders. He considers for the briefest of moments seeing what would happen if he leaned back-- if for once in his life, he sought contact, but he can't stomach it. Not with the very real idea that he's lost what little material items he ever wanted to keep looming two train stops away. So he just hugs his arms a little closer to his body like he's cold and tries (and fails) to keep the anxious pinch out of his expression. It's minor, it's mostly a crease to his eyebrows and a tension in his jaw, but Akira would probably notice it.]

[Damn thief noticed everything.] ...I shouldn't, [It's a vague statement, because he shouldn't what? Shouldn't have things he doesn't want to lose? And what for? Because of who he is? Because he should be dead? He closes his eyes and tries his best to keep still, then, but as they slow down for the stop prior to where they need to exit, he starts tapping the index finger of his left hand against his elbow.]

You're still a person. [ Akira sounds a little distant, but it's only so he can mask the intensity of the statement. To Akira, Akechi is so much, a tightly wound coil of potential and intelligence that's ready to shatter at the slightest provocation. Akechi is a wounded animal that won't acknowledge its own handicap; he's a monster out of a monster movie where it turns out humans were the real monsters all along -- but the monsters don't know that. ]

You can want things. [ Things. Concepts, like safety and home and praise. People.

Akira is taking things with Akechi one thing at a time, and telling himself that if Akechi chooses to leave after all this is over, if he dies or if he chooses to never see Akira again, that Akira will be all right.

He's starting to think that kind of denial is as deep as some of Akechi's. ]

That's debatable, [His tone is... rough-- he sounds hollow, similarly to how he did as he went entirely psychotic on the ship representing his father's cognition. He's quiet, speaking softly in a way that he doesn't, typically. Even when he isn't playing the Detective Prince, he's always been able to fake confidence in how he speaks, to enunciate and conduct himself in a way that elicits a reaction, regardless of the sort. But as the train pulls off from the stop, he pushes away from the divider between him and the seats, moving toward the door on the opposite side.]

...it's the next stop.

[Akira certainly wasn't wrong to assume him a monster in a movie where humans were the real monsters. It's true, and he is-- except the real monsters, the humans, are just the adults that failed him time and time again as a child. That made him grow into this twisted, mangled farce of a boy, with barbed wire around his insides that twisted a little tighter every time he thought, even for a moment, that he could relax. That he could trust. And so now, when presented with the actual safety he should have known as he grew, when offered a real and honest hand to help him up off his proverbial and constantly scraped knees, he turned it away because why should this time be any different?]

Hey. I-- [ Akira falters, which is unusual for him, but Akechi is a landmine. Akira doesn't mind him lashing out at Akira, but he doesn't want him to lash out internally. Akechi hates himself enough without any extra ammunition, no matter how well-meaning it may be. ]

...no matter what, you've got a place to stay with me. [ He doesn't say "with us" or "at Leblanc" -- he says with me, because if it came down to it, Akira would tell his parents 'see ya' and get an apartment somewhere with Akechi instead. He'd do it for most of his friends, but they all know that. Yusuke knows that Akira would back him up if he needed it; Ann knows that she's always welcome; Futaba invites herself over regularly.

But Akechi -- doesn't know that, doesn't believe it, and Akechi doesn't have a home. Akira knows that orbiting Akira on a five foot tether means that obviously he has to stay with him, but after that. Beyond that.

Beyond that, Akechi is still welcome, and wanted. ]

[It's horrifying because he knows Akira wouldn't lie to him about this. For years Akechi has kept his head above water by treading it, and never stopping. He's never once let someone else help him. But Akira... Akira has never failed him. None of them have. And the very real possibility that he could be safe, even with the only thing he's known and valued for as long as he can remember veritably crumbling away from him before he even reaches where he kept it is wreaking absolute havoc on him. He reaches out, very carefully putting his hand against Akira's upper arm and just staring straight ahead at the door of the train.]

[His breathing has gone so shallow that he's hardly getting any air, but it kicks the adrenaline into his system to keep him standing.]

Stop. [His voice is still quiet. It's not... really a demand. It's a plea.]

[ It's something. It feels wrong to call it progress, when it clearly affects Akechi so deeply, but it's something. He isn't rejecting it entirely, even though he could; even in a crowded train, he could say something appropriately cruel, if he wanted.

He doesn't, and so Akira doesn't push it. He reaches out, very carefully, and pus a hand on Akechi's shoulder for a brief moment. He doesn't squeeze, barely lets the touch linger there more than a second before he moves it, shifting slightly to make sure that anyone's direct line of sight to Akechi is broken. ]

We can get lunch after this. You're probably already tired of curry. [ It's a pointless little sentence, a meaningless topic change, but Akira can steer them back into the shallows. He's not going to let them drown in the vast expanse underneath them, full of landmines and rapids and entirely too many feelings. ]

[That will last exactly as long as it takes for them to get to his apartment and discover it is inhabited, and Akechi's brain is too hazed and full of bees to even really acknowledge Akira's care in changing topics, but were he any less so, he might have the capacity to appreciate it. As it stands, the anxiety roiling in his body makes his stomach turn at the thought of eating, and it shows in the way his arm curls across his middle and he exhales when he drops his hand from Akira's arm.]

[He should eat-- he never got to the eggs Akira made mention of aiming to prepare before Futaba stormed the cafe, and moreover Akira should probably also eat, but the thought of food very nearly makes him gag, shuffling a little closer to the door.]

Mmnh, [It's a noncommittal response, just vague enough to not tip the scales in either direction. Neutral. If you ignore the sallow tinge to his skin, at least.]

[All too soon the train is slowing, and as the brakes are applied it's a bit like they're pressing on him, too, because he becomes very small and compact where he stands without really changing much of his posture. There's tension in every part of him, from his shoulders to his neck down his spine to both of his knees being locked. The train stops and sways back briefly in the direction they came before the doors slide open with silent hydraulics, the pleasant announcement overhead designating their stop.]

[It takes him a moment to step forward and off the train, and he's sure he looks more than a little robotic, but he navigates like it hasn't been months since he's been here.]

[ Akira follows. It's been months since Akechi was here, but not for Akechi -- he was here nearly the entire time, from his perspective, and while Akira doesn't know if "death" meant anything specific to Akechi, it was probably no more than a prolonged blink of an eye. But the world changed around him, even moreso without Maruki's influence, and Akira imagines it must be like waking up from a prolonged coma.

Akira's starting to think this entire thing might have been a bad idea. He should have sent someone else, maybe, but he doubts Akechi would have allowed that. It's something that Akechi's doing when he knows it'll hurt himself, and Akira understands that kind of impulse, even if Akira doesn't usually indulge in it.

Aside from a single glove on the bookshelf. ]

Or the jazz club... We could go there. [ Akira isn't sure Akechi will want to go somewhere nice if it turns out his apartment is gone, but it could be a decent distraction. ]

[He wants to tell Akira to just stop talking, because he doesn't want to focus on words and trying to respond to them, but he's too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to get to his apartment complex. The result is just silence, which he figures may be just as effective at getting Akira to shut up, in the end.]

[He stops at the mailboxes, and his name isn't listed. He leaves two fingers on a family name that isn't his own for a moment, but moves to the stairs anyway, going to the third floor. He slows down at the same number that he left his fingers on, but the wrong name is on the placard outside the door, as well, so he keeps walking, moving to the other side of the building and taking those stairs back down. He seems to pretty specifically say nothing at all through all this, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at Akira, but knowing he's still there because he could continue to move.]

[At the bottom of the stairs, he steps to the side off the sidewalk and crouches, lacing his hands together and pressing his thumbs into his temples, leaning his forehead into his interwoven fingers.]

It might take me longer than anticipated to repay you for this train fare.

I'm going to touch you. [ Which is about all the warning Akechi gets before Akira is going to reach down and drag him up and further into one of the alleys. Kichijouji's are all well lit and clean -- nicer than Shibuya's, certainly -- but there's much less foot traffic in them and far less of a chance that someone will happen upon the fallen Detective Prince having a breakdown on the curb.

Once that's done, Akira lets him crumple again, stepping to block out Akechi from the view from the main thoroughfare. ]

It's fine. I'm the one responsible for you being back, right?

[ Akira brings his phone out a moment later. He cranes his neck to try and get the name of the apartment complex, fails, and then puts the address into his phone instead, gets the number for the main office. When the phone call picks up, Akira uses his best, most charismatic Joker voice, the one that makes him sound like a womanizing adult instead of a teenager who sometimes wonders if gummy candies grow on trees. ]

Hi, I'm calling from [ a beat, as Akira lies when he realizes he doesn't know the truth; ] Kosei High, trying to get in touch with a resident that used to live there. Yes, I'm his homeroom teacher, his name is Akechi Goro? ...Did he leave a forwarding address? I see. With the prosecutor's office? I see, thank you. No, I'll be sure to relay this to the principal.

[ Akira then ends that call, and then immediately makes another one, but with his normal voice. ]

Hey. Did you clear out Akechi's apartment? ...do you still have everything? [ There's a beat while he's listening, and then he offers Akechi a smile. ]

Did Makoto tell you? Yeah, he's really back. Uh, he's not really in the mood for any visitors yet, but we're trying to get his things... Yeah, whatever isn't in evidence. [ Akira hums gently onto the phone line. ] No, definitely. Thanks. ...Yeah. Yeah, I would have.

[ And then, his series of phone calls made, he turns back towards Akechi. ]

Niijima-san cleared your apartment out before the lease ended. Anything that seemed important that wasn't evidence, she has.

[He thought he was fine until Akira suddenly touching him (though he did warn him, which he appreciated in some small amount) made him realize he'd started shallowing his breathing out again and therefore wasn't quite getting enough oxygen to his brain to hear or feel anything correctly. He isn't coordinated enough to fight back, and Akira doesn't drag him far, so he just drops back into a crouch and tries to compartmentalize his everything so he can get back up and go back to Leblanc and not shake apart at the fact that the last of what he cared about was gone.]

[But then Akira-- no, Joker is talking, and Akechi's head snaps up and he sucks in a full lungful of air in alarm, and he doesn't figure out what the fuck is happening until he hears the words forwarding address and his insides go cold all over again. He picks up his hands and tries to make a Stop gesture, but Akira is on a mission, so he just watches him talk with Joker's voice and his normal face and makes every possible effort to not think about how that makes his stomach squirm in a strangely positive way.]

[The next phone call makes him nauseous and shaky again, because he really isn't prepared for anyone to know he's alive yet, but they all do, and apparently Niijima Sae saw fit to keep his belongings and he is going to be sick. He sits squarely on his ass on the pavement with his knees drawn toward his chest and folds his arms around them, ducking his head to rest his forehead against the backs of his wrists. He moves one arm to wave Akira off at his words, warbling faintly.]

I'll thank her when I'm less likely to vomit in an alley, [And he'll thank Akira, too, probably, but right now he's too many degrees of overwhelmed to do anything but try and keep what he hasn't eaten in his stomach.]

[ Akira kneels down, a second later, and very carefully reaches out to take one of Akechi's wrists in a loose grip. He doesn't do much with it, just slowly rubs his thumb in a circle over the pulse point. Akira is acquainted enough with anxiety and panic reactions, given that Futaba is basically his little sister at this point and both Haru and Yusuke have had crying breakdowns over things before, so Akira has not only experienced it all first hand but has even looked up 'how to help friend panic attack'.

Granted, most of that advice didn't apply to someone who had just come back from the dead after trying to kill you and failing, but. There's a ton of things that Akira could say about the situation, but continuing to talk about it right now is only going to make it more of an overload for Akechi, so --]

Huh. You know, when Futaba gets upset, she goes and watches Featherman. There's a new season out since you've been gone. The theme is... pirates? I think it's pirates.

[He doesn't even protest, because at first he isn't sure he's actually feeling it, and by the time he registers that there are hands on him and a thumb massaging the pressure point in his wrist, the anxious throbbing in his everything has subsided enough that he can pick up his head and actually see Akira without having to take thirty seconds to focus on him.]

[He shifts his hand enough to loosely curl his fingers around Akira's, shaking his head.]

I'm so far behind on Featherman it's laughable, Kurusu. Is there a... vending machine, help me stand up. [It's easier when he's making demands of him to allow his help, somehow.]

We'll get caught up. [ Akira helps hoist Akechi up like it's a totally normal thing, and then he glances around the area. It's been awhile since he came to Kichijouji, but he still visits Sumire often enough that it only takes him a second to get oriented.

He nods his head at the nearest vending machine, dropping his hands away from Akechi after just a moment longer than necessary. ]

Over there.

[He'd have preferred Akira let go as soon as he was standing, but he can't deny that he's shaky on his feet for a few steps, so maybe it wasn't the most terrible thing to endure. He squints at the area, mumbling something about the street Akira dragged him down, and rifles through his pocket for some change to grab something to drink. He leans on the machine as it vends, and turns toward Akira with a curious raise of his eyebrows. Do you want anything, Sir Helpful? It's your money, anyway.]

[He keeps one hand on the machine as he sinks into a crouch to claim his prize-- a short bottle of Aquarius, probably --and puts the bottle against his face for a moment before standing again in favor of opening it.]

I'd ask you forgive my display of idiocy, but I get the feeling you'd tell me it wasn't a problem. [It is, but only to Akechi himself, really.]

It's cute when you get grumpy about being human. [ Akira offers him a smile, and then leans in to tap on the option for a can of tsubumi orange, which he feels is the best possible options when drinking canned coffee feels like it'll get him kicked out of Leblanc and he doesn't feel like anything carbonated when they're going to be on the train later. ]

Unless you're trying to kill me, most things aren't really a problem. [ There's no polite way to say "I like seeing all sides of you even when you're trying not to have a public meltdown" without it sounding absolutely psychotic. ]

You say things like that and then say it isn't a problem unless I'm trying to kill you when the first could easily lead to the second, [He closes his eyes and leans on the machine with his shoulder, taking tiny sips of his drink and trying to decide if he wants to keep drinking it, slowly withering to a crouch again.]

So Niijima knows too, now.

It sounded like Makoto had already told her something. [ Phantom Thieves and associates were basically all one network, these days, and given that everyone had nearly fallen over themselves to talk to Akechi -- and get shot down -- Akira isn't surprised that it was a quick game of telephone. ]

She said you could stop by for everything, or she could leave it at Leblanc. It sounded like she figured you might not want to see her right away. [ She'd also said that she was going to make sure that no one else realized Akechi was alive in terms of, like, Shido's former associates, but Akira doesn't mention that right away. ]

I cannot understand why any of you are so excited about my presence. [Akechi is already thinking it-- he trusts Niijima, she was amazing at her job when he worked with her. The fact that he was a sham the whole time makes facing her almost as difficult as facing Haru, and he wasn't responsible for the death of Sae's father. The fact that she seized his things, that she kept them...]

[He can't quite figure out how he's going to repay any of these people for their inexplicable kindness. He doesn't deserve it, for what he did, but they still offer it. A quiet sound escapes him, and he caps his bottle of drink to press it to his eyes again.]

I can't do this.

Even... if you had done bad things, it didn't mean that you deserved to die. I think a lot of them were upset at how unfair it was when we'd done so much to try and correct things. [ Akira doesn't look at Akechi; he gazes away for a long moment, trying to decide how to articulate his thoughts. ]

A lot of them are happy for me. [ Because you're back, is the thought, but he doesn't want to help Akechi get there. He wants Akechi to get there on his own. Sae had told him that she'd gotten Akechi's things, originally, for Akira, but she hadn't found a good time to give them to him -- she hadn't wanted to reopen a wound still in the middle of healing. She understood grief, after all. ]

I'm sorry. [ Not for bringing him back, exactly, but for the fact that it's so overwhelming; for the fact that he couldn't convince Akechi that he was worthwhile before he tried to one man army a cognitive version of himself. For the fact that Akechi thought they'd all been pretending when they'd been his friend, but they hadn't, not really.

They'd all wanted to believe the best, even when they knew the worst. ]

Why on earth are you sorry? [He drops the bottle away from his face and doesn't look at Akira, but raises his head like he's considering it.] Except that you've dragged a corpse out of his casket when it's the only place he's ever belonged? It doesn't make any sense that you're happy, that they're happy for you, I'm a thorn in your side and now you're having to babysit me because you can't go anywhere without me anymore than I can go anywhere without you, and neither of us want this.

[He looks at him, then, a tension in his jaw that reads like pleading.] Neither of us.

...You could belong with me. [ Akira says it, knowing that Akechi will reject it -- but it has to be said. He looks at Akechi, and as much as Akechi's face looks pleading Akira's looks strangely guarded. He's always been something of a mirror; people see in him what they want to see, but he doesn't want Akechi to see anything negative even if that's all Akechi can manage. ]

It was never fake for us, you know. [ Akira says it a little too lightly for it to be as insignificant as he makes it sound. ] Haru and Futaba aren't going to be your best friends, but we had a good idea of who you were going in, you know? It wasn't that we were fooled by you and wanted to be friends with the Detective Prince. We wanted to be your friend in spite of that.

[He full-on recoils like he's been burned, at that, the hand around his bottle of drink squeezing the plastic enough that it warps the shape.] You really delight in saying the stupidest things that filter to the forefront of your empty head, don't you.

[He stands up again, stiffly, opening and taking a sip from his drink just to give Akira the space to talk-- Lord knows he's going to say whatever it is he wants to say anyway.] It was never my intention to allow for friendship. We had a deal to work through, and nothing more. Why you've all decided we were friends, and still are now that you've apparently evoked my second coming, does not and will not make sense to me. I was, am, and will be an enemy to you, whether I'm tethered to you like an animal or not.

are you hurting the one you love?

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