[Watching him fall into the same habit he got relatively used to seeing from a different seat at the bar makes Akechi's insides go sort of cold. Nothing about this was right. Akira was busying himself to have something to do, and Akechi was only sitting still because he couldn't do much of anything else. He closes his eyes again, lacing his fingers together and slowly tightening their grip on one another until his knuckles under his gloves went white and his wrists shook. He stopped watching Akira make the coffee, stopped watching anything, really, and tried to focus on keeping his breathing even.]
[He was supposed to be dead. For all intents and purposes, he should still want to be dead. But the familiar smell of brewing coffee makes the chill under his skin flood warm, and drops his forehead onto his hands and presses them apart so they stop shaking, leaving his fingers woven together to give him something to rest his face against. For as long as he thinks he was unconscious or sleeping (because he doesn't really remember), he's baffled by how suddenly exhausted he is by his own existence.]
this icon is inaccurate i just like using it
[He was supposed to be dead. For all intents and purposes, he should still want to be dead. But the familiar smell of brewing coffee makes the chill under his skin flood warm, and drops his forehead onto his hands and presses them apart so they stop shaking, leaving his fingers woven together to give him something to rest his face against. For as long as he thinks he was unconscious or sleeping (because he doesn't really remember), he's baffled by how suddenly exhausted he is by his own existence.]