[He absolutely refuses to admit that, in fact. He's aware of it-- they're both similar or exact opposites in just about every easily thought of set of traits, right down to their swapped dominant hands. It bothers him, sometimes, but it is what it is. There are days he's terrified of how perfect Akira is, how he is a being crafted from marble and covered in gold foil to be the embodiment of perfect opposition, how their differences and their similarities make them fit together like puzzle pieces, and it does little more than set his nerves on fire like frayed wires.]
[He makes a noncommittal grunt of a sound, continuing to refuse to acknowledge the similarities, and takes to rubbing the pad of his thumb against one of Akira's knuckles in lieu of tapping his fingers together.]
no subject
[He makes a noncommittal grunt of a sound, continuing to refuse to acknowledge the similarities, and takes to rubbing the pad of his thumb against one of Akira's knuckles in lieu of tapping his fingers together.]