[ Akira doesn't reply immediately, and when he finally does, it isn't in words. He steps away, wishing that he could go far enough to go downstairs -- to make Akechi something to drink, even if he had no desire to do so; to busy his hands and give them both something else to focus on.
He can't do that, though, so instead he just digs around for a moment, producing a couple of the more interesting books he's collected over his year away from home. He sets them down on the couch, on the blankets he's already put there, wordlessly and cautiously.
He doesn't think Akechi will be in the mood to read, but it's still a nice shield to have in front of one's face. It occurs to him that perhaps the nice gestures are in their own way, worse than anything else, but Akira can't manage anything else. Finally, he ventures: ]
no subject
He can't do that, though, so instead he just digs around for a moment, producing a couple of the more interesting books he's collected over his year away from home. He sets them down on the couch, on the blankets he's already put there, wordlessly and cautiously.
He doesn't think Akechi will be in the mood to read, but it's still a nice shield to have in front of one's face. It occurs to him that perhaps the nice gestures are in their own way, worse than anything else, but Akira can't manage anything else. Finally, he ventures: ]
Do you want any ice? For your face.