[Akira's worry hurts. He thinks it's always hurt, but now especially, for some reason it's like being stabbed with a bread knife, slowly sawing the wound open in a terrible back and forth motion. Looking at him makes it harder, so he doesn't, just shakes his head again slowly at the question. He wants to apologize, but he fucking can't, he just can't. It's infuriating.]
[He does manage a short, wobbly sort of smile, raising the hand Akira isn't holding to wave it in front of his face like he's trying to brush away the concern. It's fine. He's fine, Akira. Please, let him pretend he's fine.]
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[He does manage a short, wobbly sort of smile, raising the hand Akira isn't holding to wave it in front of his face like he's trying to brush away the concern. It's fine. He's fine, Akira. Please, let him pretend he's fine.]