[He feels something like he's back at square one, against all the progress they've made. He wants to go to him, he wants to curl up against him and he wants to feel the comfort he's gotten too accustomed to, the warmth and the weight and the protective cage of Akira's person, he wants to fit back into it like he belongs there, he wants to belong there but it's impossible to convince himself he's allowed to. Even with Akira speaking so gently, reminding him it's okay, he's not a problem.]
[It's a lie, it just has to be. Nothing can be this comfortable this easily, least of all for him.]
[So instead he stays put, reaching up to find and tangle their fingers, shaking his head slowly. He'll allow himself something-- it's more for Akira's comfort, he thinks. His mind and his heart are waging war against each other-- why would Akira worry so much, why would he assure him of so many things, make him food and coffee like this, when he was just going to discard him? A ruse, obviously. To keep him comfortable until the moment he ejects him, to lower his guard. He has no reason to think such things of Akira, of any of them, really, but he can't shake that it has to be what's coming.]
[Mostly, he thinks, because he can't formulate what else could be coming.]
I am a problem, [He states, barely above a whisper.] I just. Am. [He traces along Akira's knuckles, dully realizing he's trying to memorize how they feel.]
no subject
[It's a lie, it just has to be. Nothing can be this comfortable this easily, least of all for him.]
[So instead he stays put, reaching up to find and tangle their fingers, shaking his head slowly. He'll allow himself something-- it's more for Akira's comfort, he thinks. His mind and his heart are waging war against each other-- why would Akira worry so much, why would he assure him of so many things, make him food and coffee like this, when he was just going to discard him? A ruse, obviously. To keep him comfortable until the moment he ejects him, to lower his guard. He has no reason to think such things of Akira, of any of them, really, but he can't shake that it has to be what's coming.]
[Mostly, he thinks, because he can't formulate what else could be coming.]
I am a problem, [He states, barely above a whisper.] I just. Am. [He traces along Akira's knuckles, dully realizing he's trying to memorize how they feel.]