are you hurting the one you love?

[stealhearted]

psst psst [clicks tongue for akechi, sets out curry as a treat]--

Comments

[stealhearted]

Most of the people that go to the bath house in this area are so elderly they probably wouldn't recognize you, but just in case. [ He's also pretty sure none of them will be able to see the bruise on Akechi's cheek since you don't generally wear glasses into the bath, so they should be safe on both counts.

Akira leaves most of his things in the attic before he heads downstairs with Akechi, giving a little wave to Sojiro and receiving a vague nod of the head in return as Sojiro tries to puzzle out a five letter word for "to eat sparingly". ]

Oh, if you need to do any laundry, the laundromat's right next door. Once you've got more clothes, anyway. [ Akira does not state that he sometimes calls his teacher to do his laundry for fifty bucks. ]

[forfeited]

[He hums again, thoughtful and maybe hoping Akira isn't just optimistic. He follows on his heel, only in part due to their circumstances, but also maybe because he just doesn't want the chance to be noticed by anyone else. He does pause briefly and peer at Sojiro's crossword, tapping one finger against the counter and "writing" a letter against the wood before winking and breaking into a brief jog to catch up with Akira before he's forced.]

[Maybe he likes crossword puzzles, okay.]

[He falls in step alongside him, this time, a faint, but absolutely present grin quirking at the corner of his mouth. It doesn't fade entirely when he lifts his head to give Akira a look.] Yes, I remember the laundromat.

[stealhearted]

I might be used to my friends being really absent-minded. [ Akira says it a little ruefully, because Ryuji and Yusuke would probably still get lost in Yongen-Jaya if they were left to their own devices. But it's fine; Akira will sound dumb a thousand times over if it helps keep that smile on Akechi's face. ]

I think Ann's forgotten I don't have a bathroom about six times.

[forfeited]

Yes, well. With all due respect, some of the company you keep isn't the brightest. [He might actually mean that fondly. It's hard to say. The smile stays, at least.]

[stealhearted]

You can either be really smart, or really good with people, but very rarely both. [ This is what Akira has learned in his time with other human beings. Sometimes they're neither, of course, but he doesn't say that.

Akira heads into the bath house with the confidence born of complete familiarity, stowing his things away. He's long past any hangups about nudity in front of others, even if it's a little different to be naked in front of Akechi now...

Don't make it weird, Akira. ]

[forfeited]

[He hums curiously, tilting his head and wandering in after him, following suit with little to no shyness to be found.]

Oh? Then what does that make you? [Oh boy. It Has Begun.]

[stealhearted]

Oh, I'm definitely-- [ And then Akira cuts off abruptly. He's turn to look at Akechi, to give a comeback and continue the verbal sparring that's such a pillar of their relationship, but Akechi is naked.

And that's not the distracting part, given the way the half-smile falls directly off his face and he looks -- for a moment -- like he's been absolutely gutted. He looks very similar to the way the cognitive Akira had when Akechi had shot him: wounded and scared and resigned all at once.

It takes him a second to recover, and the only reason he does is because he doesn't want to burden Akechi with his own weakness -- but it's there. An ugly red mark, a raised puncture of a scar right over his heart, the unmistakable look of a bullet hole. Of a shot that someone wouldn't have been able to survive.

Of a shot that he didn't survive. ]

Sorry, I wasn't expecting -- [ And Akira just gestures, helplessly, to Akechi's chest. ]

1/2

[forfeited]

[He can't deny that he enjoys the banter, himself. It's familiar in a way he didn't expect to have... missed, maybe, it's hard to say, and he's afraid to think that maybe, just maybe this could be normal, now, but the exchanges they fire between themselves were always something he enjoyed. As such, he's looking forward to whatever Akira returns, grin still in place until he cuts off suddenly.] No witty comeback for that, Kurusu? You're losing your touch.

[But when he turns to figure out what could have disrupted him, the expression on Akira's face turns his whole body to ice again-- familiar, in such a way that he takes a small step away from him and immediately looks at each of his hands, briefly. He looks from them back to Akira, and his face, and in confusion follows his alarmed line of sight.]

[He regrets it immediately.]

[forfeited]

[He relives the entire thing as soon as he sees that scar, gnarled as it is neat, and he sucks in a startled breath and brings a hand up to cover it, reflexively.]

[After that wall went up, his last lifeline barricaded away from him in staunch refusal to allow them to help, he remembers distinctly the sensation of being shot, as if Akira's frightened stare had fired another bullet. He'd tried to stay standing, he thinks, either that or it had just felt like it took several minutes for him to hit the floor. And then it was quiet, and he was cold, save for the pool of warmth that grew beneath him that he knew was blood, knew was him dying.]

[It took ages. He had time to go over every little mistake he'd made, first in the Metaverse, then in the real world, his head spinning a timeline backward like some kind of sick funhouse wheel that never really stopped, just blurred together the countless times he'd messed up. Akira was in a lot of those memories, but never as the mistake.]

[Outside of his own head, he just crumpled inward and then down, dropping into a crouch beside the lockers with one hand still pressed against the scar over his heart, his thumb pressing against it as if he expected it to bleed again, and was stemming it before it could. His other hand went to his head, fingers threaded into his hair, and were he any more aware of his surroundings he may have been impressed with himself for not screaming. Instead he just heaved in shaking breaths, slowly folding forward until the back of the hand in his hair touched the tile floor.]

[stealhearted]

[ Akira is moving the second Akechi crumples. He moves forward automatically, with a dim portion of his brain registering how glad he is that he timed this right, since the only other people at the bath house is just a singular elderly man already in the water and nowhere near their line of sight. Akira drops down, one hand on either side of Akechi's face, drifting to hold him steady, to feel the heat of his skin, to transfer some of Akira's own heat to him. ]

Akechi -- Goro. Goro, stay with me. [ He can hear each ragged breath that Akechi is dragging in, hear the way the breaths are a staccato rhythm that's too fast, too shallow. It's not nearly enough when Akechi is curling in on himself, gripping himself like he's already back there.

Akira calculates his odds, rapidly, and then reaches forward, pressing two fingers just above the scar, where the skin is only pink instead of a swollen red, where he can still feel the pounding of Akechi's heart. His palm closes over Akechi's hand, the two of them pressing over a wound that isn't going to bleed again. ]

I've got you. [ Akira is comforting both of them, he thinks: it's a reminder that the last time he didn't save Akechi, but he did, he brought him back. It wasn't fast enough. It wasn't soon enough, but he's managed it in the end, which has to count for something.

Akira doesn't know what guilt he's trying to assuage.

Akira's hand leaves Akechi's cheek, goes up to press against that hand, too, lacing their fingers together as he holds onto Akechi. ]

I've got you.

[forfeited]

[The fingers threaded in his hair curl, fingernails dragged against his scalp, and he pulls on his hair in a squeezing motion that he times with his own heartbeat at the sensation of Akira's hands on his face. He has been through so much, he can deal with this. Akira is right there, watching him have the fourth disastrous fit since he's been back in his life (which could be a perfectly acceptable number had he not only been back in his life for barely twnety-four hours), and all he was trying for was to keep him grounded. He hears him speak, but it sounds like he's underwater, the words garbled and far away, and he just shakes his head, because he can't process words right now, come back later, Akira.]

[His hand over his heart covered, he takes in the first full breath of air he's taken since he noticed the scar, which feels like hours and seconds all at once, and a moment later he picks his head up and once again regrets looking where he wants, because all he sees is the same scar on his chest between Akira's eyes again. His hand slips out from under Akira's, his other from his hair, and he crawls his way forward to set one hand on his shoulder and the other against his forehead, lost in two separate memories he never really wanted to live through the first time.]

[stealhearted]

Goro. [ Akira can tell he still isn't seeing, still trapped in that memory. Akira still has dreams about dying -- about something going wrong; about Akechi killing him; about the officers interrogating him beating him until they did more damage than he could recover from -- but it must be a thousand times worse for Akechi. Akira has had several months to slowly get over the feelings surrounding it, and he didn't actually die.

Akechi's got him beat 2-0, at this point.

But words aren't working, and Akira has always been a creature of impulse and plans made on the fly more than anything else. In that regard, he's just about the opposite of Akechi, preferring to react on instinct more than anything else. So he leans in, dragging his hands through Akechi's hair and pressing their lips together.

It's a chaste kiss, as far as these things go. It's meant to startle and distract more than anything else, because Akechi is too worked up for it to be much else, but it's one of the things that Akira has never done before and definitely something that Akechi can't paste over with memories from the ship. ]

[forfeited]

[It does it's job to snap him back to the present, a sharp gasp burning his lungs from how little he thought about it when he hasn't been breathing right for the better part of a few minutes, the burn then proceeding to crawl up his esophagus and tear its way out of his eyes. He makes a terrible, wobbly little sound, about as fragile as he feels, and drags the hand on Akira's forehead backward through his hair and around, dragging him forward and either ignoring or not even registering the fact that they're having this breakdown on the floor of a bath house while they're both completely naked.]

[It's fine,]

I didn't mean it, [He manages, his voice high and stretched thin like over-pulled taffy.] I didn't-- I'm sorry, I would take it back.

[stealhearted]

You're okay now. I've got you. [ And Akira leans forward, presses his forehead against Akechi's. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, when he takes in a breath and tries to figure out exactly how a trip to the bath house went so amazingly sideways.

It figures that neither of them would have noticed this scar earlier and been able to have this entire breakdown at, like, Leblanc, instead. Of course not. That'd be too easy.

Akira pets down the side of Akechi's hair, slowly, a comforting gesture like the kind that Futaba said her mom used to do, the kind that she taught Akechi to do. It's not something Akira is familiar with on a general level, but -- anything that'll help, right now. ]

I've got you, Goro.

[forfeited]

[Were he any more aware of anything he might be proud of himself for not sobbing, but then again he didn't think he ever really sobbed when he cried, save for the times he cried as a small child, which he especially doesn't remember. He lets Akira's petting soothe him, lets it carefully put him back on somewhat solid ground, even if he's heaving with how hard it is to breathe.]

I don't-- [He keeps his arms around Akira's shoulders, squeezes him.] I don't remember telling you you could call me by my first name. [Ah, there he is.]

[stealhearted]

[ Akira nuzzles into him, automatically, like a cat trying to scent-mark a familiar person, Akira's hair a soft trickle against Akechi's skin. ]

There you are. It got your attention, didn't it? [ Since calling "Crow" would have been just the absolute worst idea, under the circumstances, and "Akechi" wouldn't have gotten his attention... at any rate, it's a gentle admission that Akira doesn't plan on doing it routinely.

Yet. ]

[forfeited]

[He shifts and mashes his face against the hollow of Akira's shoulder, pointedly because his face is soggy and damp, and shakes his head.] Shut up. Nobody calls me that.

[stealhearted]

That just means I can be the first! [ Akira says it triumphantly, like he's determined to be as many of Akechi's "firsts" as possible. Well, first since Akechi was a child, he imagines. ]

It's a cute name. [ It's all detective-y and surprisingly old-fashioned, so Akira's weirdly partial to it, which could just be because he's head over heels for Akechi. Akira waits a minute, and then, carefully: ] Can you stand okay?

[forfeited]

[He's still kind of leaking from his facial orifices and hates that, so he just squeezes his hold on Akira's shoulders a moment before he draws back, nodding and smearing one hand over his face like an embarrassed child.] Mmn. I'm-- sorry, that... was an entirely overblown reaction.

[stealhearted]

It wasn't. I guess it wasn't there, in January? [ Back when Akechi was ... cognitive, and yet somehow not. That entire thing straddled the line of reality, so Akira supposes it isn't too strange to imagine that Maruki would have brought him back without signs of his death.

Reality, generally, seems to be less kind. Akira moves slightly, slowly helping Akechi back up to his feet. If Akechi doesn't immediately shove him off, Akira will take one of the bath towels and gently press it to Akechi's face -- it's not that Akechi is embarrassing to Akira, but Akira thinks Akechi feels better when he can more easily hide any signs that he has human emotions. ]

[forfeited]

Given how that bastard had chosen to twist everything up to be everyone's "happy ending", I guess it makes sense.

[He puts two fingers over the scar again, easily manhandled into standing again. He makes a vaguely irritated humming sound at the towel, but claims it with his other, relatively pointedly leaning into Akira's side. ...despite them still being naked. It's still fine. Smudging the towel over his face a moment, he turns to look at Akira, frowning and serious, before moving the hand from his scar and pushing his fringe aside to make sure there isn't a matching one between his eyes. Obviously there wasn't, because he hadn't killed the real Akira, only the cognitive one, but a bit of tension goes out of his shoulders when he only encounters smooth skin, anyway.]

[stealhearted]

Don't worry, I'm alive and kicking. [ Much to the chagrin of his enemies, he's sure. Akira casts a glance back at the door, hedging bets on how long they have until people do start to come in -- and given Akechi looks like he just had a crying fit, with a bruise on his cheek and a fresh scar on his chest, Akira thinks maybe it's something that should be avoided. ]

Let's take that bath before the rush hits. [ Despite the fact that Akira is nearly an adult, he will spray Akechi with the water when they shower down ahead of time. ]

[forfeited]

[Given that Akechi just did have a crying fit, with a bruise and a fresh scar-- it's fine. He might even admit to any concerned old men that Akira had saved him from a broken home, in the most fake tone of voice ever.]

[He takes a few steadying breaths and nods, disengaging from him-- he was finding that harder every time he did it, which bode terribly for his ability to actually pull away when it mattered. Getting sprayed down elicits a sharp bark of sound from Akechi, regardless-- it's not quite a laugh, but almost, and he overturns a plastic bucket and flings it at him like a frisbee without missing a beat.] How do you stand coming to a public bath house anytime you get clean? This will be what really kills me, finally.

[stealhearted]

It's definitely the worst part of living here. [ A beat, and then: ] Also not having a door. [ It's not that Akira requires too much privacy, given that Sojiro leaves every night anyway and has been nothing but accommodating of the fact that Akechi, his "relationship status complicated" is now living in the attic with him, but still.

He misses having a door, and a bath. ]

But you get used to it. [ And make friends with all the elderly old men that frequent the bath houses, and then make friends with their wives, and suddenly you have a 50-year old recipe for inarizushi and they're giving you endless amounts of mochi on New Year's. ]</small<

[forfeited]

[He takes his time washing his hair, listening to Akira and humming thoughtfully about it, nodding before he fills up one of the plastic buckets and douses himself with it a few times to rinse his hair.]

...I'm hoping I won't have to. [His tone is a little... odd, saying that, because even if that much is true, because he doesn't want to be stuck to Akira like this, he's starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to stick around. Just... maybe not in the sense of being forced to live in a storage loft with him.]