stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

Mmhmm. [ Akira hums, and then leans down, gently tugging at the back of Akechi's shoes until they fall into a more reasonable shape that won't give him blisters even on the five minute walk back to Leblanc.

He does, however, reach out slightly, a hand hovering just behind the small of Akechi's back. He doesn't touch him, but it's there, a stabilizer should Akechi need it.

Akira doesn't acknowledge it. ]

You ate all the carrots out of your curry. Should I add in more?

[A long-suffering sigh, and he gives him a withered frown.] I understand that my behavior today has not instilled much confidence in my ability to function as an independent individual, but really, you needn't smother me.

[A beat, and he frowns, deliberating over whether or not he wants to be contrary enough to deny himself more carrots.] If you want to, [Which may be code for yes, please, give him so many carrots.]

This isn't smothering. This is... [ Akira considers, searching for a more complimentary word for his current behavior. ] Doting. [ Which kind of makes him sound like a grandmother forcing cookies upon the neighborhood children, but like, Akira's pretty sure neither of them had nice (or any) grandparents, so sure.

That's fine. ]

When you like someone, you want to do things for them. Even little things.

[His shoulders pull inward and he curls his fingers in toward his palms, scrunching his face and looking over at Akira like the approximation of a grandchild whose grandmother just gave him a really, really ugly sweater for Christmas.]

...well, [He huffs, because he knows Akira won't just stop, possibly can't, but in the best of cases it makes his insides squirm and in the worst it makes him feel like he's being rubbed on all sides by fine-grain sandpaper.] ...don't, so much. I know you won't stop, I'm not stupid enough to attempt to ask that, but, just... Don't hover. It's wildly disconcerting.

I'll stop hovering when you can stand without wobbling. [ Which Akechi is doing better at, actually, so Akira does give him a little more space. The fresh air outside is probably helping. It's actually pretty chilly, for as early as it is, but it probably feels good for as overheated as Akechi is. ]

[He huffs again and stops walking, standing upright and scowling at him a bit like a wounded animal.] I'm fine, Kurusu. I overheated in the bath last time, too, let me be. I'm just not used to them.

It's weird, huh? Having someone trying to take care of you. [ Akira doesn't say it in an accusatory way -- sort of a vague, almost scientifically curious way. Akira hasn't had anyone take care of him in a very long time, either. Sure, Sojiro's his guardian, and he's much more present than his actual parents, and all the other good adults in his life certainly do their best -- but Akira has never had anyone fuss over him.

There's never dinner waiting for him; his lunch is never packed ahead of time. No one is there when he's sick, and no one is there when he has nightmares. He thinks it must have been the same for Akechi, at least for most of Akechi's life. He doesn't know what his mom was like, not really.

Akira wonders, sometimes, if he's trying to take care of everyone else because no one ever took care of him. ]

I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. [He all but spits the response-- harsher than it needs to be, like many of his barbs are, each consonant hit a little harder than the last, but if he doesn't secure this much for himself, he's been skating by on the skin of his teeth since he was eight years old, and he refuses to believe or admit to that. He has little concept of the fact that Akira was under similar circumstances by different means, but really, knowing that might only anger him further. It's just another thing that Akira took in stride, handled like water rolling off a duck, swam through like a fish, when Akechi dug in his heels and insisted on being self-sufficient, made it harder for anyone to come close enough that they could even see he wasn't.]

[He isn't.]

[Still standing still, he covers his face with both his hands and inhales slowly, threading his fingers up into his hair again and pulling as he exhales. Eventually he stops pulling on his hair, smooths his hands backward, and looks back forward, poised and pretending.] Your concern really isn't necessary. [But oh, God, does he want to accept it.]

[ Akira waits until the fit is over before he replies. They're nearly at Leblanc, so he stops walking, watches the way it crumples through Akechi's body, his entire body language tensing under the strain of things Akira only knows the beginning of. ]

I know you can take care of yourself. [ Akira says it, glancing sideways at Akechi with a smile that's a little more sad than it is fond. ]

It's more like... I wanted someone to take care of me, sometimes. [ This time, the smile is definitely sad, even if it's even brighter when he turns it on Akechi properly. ]

So I want to take care of you like that. The kind of caring that you can get by without, but it's nicer not to.

[It's like he's being punched in the stomach repeatedly by his eight year old self, being told Akira wanted someone to take care of him. There are several voices in the back of his mind, all screaming something different: "I don't want someone to take care of me anymore than I need it", "I would have taken care of you if we'd met sooner", "Take care of yourself before you worry about others", and most prominently--]

Stop it.

[The sound he makes is like someone sweeping up broken glass, he thinks. It hardly classifies as a word. He can't go inside like this, not when there are probably still customers, and Sojiro besides, and he can't keep causing everyone trouble all the time because he's fine.]

[ Akira doesn't stop. On the contrary, he steps forward again, stepping into Akechi's personal space. Akechi's still wearing his hoodie, and he draws the hoodie back up, uses it to help block out the rest of the world and stand against the fact that Akechi now has a very prominent, uncovered bruise across his cheek.

Then he just drops a hand to Akechi's shoulder in an easy, gentle squeeze, like it's totally normal. ]

I don't think I can. [ It's a little self-deprecating, actually; it's a smile that's a little fake around the edges, a little bit of the child that had nightmares alone in his room, knowing that no one would help him if the monsters were real, trying to stay quiet in case his parents were home. ]

Like I said. You're the first time I've ever wanted something just for me. So I can't stop.

But I'm fine!

[He wrenches away, because of course he does, taking steps backward and away from him, swiping his hands through the air to push him away in case he tries to follow.] I'm fine, so just leave me alone, I don't need your saving! I don't want it...!

[You know, as evidenced by the fact that for the millionth time in this day, he sounds like he's seconds away from bursting into a horrible sobbing fit.]

[ Akira catches Akechi's wrists. It's not like Akechi is on the top of his game right now; he's worn and sore and ragged around all the edges that matter, so it's a pretty simple thing to do. Akira could probably overpower Akechi in terms of raw strength even if they were both at the top of their game -- though it'd be a little dicey back when they had Persona to use. ]

You're fine. [ Akira leans in, presses his forehead against Akechi's. It's not even romantic, really -- just more of those things he'd wished for someone else to do. ] You're always fine. You're fine, and you're strong, and you can take care of yourself, and you don't need anyone else.

I'm the one that needs you.

[He's absolutely infuriated that Akira managed to not only disassemble his argument that easily and that quickly, but he rebuilt it to use it against him in the most straightforward way to where Akechi can't... quite figure out how to rebuke him. He takes in more of those sharp, shallow little breaths like he was at the bath house, but not because he's trapped in awful memories, this time, because Akira is very real and very in front of him. Holding his wrists, putting their foreheads together.]

[Saying he needs him, the complete walnut.]

[It's hard to say if the shuddering way he breathes is because he's trying not to cry, or because he's just that incandescently angry, but it's probably a little of both.] I don't want to be needed, either. I'm not reliable, I-- I won't do any of the things you want of me. I can't.

I don't need you to do anything like that. You don't have to take care of me, or date me, or do anything you don't want to. [ Akira pulls away, just a little, to give Akechi a sort of half-smile. It's strange -- that Akira, of all people, has trouble imagining a future in which he gets what he wants; in which he's allowed the kind of things everyone else is.

For all that he seems to have hope for the future, he tries not to imagine what he wants too much. He can see it in his mind -- lazy mornings with the smell of coffee in a small apartment, the sleepy sound of bare skin on sheets, the rustling of paperwork and typing of keys. It feels so natural that it aches inside of him, because he wants it more than anything, and he's afraid that it means that this -- this thing, this one desire that he has -- is just going to be wishing for someone to come in when he was a child having nightmares. ]

So -- can you just let me love you? Just until you can leave. When you can, you can go as far away as you want. But until then.

[Of course not. He knows he doesn't have to take care of Akira, to date him. He's well aware that of anyone on the planet, Akira Kurusu would never force someone to be his anything. So it's just stupid that he states it, that he tells him the things he already knows he will never be made to do. But what Akira doesn't realize is that asking him, asking Akechi Goro to let someone love him is the hardest thing he's ever been asked in his life. He's been asked-- told, really --to kill people, and something as simple as "can you just let me love you?", complete with an out, with a "just until you can leave" is the hardest series of words he's ever had to try and swallow around.]

[So he holds his breath. He holds his breath, and he doesn't inhale or exhale, he just swallows a couple times, shakes in an odd way that's reminiscent of breathing even when he isn't. He shakes his head, just a few times, slowly, at first, and then ducks forward into the space Akira put between them. Akira hasn't been entirely honest with him, either, so he has no understanding that this is all he's ever wanted and really gone for. No concept that it's hard for him to ask for, too. When his lungs burn too much for him to keep air out of them he sucks in a careful, shallow breath, and then it bursts out of him and he just pulls his hands up to his face, twisting Akira's up into them.]

Just until I can leave? How can you-- how can you even.

[It's a pointless gesture to school his breathing the way he is-- sucking in careful breaths, letting them shake on their way out but controlling them so it's never really a sob, because he's getting the ends of their sleeves wet, but it's fine.] If you need someone, how can you be so willing to let them walk away. You've no sense.

I don't want you to walk away. [ Akira's voice cracks in the middle of it, and he looks as surprised as anyone by it, because he can't really remember the last time he cried. Has he ever cry? He remembers going through the trial against him feeling numb; he remembers forcing himself to keep moving. It's the same thing he did when Akechi died -- both times -- he just kept moving, one foot in front of the other, finding a new goal everytime he achieved the old one.

But he doesn't know what to do now. Everyone's taken care of. Everyone's figuring their own lives out, and they're all planning to leave, and he isn't needed. And he's heading home, to a cold, empty house and a school where people are going to hate him, and he wants so many things that he can't have that he feels like he'll die if he doesn't get this one. If he doesn't get Akechi.

If he has to go back to putting one foot in front of the other, day by day, moving forward so that he doesn't let himself think of what he doesn't have. ]

I want you more than I've ever wanted anything, but you've -- you've had people decide things so much for you, I don't want to tell you that I won't let you choose to leave. I can't take that from you.

[ He just wants Akechi to decide it's worth staying with him. ]

I already brought you back.

I can't, if you recall, [He spits, viciously, but his throat is closed up to the size of a soda straw again so the vitriol comes out a little weak. He doesn't really mean it, anyway, and he exhales a shakier breath than he'd like to admit to, dragging Akira's hands forward to sit against his collarbone. He can't look at him. That crack to his voice-- Akira means this, this isn't Joker pulling his leg or Akira smoothing over something flirty with a "just kidding". He's never known the guy to lie, really, but this... was so honest and raw the burning sensation keeping him from taking in a full lungful of air was a lot worse.]

[He scrunches his eyes closed, at you've had people decide things so much for you, at I can't take that from you, folds forward a little more, tugs on Akira's hands against his collarbone, just letting his breath shake. When he opens them again, there's a strange little smattering of wetness on the ground between his feet, like he squeezed grapes. That's about what crying feels like, at this point.] That you want to give me a choice is more than most anyone else has afforded me.

[He releases his hands, then, surprises himself by taking his own and grabbing Akira by the face.] Something I noticed, when I acted as your teammate, [Please ignore the ugly redness to his face, to his eyes, the fact that he is obviously crying and can't really bring himself to care enough to hide it anymore.] You never do anything for yourself. Never. You never claimed anything you found in the Metaverse for yourself-- even weapons suited to you, the others told you to use. You don't... [He shakes his head, rattling Akira's a little between his hands.] You don't know who you are or what you want anymore than I do. So why is this, [He moves his hands, claiming Akira's again and putting them just below his throat, almost like a chokehold,] of all things. Why is this what you decide you want.

[ Akira blinks, and he's surprised and not at the same time to feel the way there's a wet heat on his eyelashes. Akechi was a first for him in a lot of ways, so he's not surprised that it'd be the first time Akira has cried in recent memory, the first time Akira has cried in public since he was an infant.

Akira takes in a breath, slowly; thinks about trying to flash Akechi a smile and brush this all off. It isn't too late.

--but it is, because that isn't fair, so he just steadies himself, looks at the way his fingers splay across Akechi's throat, across his collarbone. He thinks about dying; he thinks about being dead; he thinks about what that means for both of them. ]

...because I know what I am when I'm with you. [ It sounds more and more right, as Akira says it. His fingernails drag across the hollow of Akechi's throat, almost curiously, there in the shade of one of the Yongen-Jaya back alleys, residences towering around them and people passing past the mouth of the street, full of their own lives and their own problems. ]

You never wanted me to be something I wasn't. You just waited to see what I would do. Who I was. Even if I wasn't anything... I wanted to be something for you.

[ When Akira looks back at Akechi's face properly, it's clear that he's only barely on the edge of not crying. It's also clear that he's one of those unfairly pretty criers, whose face gets pink and whose eyes get even bigger. ]

I've never really had a plan for my life. I didn't know -- if I was going to college, or what job I wanted, or anything like that. I was working towards a future because I had nothing better to do.

But, if I think about a future with you -- if I think about working to have a life with you -- then it's something I want to do. Because I like how you laugh, and how you tease me, and the way you look so put out by minor inconveniences, and your commentary on tv shows, and the way you know what all the horrible things in my life feel like without pitying me.

I knew I didn't want to let you down.

Don't... [He pats at Akira's jaw, absently, trying to convince him to not look away, even though it's all he's been doing for hours, probably. When he does, and when he's somehow even more beautiful with his eyes full of tears and his stupid, stupid eyelashes pretty and wet, Akechi thinks he stops breathing again. Knows he does when Akira gives him this whole spiel, things about him he likes.]

[He isn't a pretty crier like Akira is, his whole jaw tensing up, and then his shoulders, and he shakes his head as he lowers it away from him again. Hypocrite, trying to keep Akira from looking away only to do the same immediately again.]

You've never-- God, Kurus-- Akira. [The name is strange on his tongue, and he's not sure he can use it again anytime soon, but he looks up again and this time the tears run tracks down his face instead of dripping onto the ground.] You've never let me down even when it came to me shooting you in the goddamn head.

[But he pulls his hands away from his face anyway, shaking his head and not stepping out from under Akira's hands, but becoming much smaller under them.] ...you just. Have to be lying. My laugh is fake, any teasing was just a failed attempt at actually hurting you, minor inconveniences can be much more major depending on the person, when have I ever commented on TV shows...? [He looks back up, shaking his head for the millionth time.] I can't very well have pitied you, because I've never been anywhere but hiding in your shadow, and if I don't maintain some kind of pride the likelihood of me disintegrating like ashes are outrageously high.

You laugh when you're startled. [ Akira reaches up, tracks his thumb through the tear track on Akechi's cheek. He thinks Akechi is cute when he cries, even if the fact that Akechi is crying makes his stomach knot together like he's dealing with an overdue flu. ]

Sometimes, when you were in Leblanc drinking coffee and I was busy, you'd have this smile on your face like you were at peace. I don't think that was a lie. [ Akira tucks a strand of Akechi's hair behind his ear, smoothing it out automatically, letting the very edge twine through his fingers. ]

You were talking to me about the X-Folders. You like Featherman. Once your shoelace broke and you stared at it like you had no idea what was happening and it was really cute. You're smart. I know you think you aren't, because you cheated as a detective, but you're really smart aside from that.

You were always like a beacon for me. I knew you were lying from the beginning, but you were so interesting... I've never regretted getting to know you.

I think I could spend fifty years with you and still discover new things.

[Even if he was really only the Detective Prince for a little over a year, it still felt like a lifetime. He'd never gotten so much attention, and even if in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't what he wanted, wasn't real attention, wasn't attention to him, but to the him he presented, he really thought no one could see anything else. Not even in the sense that he thought his acting was that good-- it was passable, but he was good at knowing when he was being watched. Akira, somehow... managed to see him when he didn't think he was visible. Looked at him when he wasn't the Detective Prince. Listened.]

[And it's the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced.]

[He can't exactly stop the way his heart crawls steadily into his ears, the way his eyes well up and spill over like a tap left on to fill tiny glasses, but he does manage to stay quiet until Akira says his piece. He doesn't want to, but he's well aware that the moment he stops closing his throat off entirely to tell him to stop he's just going to yell, and probably sob.]

[And he does exactly that, reaching out and putting his hands on Akira's collar bones, this time, and putting his weight there but not quite pushing, and he exclaims without words a few times, sharp little barks of sound that don't sound like his voice even as they bounce off the walls in his head, which he was finding surprisingly empty at this specific moment.]

You were never supposed to-- If you knew I was lying, why... [He pushes him, just a little, and then curls his fingers into his shirt and pulls, instead.] You are the stupidest, most idiotic... You can't-- God, just shut up. [He'll surprise them both when he uses his hands on Akira's shirt to yank him forward and kiss him because at this point, nothing else makes sense.]

[ It's honestly one of the longest speeches Akira has ever given in his life. Most of the time, Akira is content to sit back and listen to other people. He hears their problems and their worries, and he strikes down at the very center of it to help them grow and move past it, without even meaning to do it as well as he does, but they don't usually need speeches.

They don't usually need -- him. Other people need words and confidence and temporary friendship. It isn't as though his bonds with everyone else are temporary, but they're a steady thrum instead of the white hot blaze that Akechi is whenever he thinks about him. Akechi, who doesn't have the things that everyone else has. He doesn't have parents to turn to, teachers, friends, any of it.

But he has Akira. Akira doesn't know if that's enough. He doesn't know if he can be enough for someone, much less someone as white hot as Akechi is, someone who could blot out the sun and Akira might not even notice the sun was gone --

But god, he hopes they can be what each other needs.

Akira doesn't even have to think about it. He goes when he's tugged, and his lips slot against Akechi's entirely too easy, one hand going behind Akechi's neck and the other staying with his fingers splayed at Akechi's throat.

On a literal level, Akechi doesn't taste like anything except the salt of tears, but to Akira, he tastes like everything Akira has needed his entire life and never had a word for. ]

[Akechi doesn't have a lot of positive contact in his life to reference, so he's never considered it something he likes. He likes warmth, and remembers that contact could be warm, somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, but that isn't a place he likes to go intentionally or otherwise. He's no stranger to this specific breed of intimacy-- in that its start was brash and thoughtless, except that this one wasn't because it was the best way to get what he wanted, because there wasn't anything he was trying to get out of the gesture.]

[He doesn't know what to do with Akira reciprocating, even if he knew he would, doesn't know how to handle the way he just relaxes into the hand behind his neck and the other at his throat, splaying his own against Akira's collarbones. He's only just taller, hardly enough to really feel superior, but enough that he can press into him a moment, let his mind go blank enough that he opens his mouth and licks into Akira's like a man starving. He couldn't describe what Akira tasted like if he wanted to, isn't sure he can taste anything at all, anyway, but there's a definite sweetness that Akechi is pretty sure something he's always craved and never allowed himself to taste.]

[He pulls away to breathe, but not far, and almost goes back in, but stops in favor of catching his breath while it mingles with Akira's between them.]

[ Akira doesn't chase the contact once it's gone, but only because he has enough of a brain cell to register, distantly, that making out in public -- even if they're reasonably secluded -- is not exactly what either of them should be doing right now. The knowledge isn't enough to make him actually be willing to move himself, though; he just inhales slowly when Akechi pulls back, lets his eyes flicker up to meet Akechi's. There's a warm flush across Akira's cheeks, mixing in with the way his eyes are red at just the corners, but when he looks at Akechi a smile tugs his lips up, meets his eyes. It's not quite his normal smile -- it's almost shy, like it's a private thing he's willing to show only to Akechi, like he isn't hiding behind anything or forcing anything.

The only thing that Akira can think is that he'd lied: he isn't willing to let Akechi go at all. He'll do everything in his power to keep Akechi near him, to convince him to stay, to convince him to let Akira orbit him like Akechi is the sun and Akira is helplessly caught in his gravity.

Akira leans back in again, but this kiss is short and chaste. He doesn't let himself get carried away, just pulls back after a moment. ]

We should go inside. [ It's not a proposition or anything sexy -- he absolutely knows that Akechi is nowhere near ready to have sex, even if he might like him, all teasing inside -- it's just that technically speaking the longer they make out in an alley the higher the chances of a grandmother hanging up her laundry is to catch them. ]

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