stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

You could apologize. [ Akira would accept it, which probably makes it all worse. ]

You probably want me to throw it back at you, though.

[He considers him for a long time in silence, then, and visibly gets lost in his own head for a while after, because he has to look away and then curls away from him entirely, rolling onto his other side and perching carefully on the edge of the futon.]

I think I always wanted you all to just discard me, because it was easier. It's just been difficult to say, because there had always been the chance if I said it, you might agree.

I'll never discard you. [ It's soft and fond and it's absolutely a promise that he shouldn't make so lightly, but after everything, does it count as light? He's so serious about it, even if he doesn't sound it. ]

I think it feels easier when people are angry at you. [ Akechi was furious with him for most of January, but it was something, and Akira had held onto that feeling so intensely -- ]

It means they're thinking of you.

You are top of the list of those who should.

[He's quiet again for a while, just... trying to regulate himself. He's known for a while now that Akira wouldn't discard him, even if he tried to make him, but hearing it still feels like a solid punch to his stomach. There are so many things he's been told, verbally, that he's wanted to hear from someone-- anyone for so long, he doesn't know how to compartmentalize it actually happening. He climbs out of his head for a while and just sort of exists, focused on keeping his breathing even, until he rolls onto his back and reaches sideways to tangle one of his hands in Akira's again.]

...you're an absolute fool, and I'm the luckiest dead man alive to have somehow caught your interest.

We can be the luckiest dead men together, then. [ Akira knows that maybe making jokes about him being "dead" when Akechi is clearly so torn up over that entire thing is not the wisest idea, but also, it feels appropriate, for them to have this shared black humor that permeates their relationship.

Akira rolls slightly, leans in to press his lips to Akechi's forehead again. It's nice, to be allowed this; it's nice, to sense the change as Akechi slowly opens up and allows himself to receive affection. Akira thinks they've both been touch starved for a long time, in a lot of ways, but they both took it very differently. ]

I'm sorry, [He says it suddenly, because he doesn't want to talk himself out of it. Lets it escape his lips a little too loudly while Akira is hovered over him, lips to his forehead, and reaches over to grab his collar so he stays there.] I'm-- I didn't want. I don't know what I wanted, but it wasn't that. I convinced myself it was the right thing, because I'd been planning it so long, but I am, I really am sorry.

[Oh. He's, he's upset again. Whoops.]

I know. I know. [ Akira stays there, hovers there with his lips still pressed lightly against skin, with his nose still just above Akechi's hair. He reaches out, and the hug is awkward with how they've wound up positioned but he doesn't care. ]

I forgive you. I love you anyway. [ Akira thinks -- it's what he wanted to hear, from everyone around him, when the world turned against him instead for a crime he hadn't committed, so he thinks it must be what Akechi must want to hear. What he needs to hear.

Akechi's crimes are overwhelming and far, far greater than anything Akira has ever done, and maybe Akira doesn't have the kind of power needed to forgive him, but he'll do it anyway. ]

I'm not going to leave you.

[He makes a very small sound, releasing Akira's hand and then his collar in favor of putting his hands on his face, pushing him away to look at him, tracing his hands up his cheekbones and threading his hands into his hair. He presses both of his thumbs gently in the very center of his forehead.]

I think-- I think I wanted things to be different, after that, but it was too late. It's always been too late. You shouldn't forgive me, or-- or any of it. Why do you always do that? [He sort of doesn't seem to realize he's actually talking to Akira.]

It's not too late. [ It's easier, to sound calm, when they're not discussing Akira's own trauma -- but it's still a lot, and he tightens his grip on Akechi without even realizing he's doing it. They're both alive, they're both okay -- by some definitions -- they're both going to make it. ]

It's not too late for either of us. We're both still here, so -- so -- [ And then Akira falters, and he doesn't know what to say to make this better, he doesn't know how to fix anything, not really, so he just holds onto Akechi instead, tries to transmit as much as he can through the feeling. ]

Just stay with me.

It's always been too late for me, Akira. [He repeats it, uses his name like he thinks he asked, moves his thumbs on his forehead and closes his eyes, trying to curl back in on himself again. He doesn't break out of Akira's contact, and after a while he shifts his hands to rest behind his jaw, but he still won't look at him.] Always.

[But he's not trying to get up. He's staying. Even if he really can't leave, anyway.]

I was scared. [ If they're doing this whole sharing thing, then the least Akira can do -- ]

I stumbled into becoming a Phantom Thief, and I stumbled into being the leader, and then I was the one you would have killed if anything had gone wrong. And I was scared, and I couldn't tell anyone, and I thought --

I almost blew the whole plan because I wanted to try to convince you then. I don't think I could have, but even then. Even now. I wanted to save you however I could. [ Even if it meant dying.

It hadn't.

He thinks that in the end, the plan saved both their lives in a few different ways. ]

[He's not... crying, really, his eyes are dry, but between the way he's shaking and the way he can't breathe right he may as well be. He heaves an odd sort of sound and pushes at him, pushes until he rolls him off of him and follows, sitting beside him and over him, fingertips pressed into his shoulders like he wants to pin him down but can't quite bear more contact.]

Convince me of what? If you knew I wouldn't listen-- because I wouldn't, I still don't know how to listen. Don't-- if you were scared why didn't you get rid of me?? [He's not entirely understanding what Akira is saying.]

Convince you that I liked you. That I wanted you. That I'd find a way out -- that we'd fight Shido ourselves, that we'd help you, that we'd do whatever you needed. I was scared that I'd die and you'd be alone and--

And you'd hate yourself for it and there wouldn't be anyone to stop you. [ There wouldn't be Akira; there wouldn't be the Phantom Thieves; there wouldn't be anything. And then Shido would probably have killed Akechi, and it would have all been for nothing, and it aches to think about, to think about Akechi alone in that kind of a world, even if it was because of his own deeds.

Akira lays underneath him, almost listless until he reaches up, until he pushes his hands through Akechi's hair and then grips on it, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep him in place. ]

I was scared of dying, and I was scared of leaving you, and I was scared of how helpless I felt. [ Of how helpless Akechi must have felt, even if he wouldn't admit it. ]

[He never handles sincerity well. Maybe that's why he's always been so weak to Akira. He takes a handful of short little breaths, holds them, swallows them almost, flinches at each point Akira makes, bunches inward with every statement. His hands splay and lay flat, and his fingers slowly curl at his shoulders until he's gathered a bit of his shirt in each hand, and for the first time he really tries to hear him.]

[It doesn't work as well as he thinks it should, maybe, but he's staying put and allowing Akira's hands in his hair to ground him.] I already hate myself, [He's quiet and almost deadpan about it, but manages a slight laugh.] It..., you never should have worried for your own life because of me. You should worry about your own life because you want to live.

[ Akira is quiet for a long moment, because the conversation is churning up thoughts that he's tried not to think. Thoughts that he's never voiced outloud, because he was afraid it would give them too much power. ]

Before... Tokyo. I thought... I didn't think anyone would miss me. And if there wasn't anyone that would miss me, and if there wasn't anything that I cared about, then -- [ Then was he even really alive at all?

He wonders, sometimes, if he hadn't tried to save that woman, what would have happened? Would he have just continued on, in that lonely house, in that school where no one really wanted to know him past his appearance, in that small town? ]

But I wanted you. I wanted to help you. I wanted--

[ And then it clicks, suddenly, and Akira lets out an exhale, slow and steady,trying to stabilize himself, trying to catch on the parts that he normally only thinks about when he's up too late and the darkness presses in on him like flies buzzing inside of his skull. ]

I wanted to save you, so you could save me. So that we wouldn't be alone anymore.

[ Akira laughs, a little, which doesn't quite match up with the look on his face at all. ]

You thought I'd hate you because you think you're rotten inside, but I thought you'd be bored of me when you realized I'm empty inside.

[Akechi thought it would take forever for him to understand Akira's construct of love. That he would never really get it, that he'd just tolerate it, give in to his own loneliness enough to let him have his affection sometimes. He didn't really think he was capable of love, anymore. Not of receiving it, certainly not of giving it. Akira was right when he said he thought he was rotten inside, because he was-- he felt like the flesh of a rotten peach, beneath the hardened skin he'd built up through his teenage years, through stomaching working for Shido. Too soft, it gave way too easily to anything, and you couldn't even eat it anymore, and the smell--]

[But as Akira exhales, slow and steady as he does, as he continues-- he wanted to save Akechi, so Akechi could save him --Akechi inhales, and a bit of the rotten, sickly-sweet flesh around his heart throbs. He realizes he was just lying to himself, again. He never had to suss out the details or cross-reference any notes, because he already understood, he just wasn't allowing himself to see it.]

[One of his hands unfolds from around the fabric of Akira's shirt at his shoulder, travels downward, and splays directly over his heart. He can't really tell if he's smiling or just grimacing-- it could be either, but he can't see straight anymore, anyway, closing his eyes around the easiest tears he's ever cried in his life.]

You-- really are a fool. You aren't empty, Akira. You're just too full of what everyone else wants, you took this long to decide what you wanted. Or-- at least, to admit it to yourself. [As he says it, he realizes he's saying the same words to himself, and it's a bizarre sort of epiphany. He's not really rotten, he's just rotting, because he's let himself ignore what he's wanted for so long, the same as Akira has. Except Akira just hollowed, because at least he knew, he just couldn't act, whereas Akechi rotted, because he was the poison destroying them both.]

Stay still.

[He leans forward and kisses him again, and it's a lot less desperate than it was in the alley.]

[ Akira feels empty, most days. It's different when he's around people, but he thinks that might be worse, sometimes, the way he changes to fit the situation and the relationship, the way he can remember a thousand details about his friends but offers up so little of himself. They never pry into it, never pry into him, and he --

He wishes they had, maybe.

Akira doesn't move when Akechi kisses him, just lets the buzzing off his mind slowly settle back down into a dull roar so he can focus on the moment, on the feel of Akechi's lips on his. His hands are still in Akechi's hair, and he looses his grip, nails scraping through Akechi's scalp as he contemplates the merits of never letting him go again.

Akira has wanted nebulous, vague things; concepts more than anything else, for most of his life. A family like the ones he could read about in manga. A relationship like he saw reflected in other people. He'd built on it in Tokyo, built up from the ground, built friends that fought for him when he was in jail, that believed in him, that trusted him, that knew him as deeply as he'd allowed.

But wanting Akechi is different entirely, because it's like a lightning strike inside of him that jerks his focus onto Akechi whenever he's nearby. It fills up all the parts of Akira that Akira thought were only ever going to reflect what others needed, and Akechi --

Akechi was still there.

Something in Akira relaxes, just a little. ]

[Akira feels like a fever, Akechi decides. He's heat and he's disorientation, makes the tips of his fingers feel numb and the bends of his elbows sweat, and he doesn't think he likes it all that much, but he can adjust. He thinks.]

[So he keeps kissing him, slowly easing to lay down alongside him, slotted to him and perched up on his chest, letting his hands wander their way up into his hair and trace patterns into his scalp. Akira's fingernails against his own elicit a soft sort of rumble of sound, because that feels strangely pleasant, and he draws away a moment later because his lips have gone numb, he thinks.]

[He's still crying, a little, but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel like the horrible dam-breaking pressure release it does when he gets too tangled up in himself, it's just... Tears. And he only notices because he's gotten Akira's face damp, and as he licks them his lips taste like salt, but only dully. They mostly taste like Akira, and he can't really determine just what Akira tastes like, yet, but he likes it.]

You aren't empty.

...Not when I'm with you. [ Maybe not ever, but just like it's a slow sort of descent for Akechi to allow the idea of someone loving him, it's the same thing for Akira. It would be nice to do it in leaps and bounds, but he's found that it's rarely ever that simple -- which is unfortunate, but that seems to be how these things work. He learned enough about therapy to know that you'll make as many losses as you will gains with this sort of thing.

For a moment, Akira's genuinely not sure which one of them is crying, because it feels like it could have been him. It might have been him contributing to it, but it's more apparent on Akechi, so he just reaches up to wipe underneath Akechi's eye, to think about the amount of concealer he's going to have to use if he wants to look at all presentable tomorrow.

Maybe they can stay in all day. ]

You'll make me feel less empty, and I'll make you feel wanted. Maybe that's how it works. [ Akira sounds almost distant, because he's really very new to this whole relationship thing that they're both not quite sure they're doing yet. ]

[He's going to look like a puffer fish tomorrow, he is not leaving this attic unless it's in sunglasses and a hat, and he's reasonably sure they have neither. He would suggest one of Sojiro's, but not only would he look horrendous in a fedora, he doesn't want to have that discussion even a little.]

[He purses his lips and then tsks softly, sighing and settling down to lay on Akira's chest again, grumbling softly. Ineffectually. He shifts, craning himself at an angle to kiss the line of Akira's jaw, absently.]

I think we've both broken how anything is supposed to work, at this juncture.

[ Akira leans into the attention like a very large cat, wrapping his arms around Akechi a little more securely than he needs to. No, that's a lie -- he does need to, right now, more than anything. He can't keep pretending otherwise. He's pretty sure Akechi will punch him next time. ]

Then we'll remake it. Better. Stronger. Uh... Smarter. [ Something like that, anyway. Whatever they break, they'll repair in their own way, because Akira thinks they might both already be broken, and they're being repaired like a favorite cup, repurposed instead of replaced. ]

[Akechi allows it-- he veered to the side of overstimulated a bit, before, but he's starting to realize that sometimes his disinterest in being touched is more due to the intensity of the roar in his brain than his actual distaste for contact. Akira, at least, is pretty consistently an acceptable form of affection.]

[It helps that he gives off enough heat for like six people, he thinks.]

[A snort, and he rolls his eyes, jabbing Akira in the chest with his chin.] It is not necessary to punctuate every difficult moment with your stupid humor, you realize.

It's not necessary, but it's fun. [ And familiar in a way that doesn't make Akira feel like he's smothering in the intensity of his own emotions, which -- not great. Definitely understands why Akechi keeps crying. As much as Akira wants to wade through all of Akechi's issues and fix them, he knows it's not that easy, and moreover he knows that now that Akechi knows about Akira's issues --

Well, turnabout's fair play. ]

Huh. We were supposed to be watching things again. [ Akira is starting to think he'll never finish this season of the X-Folders. ]

Your sense of humor is beyond me.

[But he allows it, because he's registered that it's a defense mechanism. He won't always put up with it, but they've both had a rough day. He shifts, rolling onto his back but staying close enough to be touching, squinting.]

...can I make a request, first?

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1/2 because, reasons.

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