stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[He is Almost Eighteen let him buy you cancer sticks, sir.]

[Cancer Sticks delivered, Akechi makes his way back toward Akira, and doesn't quite get there before a sudden wave of very acute exhaustion leads him to stagger sideways into a bar chair three shy of where he'd left his bags of snacks. He isn't entirely aware of what's happened until he's braced between the bar and the chair itself, and he carefully arranges himself to sit like he'd meant to do it the whole time, despite the absolutely hoodwinked look on his face.]

--Goro? [ It slips out before Akira can stop it, sounding deeply concerned. He steps over automatically, hovering slightly with his hand floating just behind Akechi's back. Even Sojiro looks a little concerned, mid-lighting a new cigarette and paused on an inhale to watch carefully. ]

Are you-- okay?

[He's spent most of the last two days in some degree of tired or exhausted, but this... This is new in a somewhat frightening way. He's suddenly so tired he's dizzy, and Lavenza's voice echoes in his head. "The effects are quite detrimental," she said said. Were these those detrimental effects? After barely two hours, and within the same city? After he'd spent the whole night tangled up in Akira's grasp, sure that it would "charge" him to a sufficient degree for-- for something--]

[He reaches out and grasps Akira's forearm with an ugly, gurgled little sound, forcing himself out of the chair. He shakes, but is determined to stand, and he can immediately feel a difference just from touching him. It's frustrating in a way that makes him want to let go, makes him want to push Akira away and run, even knowing he wouldn't make it to the door in a remotely straight line and Akira would stop him. So he just scowls, gritting his teeth and gripping Akira's arm tightly enough it probably hurts, and grinds out words in a clipped, thin tone.] I'm fine. Sorry to worry you.

Boss, I'm going to take a break. [ Sojiro gives a flippant "yeah, sure" and waves them off, but there's a thin line of concern in his brow that gives way to how weighty it is. Akira wraps his arm around Akechi's waist, headless of the fact that Sojiro can see them. It's an emergency! Kind of. ]

Let's go upstairs.

[He's embarrassed. He's shamefully embarrassed, that Sojiro sees him like this, that Sojiro sees Akira reach for him. It's worse because he knows he can't push him away and get to the stairs on his own, and he warbles an almost plaintive repeat of "I'm fine", but his vision spots and his knees choose to buckle, pitching him forward so that he crumples into Akira's grasp.]

[He actually snarls, bracing himself on Akira in order to force his legs back under him, but he doesn't want to make any more of a fool of himself by throwing a rage-fueled tantrum in the middle of the cafe, so it stops there. He loops an arm over Akira's shoulders and seethes, splaying his free hand in front of him.] Wait, just-- let me get my bearings. [The absolute last thing he needs is to just fucking faint like a damsel.]

[ Sojiro, for his part, is studiously observing his crossword as Akira hovers there. His instinct is to wrap his arms around Akechi, but that would only make the situation worse right now, so Akira hesitates for only a second before he reaches down to take one of Akechi's hands in his. It's a single point of contact, but it should be enough, probably, to get him upstairs. ]

I guess that was too far...? [ Or too long, one of the two. Akira's definitely not going to be able to go to an entire schoolday like this, but -- at least half a day, if they keep Akechi nearby... He'll figure it out. ]

[The skin-to-skin contact is worlds more effective than just his arm around his shoulders, Akira's around his waist, and Akechi sways from the abrupt flood of... He isn't even sure what to call it. Warmth? Sensation? Now that he thinks about it, his extremities had started to go kind of numb.]

[He lurches them forward, trying to drag Akira toward the stairs with him, making little more than a disgruntled mumbling bark of sound that if you squint, could easily have been profane. He tries again a moment later.] Shut up.

[ Akira follows, easily, too worried about Akechi to really do more but tag along behind him as they head upstairs. He does steer Akechi to the bed, once they hit the landing, running a hand across Akechi's upper arm. ]

You're freezing. [ Akira can't believe he didn't notice earlier. Akechi was apparently just so focused on laundry that it didn't leave any room for anything else. ]

[With Akira steering him to the bed, Akechi can easily drop to sit and drag the other down with him, immediately curling close to him. He's still seething, but the action is significantly less intimidating by the way his whole body shakes, teeth even chattering briefly.]

I didn't realize anything was wrong until I got back. I made it up here and back just fine... [His voice is shaking almost as badly as the rest of him, but he's pretty clearly incandescent.]

[ Akira grabs the blanket to tuck around them both, even knowing that it's a bit of a lost cause since it's the bodily contact that seems to be helping more than anything. ]

You were gone for around two hours... We'll see how long it takes to get back to normal and go from there. [ Akira's thinking about it clinically, because he doesn't think Akechi wants him to be soft about it. Which -- Akira's trying, but he still runs his fingertips up Akechi's arm, soothingly. ]

Does skin to skin help more?

Shut up-- [He spits the words, climbing wholesale into Akira's lap by way of perching on one of his thighs, knees between Akira's, and hooking his feet around one of his ankles so he can press his face against Akira's throat-- he's warmest, there. It also probably answers his question, and if it doesn't Akechi's subsequent motion to shove Akira's hand under the sleeve of his hoodie against his arm should.]

[ Akira shuts up, which is shockingly easy for him to do when he's not really that much of a chatterbox to begin with. He slips his other hand under the back of the hoodie, splaying on the flat of Akechi's back, on the skin there that isn't nearly as warm as it should be. It's too intimate, too much, too fast, but he can feel Akechi's unsteadiness start to bleed out quickly enough at the contact.

Akira feels the urge to apologize and swallows it down; what's he supposed to say? Sorry I brought you back to life? Sorry you're stuck touching me when you're not entirely sure you like me?

It'd be hollow. Akira hopes this is over soon, though -- he wants Akechi to be touching him of his own free will. ]

[He sucks in a sharp, startled breath at the hand splayed against his back, his spine bowing inward at that hand, and-- sorry, Akira, try not to pop a boner over the absolute mewl of sound he made, okay? You'll both fare better. His anger is doused by the sensation, and he squirms until he's pressed flush against Akira's chest, grumbling but absolutely shivering less the longer they're touching.] This is so frustrating-- [His voice is a squashed, thin whine, entirely too close to Akira's ear.]

[ Something in Akira short-circuits entirely at the sheer combination of sound and contact that Akechi is making right now. He enters a vague dissociative state through the simple power of refusing to get hard right now, it'd just set them both back, oh god, think about infiltrating things with Joker.

He idly sets his brain to pretending to lay out plans for how he'd break into some of the nearby stores, if he were so inclined, while trying and failing not to memorize exactly how Akechi's breath feels on his neck, the noises he makes and the way he's trembling in Akira's grasp. ]

Yeah. [ Akira agrees, because -- yeah, you have no idea, Akechi. ]

[Akira stop being horny for two seconds challenge-- absolutely failed. In all fairness, Akechi would probably apologize for the squirming and the gasping if he were any more aware of himself, right then.]

[He buries his face against the column of Akira's throat, probably only making the breathing against him aspect of it all much worse. He feels hypothermic, now that he's been made aware of how cold he is, and Akira feels like a fever, and he's never wanted to feel hot so terribly in his life.] I'm-- sorry, you're working, you don't have time for this. [Which is precisely why he's shifting his arm so Akira's hand slides farther up his sleeve, his other arm having curled around his back and tangling into a fist around the fabric of his shirt.]

[A thought occurs to him, and he hates it, but if he has any interest in getting Akira out of the attic and back to work so he can be angry and frustrated and lingeringly cold on his own, it's probably the quickest way. He tips his head to rest against Akira's shoulder, his shuddering mostly subsiding, but his eyes are still unfocused and his extremities are only half as warm as they ought to be.] I-- Kurusu, I hate asking this, but-- kiss me.

[ Akira does. He almost does it without thinking, and he hates that this is the reason Akechi is asking him to kiss him but he isn't going to complain about it right now. He leans in, kissing Akechi as hard as he possibly can. He uses that hand as leverage, pressing in on Akechi's back to force them closer together, reaching his other hand out of Akechi's sleeve to bracket his face, to hold onto him.

If he shifts just so, maybe he'll manage to get through this without Akechi noticing that he's definitely more interested in his sick boyfriend demanding makeouts in his lap than he probably should be. It's not Akira's fault he's a healthy teenager who has not had sex with another human being in months.

God.

Akechi is cool under Akira's skin but getting warmer, the shaking stopping underneath his touch, underneath his kiss. Even inside his mouth is cold like a fever chill, the taste of iron much more prominent than it would be normally. ]</small?

[His own arms shift so they're both around Akira's neck, and he lets Akira kiss him however he will, dissolving under his touch. He can feel his fingers again, now, heat slowly flooding his body like someone is pouring molten molasses into him, that someone being Akira Kurusu. He's not squirming anymore, at least, so Akira is free to rearrange them in whatever way best suits hiding his interest, but when he pulls away to breathe because even that was harder right now, he stays close and bumps their noses together.]

I can't have this happening, I'd have preferred walking into invisible walls... [He angles his head like he's considering kissing him again himself, but he's warm enough, now. He can feel his limbs, his extremities, even if his heartbeat is erratic and loud and his tongue his numb for a whole different reason.]

Y... yeah. [ Akira's response is a little delayed because he's a little dazed with the sheer overpowering gate of want that just unfurled over the past ninety seconds of his life. He'd been doing pretty well, he thought, about not letting things move too fast, not trying to rush Akechi into anything --

And now he's on the verge of ruining all of it because the entirety of his being is screaming that they need to kiss again, that they need to do more.

His hand on Akechi's back moves, holds onto his waist, a little too tightly. ]

This is bad. [ Akechi being sick or the fact that Akira is going to die of blue balls? It's hard to say. Both. ]

[Luckily, or perhaps not so much for Akira, Akechi is generally relatively intelligent. Even hazed as he is, he has a pretty distinct concept of Akira's State, giving him a careful once-over before settling forward against his collarbone.]

The fact that I'm incapable of doing laundry or the fact that you don't want to go back to work?

You're-- I'm-- [ Akira presses his face into Akechi's shoulder and breathes in, slowly, but Akechi smells good -- Akechi smells like Akira, which is awakening some possessive part of Akira that he didn't know was inside of him waiting to go fucking feral -- and it doesn't actually help. ]

You're really hot. [ Incandescently hot, unfairly attractive, deeply erotic, all sorts of synonyms for "Akira Kurusu is Fucked But Not In The Way He Wants" ]

[He laughs softly, curling his arms upward to scritch gently at Akira's scalp.] Still a little cold, actually.

[He breathes in carefully, trying to encourage Akira to take a similarly steadying breath.] I shouldn't have asked that of you when you have to return to work. I..., your schedule. Let me know days you work, and I won't go anywhere to avoid anything like this happening again. [Which he hates-- the taste of freedom was so sweet until he crashed so hard he nearly passed out, and now he's perched in Akira's lap trying to talk him down from popping a boner when he's on the clock. He'd tease, but he's worn out (again), and he doesn't want Akira to just knock him over and pin him down anyway.]

It's... I was only working because I wasn't at school. It's not -- I can take whatever days off. [ Sojiro doesn't care, nor does he need the help; Akira is industrious enough helping clean that Sojiro's had less and less to do, anyway. Akira leans into the touch on his scalp, his breathing still a little shaky.

He doesn't know how he's going to manage school if he comes back to an Akechi like this that he can't pin down afterwards, god. He's going to die. Akechi really is going to be the death of him. ]

Well I can't very well go letting you do the things you'd like with the cafe open. [His tone is apologetic, despite its dismissal, and he rearranges himself again so he isn't in Akira's lap, just leaning sideways against him. His mind is working, albeit sluggishly, trying to come up with a solution. He doesn't want to keep Akira from being able to go to school, but he pretty clearly can't be much distance from him without... this. He doesn't especially want Akira to come home from school to find him half-dead and made of ice, but Shujin isn't in a location that would be especially easy to linger near... He doesn't want to go with the thought of being treated as his parole officer, either, and trying to sneak into the school to hide out in the library doesn't seem ideal, either.]

[He wishes there was an easy way to contact Lavenza, independently, so he could pick her brain. She'd said they were to be coming to an "understanding", and while he could make a guess as to what that could entail, he didn't want to go making assumptions. He wasn't... really ready for what was likely involved in reaching an "understanding" with Akira Kurusu, and it seemed too many steps backward to try and not be able to handle it.]

[He keeps his gaze at chest-level, pointedly.] Will you be all right to return, or should I act as though I'm still dying dramatically so you don't have to? [He's not sure what good it would do if Akira stayed-- it wasn't like it would be much easier for him to handle a problem in the same room as Akechi, it was like dangling a carrot in front of a hungry rabbit.]

[ Akira tightens his grip on Akechi a little when Akechi shifts off of him, seemingly unwilling to move from how he's wound up partially burrowed into Akechi. He just takes another breath, slow and steadying. It's easier to think now that Akechi isn't moving, isn't squirming and desperate on his lap making those little frustrated noises--

God, because Akira's fantasies weren't detailed enough already. It's not even like he particularly wants to rush the relationship into sex already (though he wouldn't exactly say no, either), it's just -- teenage boy. Hormones. Deeply attracted to other boy. ]

I'll stay here for a little longer. [ He's going to hold onto Akechi until Akechi starts to get antsy, more than likely; the contact is nice and reassuring, and the steadiness of it is helping ebb away that desperate arousal and worry combination. ]

Okay, [He mumbles, not as bothered by the continued contact as he could be. He's warm enough that he isn't shaking, anymore, for the most part, but he knows the longer he's touching Akira the better that will get, the longer he'll be able to function without him, even if he's pretty sure he's not going back downstairs for a while and will probably pass out asleep until Sae comes by. God, he feels like he's actually unwell, like this is some kind of illness, and in some ways, it is-- except the only means to cure it is some kind of bizarrely abstract concept of "understanding".]

[He grunts softly, stretching upward to put his face in Akira's neck again.] ...when Lavenza said we had to come to an "understanding"... You're the one that willed me back alive, what is it you want me to understand?

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uses a sexy icon just to be rude

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akira is so fucked rdfnjkbgfmn

akira kurusu chooses death

RIP

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