stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[He thinks he's always done it, in some form-- even the Detective Prince had a few nervous tics, they were just usually in the form of him bouncing his leg crossed over the other, in time with moments he was made to consider how he was answering a question, or specifically done with his hands folded together in his lap so no one could tell he was tapping his thumb against the first joint of his opposite one, either in time to a clock ticking or at a specific point in the far too many sentences running through his brain. No one ever really paid much attention to anything but his face, as the Detective Prince, anyway, which was why he got so good at keeping that impassive and approachable.]

[Not that any of it matters anymore. Akira could probably always see through him, the spook, and he's an exhumed corpse these days so what he looks like isn't much of a priority.]

[Either way, he doesn't pull away from the hand, mostly because he's still wearing gloves, so there's some degree of separation.] ...mmn.

Why'd you start wearing gloves? [ Akira asks, so calmly that it almost sounds rhetorical. It isn't. Akira thinks he knows the answer, but he wants to hear it from Akechi's own mouth, thinks it's better in Akechi's words. He rubs his finger across the leather of Akechi's hand, glancing over at him as he pulls him along Akira's own route through the park at a leisurely pace.

It's a little surreal, with the lights and the stars above them and the quiet sounds of the night -- the roadway, far away; the bugs; the trees.

It'd be romantic, if they weren't both kind of messes. ]

...I already told you I don't like being touched, [It's not really an answer, but it's all he feels like supplying, right then. A moment later, he grins.] Plus, it makes it easier to not leave fingerprints when you shoot people in the head. [He pinches one of Akira's fingers moreso than he squeezes it.]

[He's glad for the quiet ambiance, the lack of bustle and noise of the city. He'd be lying if he said he didn't crave space more than living within the metropolitan area of Tokyo gave him.]

I'm glad you seem to mind when I touch you less. [ Akira gives him a smile. Akira knows Akechi would say that Akira isn't special, but -- Akira's starting to think that maybe he is, for Akechi, a little bit special like Akechi is to him, and the idea fills him with an anxious thrill like sending a calling card.

He's never wanted something so badly before. ]

I always thought it was funny that we wore gloves in the Metaverse when no one could dust for fingerprints anyway.

[His grin immediately becomes him rolling his eyes, shaking his head.] Did you forget the part where touching you is now required for me to be alive? I don't especially want to die a third time.

[He wrinkles his nose.] With the color of yours, I'd say it was mostly for show, anyway. I can't really speak on the matter, since I went from looking like something out of a sick fairy tale to looking like a child's halloween costume of the monster under their bed. [Which possibly isn't too far from the truth, with Black Mask.]

I thought you looked handsome. [ Akira does not elaborate on which costume he found attractive, because he enjoyed them both in very different ways, and wanted to do very different things to Akechi based on costume. He wanted to undo Robin Hood; he wanted to ruin Loki.

Sometimes he really wonders how Akechi is the unhinged murderer and Akira is the apparently normal one when Akira appears to have had significantly more r-rated fantasies that go well into the spectrum of incredibly fucked up, but he doesn't give it too much thought, because he feels like he won't like the answer. (Akechi would vehemently deny the mere idea that Akira might be more fucked up than Akechi, which. Fair.) ]

[At least most of Akira's R-Rated fantasies are sexual in nature and don't involve the visceral murder of his father.]

[He doesn't bother responding to his comment, though, just making an irritated sound at it and pinching his finger again, lapsing into silence he's surprised to find companionable. He never minded silence, nor was he typically the type to fill silence with words when he was bothered by it, but if at any point prior to their current situation he had been presented with the idea of wandering through a park after dark with Akira Kurusu and finding silence shared between them companionable, he probably would have laughed.]

[So it takes him a moment to shift the conversation away again.] ...do you pass through this park often?

[ Akira is not above fantasies involving murdering Shido specifically and then fucking on his grave. Don't be fooled by the glasses. ]>

Not that often. It's a little out of the way. I didn't want to draw any attention, for a long time, and after I got out of jail, it felt--

[ He wasn't used to it, that's all. He didn't want to roam and think about Akechi; think about being in prison; think about going home. He didn't want to think. So he drowned out the noise with the coffee grinder at Leblanc. ]

[Please do you both an enormous favor and never share that particular fantasy with Akechi, Akira. Holy shit.]

[This time, he pulls on his finger rather than pinches it, slowing until he stops walking and keeps his thumb and forefinger grasped onto just Akira's index finger.] It felt? I've divulged a great deluge of emotional garbage on you in the last 48-hours, I owe it to you to listen to at least some of yours.

Lonely. Loud. I was so used to being with people... [ He won't admit that he would rehearse speeches to himself, things he could have said to Akechi to have changed his mind, changed his heart. He thought about them and chased himself in circles and never went anywhere because he never knew if any of them would work.

He forgets them all the second Akechi actually looks at him, though, so apparently the rehearsals didn't matter in the face of Akechi actually coming back to life. ]

It was easier for me, if I stayed busy.

[He pulls a little on his finger again, but then releases it and strides past him, letting his hand trail behind him in a clear invitation for Akira to reclaim his fingers if he wants.] That's like you. Distract yourself from your stress, focus on outside stimuli.

I would apologize for contributing to your stress, but I'm still not convinced it could have gone any other way.

I think it had to go this way. That doesn't make it any easier. [ It didn't have to go this way, really -- but it did, based on so many things. To prevent the way things happened would have needed to start years and years prior.

Akira imagines Akechi thinks it should have started with never being born; Akira thinks they both should have been born to different families. He thinks about being Sojiro's actual son, sometimes. It might have been nice.

He does reclaim Akechi's hand, after a moment, letting Akechi take the lead on the path in the park. ]

I'm only good at keeping my own company if I'm busy.

[He has enough of a sense of direction to loop them through the path, not that it's hard with it being circular, but his fingers idly twine in Akira's as they walk, even if he chooses not to look at him or their joined hands.]

[And he's right to assume Akechi would assume the best of endings being one where he wasn't born-- where his mother never met Masayoshi Shido, and was able to live out a long, healthy life full of joy and perhaps a less cursed child. One who wasn't illegitimate, who wasn't a bastard born of a bastard. Quietly, though, he'd hope that that ending also allowed for Akira to live a better life, with better parents of his own. Wakaba Isshiki would live, maybe even seriously be together with Sojiro, Futaba having a quirky little family that suited her better than being orphaned like him.]

[Sometimes he wondered, about that. If Futaba had any idea who her father was. Most of the time he didn't want to think about it.]

[Being that he would never be born, he would never meet Akira, and that though strikes strangely melancholic, but he never was good at differentiating what he should and even could properly want, let alone what he should strive for. His fingers tighten idly around Akira's.]

We're similar in that regard.

We're similar in a lot of ways. [ Akira knows Akechi doesn't want to admit it -- wants to think that Akira is better and Akechi is worse -- but it's true. Akira thinks that's why he was so drawn to Akechi to begin with, all Metaverse facts aside. Akira thinks he could have been just as bad as Akechi, if the circumstances had been different.

He thinks about it, sometimes. For awhile he really almost considered it, sinking to Akechi's level, out of a twisted romantic notion that would never work in real life. It was nice to imagine, when he was aimlessly angry about their situation, when he wanted to feel something break under his own grip.

Akira, of course, usually got over that feeling. ]

[He absolutely refuses to admit that, in fact. He's aware of it-- they're both similar or exact opposites in just about every easily thought of set of traits, right down to their swapped dominant hands. It bothers him, sometimes, but it is what it is. There are days he's terrified of how perfect Akira is, how he is a being crafted from marble and covered in gold foil to be the embodiment of perfect opposition, how their differences and their similarities make them fit together like puzzle pieces, and it does little more than set his nerves on fire like frayed wires.]

[He makes a noncommittal grunt of a sound, continuing to refuse to acknowledge the similarities, and takes to rubbing the pad of his thumb against one of Akira's knuckles in lieu of tapping his fingers together.]

[ Akira takes Akechi's silence and holds onto it for a long moment-- and then, idly, continues to talk; it seemed to work before, after all. His voice is a little quieter now, because it's later, because speaking too loudly in the calm of the park feels too much like invading somewhere sacred, but it's easy to talk about.

As before, it's about his friends, though a little more expansive: he mentions Ryuji and the arcade and then Shinya, and so on. He never seems to talk that much about himself, but that's mostly because he doesn't know if there's anything interesting to say. ]

I'd never have assumed you the sort to get along with kids, [He says it sort of abruptly, when Shinya comes up, overall enjoying the sound of Akira's voice more than anything. He's a little more cognizant, listening a little more, this time, not just drifting around aimlessly and staying grounded by sound.]

[His thumb slows and eventually stops rubbing against Akira's knuckle entirely, while he talks, possibly an indication that it's working to soothe him.]

I get along with most people, but I don't usually count them as friends. Shinya's kind of an outlier. [ He'd been precocious, but more than that, Akira had seen in him a single person whose relationship with a parental figure he could actually help. He doesn't go into that with Akechi, doesn't think "I had to change his horrible mom's heart" is really where they should be going with the conversation right now. ]

I'm really good at video games, thanks to him.

A point in which we're different, [He offers, his tone largely lacking in any one specific emotion. He means, of course, that he could get along with most people, but never considered any of them as friends. He's still a bit iffy on considering the Thieves friends.] Though it makes sense you'd improve at video games by befriending someone in their target demographic.

[ Ann Takamaki is going to forcibly befriend Akechi and Akira knows there is absolutely nothing in the world he can do to stop it. It'll be funny to watch it happen, though. Akira thinks that Akechi could use a friend like Ann as a sounding board for how to be friends with everyone else. ]

Yeah. We needed to defeat this guy in Mementos, but we had to use video game moves to do it... I think that might have been one of the weirdest parts of this year. [ Weirder than Maruki's reality? Yes. Because video games. ]

That's why I have all those crane game prizes. If you ever want something, I'm really good at them now.

[He has no idea what to expect or avoid, and it's absolutely going to happen without him realizing even remotely. He's going to start texting her daily, and not realize, and then abruptly realize all at once and lose his mind. He will, however, appreciate her unbiased input and absolutely honest suggestions, on the front of befriending the others. She really is what he needs, both in the form of a swift kick in the ass and a good, sincere friend.]

[His relationship with Akira is something else entirely. He will never have a good word for it.]

[His eyes narrow in slow disbelief, but he nods, intoning a wordless sound of acknowledgement.] Is that why you hand me yen like money means nothing to you? You just... win and sell prizes? I've seen the aftermarket costs on some of those things.

[ Akira laughs at that, a little startled by the idea. ]

No, I just saved all the excess money after every palace and wound up with a lot of extra. Everyone voted on letting me keep it. [ They don't necessarily know exactly how much there is, but he's always kept everyone so well-equipped and fed that no one has ever complained. He'll happily pay for everyone's buffet tickets. ]

That'd be a pretty good racket, though.

You're their Leader, it only makes sense. But I suppose with all your Metaverse-generated funding, you wouldn't ever actually need much else. And yet you still work every part-time job under the sun. Or, used to. I suppose I'm putting a damper on that.

[He's always so quick to make himself the problem.]

I was quitting anyway. [ He's going back home, after all... or he was. He's happy for Akechi to throw a wrench in that plan. ]

I worked because it was social. I learned a lot of information. Also, I can make a mean bouquet for any occasion now, but... I'm happier spending time with you.

[His expression muddles and he looks away, going quiet. He's starting to learn it's easier to not argue with Akira about it, but his insistence he's happier spending time with him makes his insides twist into anxious knots.]

Small miracles.

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