stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[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.

You're also a great excuse to not go home. [ Akira hesitates for a minute, but then goes for it -- sharing a little more honesty might make Akechi feel better about how much he's shared, about how vulnerable he's had to be. ]

I didn't... want to, anyway. It's been nicer in Tokyo than it ever was back home, but I was worried... You know, Sojiro said I could stay, but I thought maybe he was just saying that. [ Even though Sojiro has never in his life done something like that. ]

I still feel like I'll outstay my welcome if I'm not careful.

[He thinks he might appreciate the honesty more if it wasn't... in direct relation to painting himself in a positive light. He's still not readily able to do that.] You don't need me to stay in Tokyo. No one here would tell you to leave, least of all your guardian. Have you paid no attention to the fondness he holds for you? [The last part comes out a little acidic-- he's not jealous, exactly, he's mostly just mad that Akira seems unaware.]

It's hard to believe that people like you. [ Akira looks at Akechi at that, a long, careful look, because he knows that Akechi struggles with it and he knows that he'll keep saying he likes him as many times as it takes until he believes it. ]

I've only been here a year. Sometimes it feels like that's no time at all. [ Like no one even knows him, and once they find out, they won't like him.

He doesn't worry about it as much with the Phantom Thieves anymore, not really, but... he thinks everyone is a little insecure sometimes. ]

[His mouth pulls into a tight line and the rest of his posture follows until he stops walking, gripping onto Akira's fingers hard enough that it might hurt, a little.] I might not-- know them, any of them, but it's. They like you. The way you all fought, in the Metaverse, the way you spend time outside of it, maybe I'm not the most well-versed in this sort of thing, but. [Why is he struggling so much with this. Why does it bother him that Akira doesn't know he's liked. That if he just said this to them, that he wasn't sure, they'd rush to assure him.]

[Couldn't possibly be because he's terrified they'd all do the same for him. He couldn't handle it-- they couldn't possibly mean it. How could he claim they meant it for Akira if he refused to allow them to mean it for himself, even if he hadn't known them near as long, hadn't fought beside them, had betrayed them--]

[He's seething in shallow breaths through his teeth.]

[ Akechi's grip hurts, but it's grounding in that way. Akira looks at Akechi, turning his body to take him in, and Akira softens around the edges, his mouth pulling out into a helpless sort of smile. ]

I know. I think I know. But knowing and being able to believe it are different things. [ Akira knows, he can rationalize it a million times over, pile up all the evidence and come out in favor of people genuinely liking him.

But it's harder to believe it, when he feels like he can see all the evidence. That he's a person comprised entirely of what everyone else wants him to be; that he's barely a real person, held together by the wants and needs of the people around him. Who is he, without that mask? Without any of his masks?

Would everyone still like him so much if he wasn't useful? He's too afraid to stop long enough to find out. ]

You know I like you, but you don't believe it.

That's because I'm not a likable person. That's because I've-- [Been lied to so many times, been told he was useful and doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing, only to be discarded. Because he is, by design, an unwanted life, who was shouldered by a woman who couldn't handle the burden of him, because he ruined everything he touched.]

This is wildly hypocritical of me to say, at this point, but damn it, Akira, I like you, and that's saying something, because I don't like anyone, really. [His grip loosens slightly, and he steps a little closer, frowning.]

[ Akira also steps closer, and the smile that he gives Akechi is honestly a little heart breaking. He thinks he needed to hear that, a little; to hear that Akechi likes him, that it isn't one sided. He already knows that this all "means something". ]

I'm glad. I think if you liked me, it doesn't matter if anyone else does.

... but I'm glad they like us both. [ Because if this is going to be a victory, it's going to be for them both. Akira isn't sure when he started to mentally think of he and Akechi as a team, but--

But he wants to. ]

[He huffs a disgruntled little sigh of a sound, hunching his shoulders until they're bunched up around his ears and he's scowling at Akira, even if there's absolutely no heat to the expression.] Oh don't look at me like that, you weird lovesick puppy. You are making a mistake, several of them, and I await the day you figure that out.

[And yet he still hunkers right to him, setting his chin on Akira's shoulder while he scowls.] Stupid, all of you.

[ Akira reaches up to twirl just the very end of Akechi's hair, rolling the tips between his fingers almost idly. Soft... ]

You're the best mistake I could be making. [ And then he leans in to press a kiss to Akechi's temple, gentle and loving. ]

Stop saying things like that. [Yet he doesn't dissuade him from the contact, ducking his head down and sideways to look at him from too-close to properly focus.] Why do you always... you can't see or believe people like you, but you give so much, so readily. Where do you get off, being that way.

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