stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

I won't. [ Akira won't. He holds onto Akechi just as solidly as before, unwilling to back down. If Akechi is going to open the old wound, then Akira isn't going to just bandage it away again like it doesn't matter. It matters. Akechi matters. Maybe not to the grander scheme of things, maybe not to everyone, but to Akira. ]

You have those options now. [ Akira takes a breath, carefully; he doesn't know how he should be getting through to Akechi. He's never actually known the right things to say. He feels like he's always just stumbling into the right people at the right time and clinging desperately to bonds he can barely explain how he managed to get. ]

Even if you don't think you deserve them, that doesn't mean they're going away. [ The options, or Akira himself. ]

[He hates to consider himself an anxious person, because he's always had this visual depiction of calm, he's always played it like he had his shit together. He knows well he does not, Akira knows well he does not, but it doesn't make it any easier to feel his heartbeat speed up and hammer into his extremities. Akira's clear-cut statement, "I won't", is just as steady as the rest of him, he means it and he won't let go, and the room starts to close in on them slowly the more Akechi realizes he's trapped, and he's done it to himself. Again.]

I don't, [He tries, but the statement is thin and feeble like the rest of his crumbling resolve, because he never expected to be given a second chance. A third chance, really. He doesn't deserve it, he can't process it, and he has no plan for it, so he stands still on a foundation made of sand. Akira, at this point, is the ocean, and the waves are gentle but they're still absolutely washing away what little Akechi can still stand on.] I don't and I can't, and you know I can't leave anyway so why are you still holding onto me. [And maybe that question refers to more than just Akira's hands on him at present.]

Because I--

[ And Akira, for the first time in a long time, fumbles over his words. He hesitates before he can finish the sentence, because Akechi is like a feral cat that's been cornered and Akira doesn't care about getting scratched but he doesn't want to scare him. Akechi isn't used to any sort of tenderness, looks for all the reasons underneath it that it could be a lie, and Akira tries to find a way that Akechi can't just discount the truth so easily.

He reaches up, carefully. There's already a bruise blossoming on Akechi's cheek, and that's going to be fun to explain to Futaba tomorrow, but Akira's fingers trace across the bone, skirt across the outside of the bruise there. ]

I saw all of you, and I still liked you. I saw you ruthless, and I saw you pretending, and I saw you somewhere in between.

I want to keep seeing the "you" that you let out when you don't realize it.

[Akira's hand moves, just one, and Akechi has a brief internal debate with himself over it. With only one hand on him, he could probably skitter out of his grip. But where would he go? There was nowhere to effectively hide in this attic space, save for maybe under the desk approximately four feet to his left, but he wouldn't willingly fold himself up under furniture like a scolded dog if he could avoid it. He has no reason to assume Akira is going to hit him again, either, but the spike of fear in him is enough that he tenses, sucks in a startled gasp of breath, and looks back up to meet Akira's eyes.]

[And regrets it instantaneously, because meeting his eyes as his fingers barely touch the bruise forming on his jaw is already difficult, but when he keeps talking--]

[It's strange. He hadn't taken another breath since the damagingly skittish gasp when Akira reached for his face, so it makes some degree of sense that his lungs would burn, because he hasn't been refilling them, but the burn floods his system like that gasp was actually fire and it was trying to escape him by any means necessary. It drops into the pit of his stomach and follows his arms to his fingertips, still pressed against Akira's chest to keep him at a distance, but then it doubles back and moves upward. There are plenty of places it could escape, but it chooses his throat and his eyes, and it's been years since Akechi has cried, let alone in front of another person, so he doesn't have the sense to recognize what's happening until he's croaking a terrible sound and feels his eyelashes get damp.]

You don't-- you don't know anything, don't speak like you do. Let go, I won't ask you again. [It's an argument more brittle than any he's made before and he knows it, because it's shattering even as he presents it, but he doesn't know how to not argue. At least if he argues, he hasn't given up completely. Except--] Please.

I want to know you. [ Akira says it, and then carefully unfists his hand from Akechi's front. He doesn't move back, just lets the hand fall to his side, his other hand barely a ghost of a touch on Akechi's cheek. Akechi can move away, now, and Akira knows he will, but he wants to stay closer for even the few more seconds he can get.

He wishes he knew how to comfort Akechi. He wishes Akechi would let him, but he understands that there isn't anything he can do right now. He remembers talking with Maruki, learning about all the different kinds of psychology that go into therapy, into helping people, and tries to think if any of it could possibly help.

He comes up short. He lets his gaze fall, carefully, not quite making eye contact any longer now that Akechi is crying in front of him. It's not what he wanted to do, not really, but he supposes this kind of a conclusion was always meant to happen.

At least they didn't break anything in the attic. ]

[The pure and unbridled idiocy of this entire situation sours his stomach and makes him wish he could make himself sick, but then he'd have to deal with that, too, and Akira would probably just feed him again anyway. He makes a sound not entirely unlike a cat spitting mid-hiss, and drops backward to sit back on the couch because Akira is still standing too close for him to take a proper step away from him. He seethes, because he won't sob, folds forward at the waist and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes with his elbows on his thighs.]

You're a fool and I should never have assumed you intelligent enough to respect. [He knew he sounded like a petulant child, his words drenched in the mucus coating his throat and rounding out the barbs he attempted to include, but if he didn't try to be scathing now, he would really have lost all of his appearances.]

[It's fine, probably.]

[ Akira doesn't reply immediately, and when he finally does, it isn't in words. He steps away, wishing that he could go far enough to go downstairs -- to make Akechi something to drink, even if he had no desire to do so; to busy his hands and give them both something else to focus on.

He can't do that, though, so instead he just digs around for a moment, producing a couple of the more interesting books he's collected over his year away from home. He sets them down on the couch, on the blankets he's already put there, wordlessly and cautiously.

He doesn't think Akechi will be in the mood to read, but it's still a nice shield to have in front of one's face. It occurs to him that perhaps the nice gestures are in their own way, worse than anything else, but Akira can't manage anything else. Finally, he ventures: ]

Do you want any ice? For your face.

Less swelling will make it easier to explain to Sakura, [He offers quietly, still powering down the surge of rib-cracking emotion he almost hoped would actually destroy him one day. His whole upper half hurt, his face the least of it, despite having been punched in the jaw, and he sat up enough to notice the new books atop the blankets beside him as he dragged his hands upward and let the room spot back into view. He kept his hands there, palms against his forehead through his hair, and tangled his fingers in his hair further back, pulling in an intermittent way that seemed in some way tied to his breathing.]

[A moment later and he was smearing both hands all the way down his face, and he knows he looks absolutely horrendous, and can only assume it will further Akira's bizarre interest in "knowing him", because the redness to his eyes and his face, the swelling of his eyes and the slight purpling of his jaw really only serves to make him look like a bullied toddler.] If Yongen has a drug store open at this hour, or sometime before Sakura gets here, I can hide the bruise. [He knows his way around a little concealer to hide bruises, because that's basically what under-eye circles amount to, and he had television appearances after far too many late nights or Metaverse trips that required a bit of cosmetic assistance.]

[ Akira wants to tell Akechi to "stay here", like Akira can take care of it, but it isn't that easy, no matter how much he wants it to be. So instead he just steps towards the stairs. ]

There's a store. [ Akira has never gone looking for concealer -- he's rarely needed to hide his injuries, even when they've been on his face -- but he's pretty sure he knows where to go to get some. He hates that he has to take Akechi with him.

He's glad that Akechi is back, but the circumstances aren't exactly what Akira wants, despite what Akechi seems to think. ]

Or you can say the invisible wall did it.

[Akechi would much rather obtain his own concealer, whether Akira is insisting on purchasing it for causing the bruise or otherwise. But as it stands he has no choice but to allow him to both pay for it and obtain it while in his shadow, and he won't lie that the whole thing sits heavy in his gut like an overeaten greasy meal. He gets up anyway, scoffing at Akira's secondary suggestion and waving a hand dismissively before he starts pulling his shoes back on.]

Yes, because inviting Sakura to think me trapped and clumsy enough to get a bruise shaped like your fist on my jaw is precisely the heartwarming reunion I have always dreamed of.

[ Akira waits for Akechi before he moves downstairs, and he stops for a moment once they reach the landing. He looks at Akechi again, and Akechi looks like an absolute wreck. It doesn't bother Akira, save that he's a good part of the reason why, but he imagines it must be the exact opposite of the personality Akechi tends to use even now.

Even if Akechi is trying to be a villain, he usually wants to be a well-put together one, after all. ]

Bathroom's there. I'll get you some ice.

[ The bathroom is pretty minimalist, given it's just intended for customers, for the most part, but there's enough in it to help Akechi freshen up. ]

[And follow he does, albeit slowly. He moves like his limbs are full of lead, not quite dragging but only just. He stops a few steps above Akira and is clearly uncomfortable with being scrutinized, scoffing and moving past him as soon as he's designated the bathroom.]

Don't start pitying me now, you punched me. [And he's more than well aware that most of why he looks so terrible is that he then proceeded to cry barely a fraction of what he needed to, suck it back up like he never felt it at all, and attempt to carry on a humanoid farce.]

[His hand on the door to the bathroom, he pauses, casting a look over his shoulder at him.]

...I did deserve it, however. [He looks the small bathroom over and grimaces slightly, the idea that Leblanc lacked proper living facilities finally proven correct, and he hums softly. No amount of attempted primping is going to make him look presentable, right now.] ...I don't suppose you could loan me a hat.

I've never pitied you. [ Sympathized, mostly, but Akira thinks the nuance might be lost in the current emotional volatility of everyone's favorite Detective Prince.

Akira pauses, though, in the middle of wrapping some ice in a clean dish towel. He frowns, for a second, trying to think if he actually owns any hats. ]

...I have a hoodie? [ You'd think when he was a fugitive, maybe he'd have bought a hat? And you would think wrong, because the boy just pulled his hood up and said "good enough" and somehow it worked. ]

[His grimace worsens, and he stands in front of the mirror a moment trying to reign in his appearance to basically no avail. As a result, he exits the bathroom with a frown, plucking at the hem of his coat.]

...I suppose the uniform is a bit odd to wear out at this time of day, anyway. [Akechi Goro is about to go out in public in your clothing, Akira. Willingly. How do you feel.]

It'll help people not recognize you. [ Akira offers the words and the makeshift ice pack over at the same time, accompanied by a slow roll of the shoulder that's almost a shrug. He studiously keeps his mind from dwelling on the fact that Akechi is going to be in his clothing, because down that way lies a distraction so deep Akira isn't sure he could manage to stay focused on anything relevant.

On the other hand, he does sort of have a reputation as an airhead, so he can probably get away with a lot. ]

Ice it a little first. [ It won't exactly help with the redness, but it might help it stay red instead of an entire rainbow. Akira remembers what his face looked like when he first got back to Leblanc after his interrogation; he doesn't need Akechi's face to look like an entire berry cobbler. ]

[He makes a wordless sound as he accepts the rag of ice, except he doesn't put it to his jaw where Akira punched him immediately-- instead he leans his eyes into it, and unwittingly sighs quietly as he does. Those, at least, he could reduce the temporary swelling of tears from a lot faster than he could reduce the bruise blooming on his jaw.]

[He doesn't leave the ice over his eyes long, though, shifting it to his jaw after a moment and turning his eyes to Akira, waiting to follow him back upstairs for his hoodie to borrow.] I haven't worn a hoodie since I was twelve.

[ Akira leads the way after a moment. He'll take responsibility for the bruise, but not how red Akechi's eyes are; he's pretty sure Akechi wouldn't be crying if he wasn't constantly so emotionally constipated that Akira is impressed he hasn't blown out an organ of some sort. ]

They make a good disguise. [ Akira sounds entirely too nonchalant about it, like the fact that he once had to spend a month hiding from society because Akechi had "killed" him was a totally normal teenage occurrence that everyone underwent.

He digs the hoodie out. He hasn't worn it in awhile, so it still smells faintly of detergent and the pervasive smell of coffee that sinks into everything in Leblanc. It is, at least, a relatively inoffensive grey, as opposed to something following Ann or Yusuke's fashion preferences. ]

[He hums, following him with the ice pack pressed to his face and a fair distance between them when Akira stops to root around through his clothes. He holds out the rag for a moment, unbuttoning his coat one-handed, and sets it aside in favor of pulling the hoodie on over his shirt and tie. It fits well enough-- Akira was a little broader in the shoulders than he was, a bit more toned in muscle definition (being that Akechi had basically no definition at all). It was comfortable, above all else, and he pulls the hood up over his hair nearly immediately before reclaiming the ice.]

It'll do.

...You look silly like that. [ Akira says it and steps forward automatically. He reaches out and the hesitation hits: he just got done being in a very one-sided fight with Akechi, he probably shouldn't touch him.

But Akira has no self-preservation instincts, so he keeps reaching, tugging on the tie until it's untied and he can remove it. It's a small thing, but it makes Akechi look considerably more like a random student who was perhaps up to no good, instead of "Akechi Goro trying to go unrecognized". ]

There.

[His shoulders pull tight when Akira advances, and he inhales to bite back something about it being his hoodie, so if he looked silly what did that mean for when he wore it? But he just bristles and stands very still while Akira fusses, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding when he steps back.]

...you would be the expert here. Shall we, then?

[ Akira cultivates a much more relaxed fashion sense than Akechi, which means that he looks considerably less strange in hoodies and casual clothing. On the other hand, Akira would look extremely out of place in a suit, so there's that. ]

Mm. We could always put you in my glasses again. [ It's light and teasing and a throwback to very early on in their relationship, but Akira hasn't forgotten the moment, because he counts it as one of the first moments that he'd truly caught Akechi off guard.

He doesn't grab his glasses, though, simply toes his shoes back on and grabs his jacket before they step outside. ]

[He makes a horrible gurgling sound in the back of his throat, leering at Akira around the rag full of ice against his jaw, sounding a bit like something rubber getting caught and thrown around in the blades of a blender.]

[He's moving to walk alongside him once they're out of the cafe, though, which is possibly a better step forward than before.] I couldn't see it, but I've no doubt I looked entirely ridiculous, so no thank you.

You looked cute. [ Akira really should have taken a picture when he had the chance, but their friendship was still new. Not that it's any less strained now, honestly. He might have been able to get away with it on sheer tenacity.

"Cute" is probably not a word that people usually use to describe someone they've witnessed laugh like an unhinged sentai villain while shooting a shadow in the face, but Akira has already resigned himself to being weird.

It's not like being a phantom thief was normal. Or, like, being on probation because you tried to save someone from a corrupt politician.

He leads the way to drug store, regardless. It's open pretty late, thankfully, given that the sun set awhile ago. Probably when they were in the middle of their fight, Akira thinks. ]

[Another ground out sound somewhere in the back of his throat and pulls the hood of Akira's jacket closer around his face. It smells like detergent and coffee, and a bit like something else he can't quite put a name to, the cuffs pulled over his palms, but he stops inhaling the smell before he can think too hard about it because that, like Akira's thoughts of an unhinged sentai villain being cute, is fucking weird.]

[He navigates the drug store easily, finding the cosmetics aisle and what he's looking for near-immediately, dropping into a crouch and deliberating over shades. He pulls the sleeve of the hoodie back to expose his wrist and tests two colors before deciding on one, and grabs a small pouch of applicator sponges while he's at it. On the way out of the aisle he pauses, turning to Akira with an odd look, and lays claim to a stick of lip balm, as well.] I'll pay you back for these when I've determined what the state of my own assets are.

It's fine. [ Akira pays without thinking about it, deftly offering the cashier a few smiles to deflect any attention away from Akechi until the items are bagged up and they can step away. He lets Akechi take the bag, because Akira doesn't need anything and has to be a little more careful about his finances now that he doesn't have a steady stream of money thanks to palace loot. ]

This is since I punched you, so I owe you. [ Sure, Akechi goaded him, but he still was the one who threw the first -- and only -- punch. ]

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