stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

They're not. [ Akira leans in, presses his forehead against Akechi's and puts his hand over the one in his hair, slowly urging it to relax. ]

If it didn't mean anything, you wouldn't be upset by it.

[He wants to push him away, wants to shout and throw a tantrum, but he's done enough of that by now. He makes a stupid sound at Akira's very succinct callout, if it didn't mean anything, you wouldn't be upset by it, sitting up and headbutting him away from his forehead in favor of tangling himself up in a sitting position instead.]

If you haven't noticed, I can't seem to stop being upset, since all this happened. It's not like it's an especially noteworthy development.

Yeah. That's called "caring". It can be rough. [ Akira allows Akechi to tangle himself up however he likes, and then Akira promptly wraps his arms back around Akechi once he's settled, burrowing into him like he's the one that needs comfort even though they've come full circle at this point. ]

It's exhausting and I hate it. [Petulantly, because of course.]

[But he leans back into him after another moment of being bunched up like a scrunchie, bringing one hand to the tender spots Akira left on his skin.] ...I don't know where you get so much patience to tolerate this of me. All the time.

Was it hard to tolerate me? [ Akira asks, almost nonchalantly. ] When I couldn't even sit down myself because talking to a cop threw me off so badly?

[ He knows the answer, but he needs Akechi to understand it, too. Everything Akira gives, Akechi does, too, Akechi just never believes it. ]

That was-- [Different, he starts to say, but then his brain whirs into motion and he realizes what Akira's done.] ...that was different. [Quietly. He looks at him over his shoulder, searching, and then away again, shifting his hand to his stomach and pressing. He's confusing himself.]

I know. It's different. We're different. [ Akira reaches up, presses his fingertips to one of the now-raised marks along Akechi's collarbone, one of the more vicious ones. He doesn't add much pressure, really, just circles it idly, like it's a thing that he's done. ]

But it's similar. Even when it's hard, it's not time wasted.

It would have been inconvenient for me to get found out, so you... Incited your own anxieties over the police in my favor. It only makes sense that as a result I monitor your state afterward. [His tone is distant-- he's compartmentalizing, but out loud instead of just in his head like he might normally.] It's not the same as you taking every little hairline fracture in my ability to function and running superglue along it.

[He uses his other hand to guide Akira's more over the spot, press the pad of his finger into the bruise until he winces slightly.] ...it's. You've already spent so much time on me.

I want to spend time with you. [ Akira allows the press, allows the way Akechi is now using the bruises Akira has given him as a weird sort of self-injury -- is that something Akira should worry about, he thinks? Well, one issue at a time, probably. If it's something to keep him grounded, then that's fine, and they'll cover better, healthier coping mechanisms when they're no longer having regularly scheduled breakdowns. ]

Even before. That's why I kept inviting you to the jazz club in January. I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could, and that hasn't changed. You've always been difficult. [ Akira shoots Akechi a grin that's only a little lopsided. ]

That's just who you are.

[He makes a noncommittal grunt of a sound, sagging to lean into him a little and scowling at himself for it.]

I depend on you too much, then.

I'm just helping you get your feet back on the ground. [ Akira doesn't think Akechi will be this dependent for long. Even if they stick together, even if they share a life and a home, Akechi is the sort of person that isn't himself if he isn't being ridiculously stubborn.

It's genuinely part of why Akira likes him, even if it's sometimes deeply frustrating. ]

Seeing as you're the only reason they are here and solid again in the first place, I'd say you're doing quite the job of it.

[Warily;] ...can I go do my laundry?

You're not a prisoner here. [ Akira leans in and kisses the tip of Akechi's nose, because he's allowed to be nauseatingly domestic after everything. ]

Show me how to cover this up and I'll call Futaba.

[He allows it, scrunching his nose like a rabbit but drawing away from him as soon as Akira isn't preventing the motion. He sits curled on the edge of the futon a moment, thoughtful, and then turns to look at him again.]

Do you just want me to cover them, or do you want me to show you how to?

Hmm. You can show me how, but I'm not a quick learner. [ Which is an absolute lie, he picks things up atrociously fast, but makeup is something he's barely dabbled in, so he's more of a beginner than usual. ]

So you'll have to do it for me.

[A scowl.] Funny, you learn unreasonably quickly when it comes to billiards and darts, but suddenly you aren't so quick? Come here. [He climbs off the bed and holds a hand back for him to take, not quite looking at him.]

I was specifically getting good at those to impress you. [ Akira doesn't think his makeup skills are going to do a whole lot in that department, but he takes the hand, leveraging himself up to his feet again. ]

[The way he rolls his eyes is very put-upon, but he doesn't let go of Akira's hand, either.] It mostly just served to piss me off, because it was another thing you did better than I did.

You would have hated it more if I hadn't been good. [ If Akechi was beat by someone totally dull, he's pretty sure Akechi really would have lost it, for real, no take backs. ]

I don't have a mirror up here.

Valid.

[He considers taking him down to the bathroom, but shakes his head mid-thought.] I do, [And he releases Akira's hand only in favor of moving to what has been designated as his shelf, pulling a small square mirror from the toiletries bag Sae had given him. He waves it slightly, moving back over to him and claiming the concealer along the way.] Here, let me... show you, first. [He props the mirror up on the shelf closer to the futon, finds his own concealer and waves for Akira to come watch him as he pushes the collar of Akira's hoodie aside and dabs concealer directly over the darkest mark at his collarbones. He then caps it again and dabs it outward with the pad of a finger, blending it into his skin so it's nearly invisible.]

Huh. Seems fake. [ Mostly because it seems deceptively easy and nothing like the hour-long tutorials Ann has agonized over trying to get a "golden sheen" or "double wing tips" or whatever the hell she works on.

Akira is supportive, even when he doesn't understand, but he really does think she always looks pretty. ]

[He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, tutting at him and setting his own concealer down in favor of claiming Akira's.] Hush and sit back down so I can make you some kind of presentable.

[He would agree that Ann was always pretty. Especially from the stance of someone who had been on television-- she didn't need makeup, she had enough charm and beauty to shine without it. Not that he'd ever verbalize that, honestly.]

[ Akira sits down. Luckily, he favors v-neck shirts, so with his outer layer off, he doesn't need to worry about having to twist to bare his neck any; the bruises are already on display in full color. ]

I'll probably have to tell Morgana. He'll want to come back soon, and if it happens again, he'll need to know he can just whack you with a paw.

[He sits beside him and doesn't say anything, just working to dab on concealer and blend it into Akira's skin with the gentlest of motions, like he's afraid of hurting him again.] ...mmn. [It makes sense. It doesn't mean he likes it any.]

[He makes quick work of his whole throat, mostly because he doesn't want to look at it anymore than he absolutely has to, and when he's done he's tense and jittery all over again.] There. [He gets up and claims his mirror, offering it to Akira and resuming not looking at him.]

[ Akira looks at it in the mirror, and then -- in a motion that unconsciously mirrors some of Akechi's -- reaches up to press down on some of the bruises. He can't see them, but he can feel them, which counts for something. ]

Do I need to worry about this rubbing off?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject