are you hurting the one you love?

[stealhearted]

psst psst [clicks tongue for akechi, sets out curry as a treat]--

Comments

[forfeited]

[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.

[stealhearted]

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.

[forfeited]

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.]

[stealhearted]

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. ]

[forfeited]

[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.]

[stealhearted]

[ 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.

[forfeited]

[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.]

[stealhearted]

[ 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?

[forfeited]

[Akechi catches him doing that out of the corner of his eye and grimaces, looking over at him as he's questioned.] Only if you keep doing that, it shouldn't wear off unless you touch it and smudge it off.

[stealhearted]

Sorry. Habit. [ Akira inspects it for a moment longer, then pulls his other layer on over his shirt just to add a basic veneer of presentability. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, which does -- something? Probably?

Not necessarily a good thing, just a something. ]

I'll call so you can go do laundry. Morgana'll be there if you want to run any other errands.

[forfeited]

[He nods, frowning at him for a long time.]

...hey.

[stealhearted]

[ Akira does not call, despite what he'd said, because the last time he actually used his phone to call Futaba she'd been so surprised she'd fallen off the chair. He texts, instead, so when Akechi speaks, his attention is immediately redirected up to look at him, blinking owlishly. ]

Hm?

[forfeited]

[He sort of figured as much, Futaba doesn't seem like the type to enjoy phone calls. He reaches out, setting his fingers on the inside of Akira's wrist-- the one not holding the phone --and steps into his personal bubble, using his other hand to push his fringe out of the way and kiss him squarely between the eyebrows.]

... I didn't thank you for letting me keep my distance. It's appreciated, when you allow it. [And he steps back, pink-faced, pivoting on his heel to move away from him, stiffly.]

[stealhearted]

[ Akira smiles, and despite the fact that they were just making out with the intensity of -- well, teenagers -- he flushes, just a little. Mostly around the ears. ]

I want you to be comfortable. You know, when I'm not awkwardly pushing you.

[forfeited]

[There's something about seeing Akira go red at the ears that makes Akechi's chest startlingly warm, and it spooks him, so he strides to the stairs before he stops to look over his shoulder at him. There's a slight quirk to the corner of his mouth, almost a grin. Challenging, maybe.]

...I'm rarely comfortable, so good luck.

[stealhearted]

[ Akira just meets that grin with one of his own, because even if he's a little embarrassed by -- uh, a lot of things -- he'll absolutely meet any challenge Akechi sets for him. It's basically in his DNA, at this point.

Morgana and Futaba meet Akechi downstairs, and Morgana gallantly goes to do laundry with Akechi while Futaba decides she's going to critique Akira's curry (because Sojiro has banned her from drinking too much coffee after an unspecified Incident that she refuses to elaborate on). ]

[forfeited]

[He gathers his things and as an afterthought, puts on his uniform shirt and pants so he can wash Akira's loaned clothes, takes his change and carries the back of laundry and Akira's schoolbag with Morgana to the laundromat. He doesn't start off with much to say, just setting up the laundry to wash and then perching carefully on one of the stools in the space and folding his hands neatly in his lap, one leg crossed over the other. Morgana makes his way on top of the washing machines and drapes his head off of one not in use, watching him and eventually prompting him to ask how he's adjusting.]

[The conversation is surprisingly pleasant. Akechi is guarded and prickly at first, though never outright rude, and Morgana eventually chooses to hop down and sit near his feet, then climb onto the dryers. It puts him more at eye-level so Akechi doesn't have to look up at him, and the conversation flourishes from it, despite the oddity of talking to a cat. It's simple, easy small talk, but by the end of the wash cycle Morgana can tell Akechi isn't quite right, because he takes longer and longer to think of how to finish his sentences. Akechi has always been a quick-witted, silver-tongued boy, much like Akira, so that he would pause like he had to really think about how to say things was a bit of a red flag. He wouldn't say it presented like dizziness, but it Wasn't Right, either.]

[He sat primly on the dryer next to the one Akechi selected to use as he transferred his laundry, hopping to the one in use as soon as Akechi turned it on and making a great comedic show of finding the vibrations absolutely hilarious. He sat, first, then got up and bounce-walked, then laid down, and made several attempts to get Akechi to sit on the dryer with him (to which, of course, Akechi declined, but perhaps a little too softly). The first time he swayed in place, Morgana couldn't quite be sure if he'd actually moved or it was from the way he was rattling atop the dryer, but he suggested he sit back on the stool again anyway.]

[Unfortunately for all involved parties, Akechi didn't quite get there, making a disoriented, weaving trail for the stool and winding up on the ground about a foot from it. Yowling, Morgana hopped off the dryer, onto the stool and then to the floor, immediately putting both of his front paws on Akechi's knee to look up at him and fuss. He was supposed to say something if he didn't feel right-- not that Morgana actually expected he would. He slurs when he speaks, trying to tell the tuxedo he was fine, he just wanted to sit down, and Morgana clicked his tongue before he hopped off his knee.]

「 I'm getting Akira, and you can be mad at me for it all you want later! 」

[Even lacking the coordination, Akechi tries to reach after him.] No-- don't, I'm fine.

「 Pretty sure our definitions of "fine" aren't the same! Even if you're more okay than you look, I won't be able to help you get your laundry back to Leblanc. Stay still, okay? 」

[And then he's out of the laundromat and booking it back to Leblanc, running full-tilt because he didn't understand the severity of Akechi's condition, and didn't want to waste anymore time. He immediately stands on his back feet and paws fervently at the front door.]

「 Akira! Futaba!! Heyyyy! 」

futaba, after this tag: okay now i really need coffee,

[stealhearted]

[ Akira sees Morgana -- hears Morgana, maybe -- and whips the door open in record time. He quickly observes the fact that there is not an Akechi present, and then immediately takes off without so much as being filled in on the situation -- mostly because there's a cold grip of terror that if it's bad enough for Morgana to come and for Akechi not to call, it might be too late already.

He pushes those thoughts well aside as he thunders his way to the laundromat, which at least isn't far. Thankfully, his journey isn't stopped by any well-meaning police officers, so he slides into the laundromat like he's sliding onto base after a home run, immediately launching himself over to Akechi.

He doesn't waste time talking, at first, just immediately reaches out, puts his bare hands on Akechi's neck, on his wrist. ]

Hey.

same, futabs

[forfeited]

[Morgana expects that much, and as soon as Akira is the one to open the door he's running back toward the laundromat, somehow still on his heels (damn his really fucking long legs, anyway!).]

「 I'm sorry, I should have come sooner-- he started talking real slowly but he wouldn't say he didn't feel right, but we all know how stubborn he is...! 」

[He knows Akira isn't mad and wouldn't be mad, but he still feels responsible-- he was sent as an escort for several reasons, and he feels like he failed at least a few of them.]

[Akechi, on the other hand, is..., not quite terrible, but he certainly isn't good. He's cold, and he feels a bit like he's suspended above the ground and not really touching it. He's pushed himself up against one of the washing machines, insistent on staying upright, and he probably looks like he's just sleeping to anyone who isn't aware of the gravity of his situation. He's pretty sure he hears Akira coming before he slides into the laundromat, but he can't convince his eyes to open until his hands are on him, the contact points immediately seared with heat.]

[He grumbles at him, wordlessly at first, and then Morgana sits under the stool he was supposed to be sitting on, tail curled tightly around his feet and ears pinned and looking terribly scolded, and he manages a wobbly chuckle.] Don't be upset, this is my fault. I'm fine, really.

[stealhearted]

Okay. Okay. [ Akira says it, almost distractedly, like he isn't really talking to either of them -- and he isn't; he's trying to get his bearings, trying to figure out how to handle this situation when his heart rate feels like it's going faster than a techno song and the panic response still makes his throat feel tight and his body flush with the desire to keep fighting or flighting, one of the two.

Akira exhales, slowly, then reaches out the hand that was on Akechi's wrist to pet Morgana's head, a little absently. ]

Sorry. I guess it got worse than expected. [ Akira eyes Akechi a little warily. ]

Can you stand, or do I need to take the back way to carry you home? [ Akechi's dignity absolutely will not allow the latter unless Akechi quite literally cannot walk himself, but Akira thinks "passed out on the floor of the laundromat" is also pretty high on the scale of indignities. ]

[forfeited]

[Morgana chirps softly, the sound not actually words, and moves out from under the stool to sit a little closer, making anxious bees and kneading the air with one outstretched paw. Akechi leans against the washer behind him a little more to keep steady and moves a hand he'd been partially braced on, laying his hand out with his fingers outstretched. Morgana puts his paw in his palm and kneads there a bit, instead.]

[Akechi thinks about the question, closing his eyes and rolling his head on his shoulders slowly, until he's looking more directly at Akira, and he's-- glazed. He isn't really focused at all.] Keep your hands where they are and I should be all right. The laundry still has a few minutes.

[stealhearted]

Okay. We'll wait for that. [ And then Akira takes advantage of the fact that Akechi is unusually pliant to reach out, to tug him forward. He keeps one hand in Akechi's, but he doesn't think this is the kind of situation where Akechi would tap out even if he was capable. He pulls Akechi until Akechi can rest his head on Akira's shoulder, right at the junction of his neck, an easy skin to skin contact. Or skin to concealer, all things considered, but it's close enough that it should get the job done. ]

I'm gonna text Futaba. [ Which is what he does, very carefully, arm still around Akechi, who is -- cold. Not quite deathly cold, but still considerably colder than he should be for the time of year and day it is, the weather reasonably nice. He texts Futaba a quick update, tells her to let Sojiro know they'll be back soon and he won't be able to help out anymore that day.

Futaba responds entirely in kaomoji, which is about what he expected. ]

Futaba says she'll kick your ass if you scare her like that again.

[forfeited]

[He's luckily not even considering the tap out system, and even if it were a thought in his mind, he likely wouldn't act on it simply for the fact that it would be needlessly troublesome for all involved parties. He's also more than pliant-- he's veritably putty, unbalanced and wobbly as Akira drags him closer to rest against more of his skin. He's a bit colder, there, the more of him Akira touches, and his breath rattles a little when he inhales sharply at being manhandled, but he settles and doesn't protest, curling his fingers inward toward his palm as Morgana follows to keep his paw there.]

I left my phone on your bed, [He offers meekly.] And I thought I'd be all right until the dryer was through. Do me the favor of requesting she not kick my ass until I'm actually less of a damsel collapsed on the floor of a laundromat, since I don't figure she plans to actually wait for me to screw this up again.

[stealhearted]

[ Akira sighs, a full body experience because he should have made sure Akechi had his phone on him. It was a dumb oversight, retrospectively, but it's one he can make sure they keep in mind... next time.

The thought of a "next time" still makes Akira's gut clench unpleasantly, given how bad the past two times have gone, but Akira isn't the sort of person who tends to 'let me chain you up in the attic so I can protect you from the world' at the ones he loves.

Which is good, probably, because he's pretty sure he could get away with it. ]

Since she knows you're "sick", she's probably going to demand you watch Featherman with her and eat fruit jelly. [ Which will be good, actually, if Akechi lets it happen, since Akira still needs to meet with Haru. Despite the fact that Akechi has killed a parent for both Haru and Futaba, Futaba is almost stubbornly determined to move past it and get along with him. Akira can posit a few ideas on why, but he's just grateful, really.

Haru's a slower burn, but he thinks she'll be the same. All of them blame Shido more than anything else.

All of them blame themselves. ]

[forfeited]

[He probably wouldn't have texted him anyway, since he was pretty sure Akira was working. He drifts a bit, closing his eyes and not-quite dozing, though his fingers stop curling in toward his palm and Morgana chooses to stand in his palm with both his paws, instead, which prompts him to hum and fold two fingers between each of his paws so they stay there.]

[At the bit about watching Featherman with Futaba, Akechi leans his weight backward a little so he can look up at Akira with a frown.] ...I'm not sick, exactly. I'll let her play my box set, though, it's one of the very few things I can sleep through. [Because of course, letting his literal life drain out of him the way he has has once again exhausted him nearly completely.] ...for what it's worth, given the circumstances, I am sorry. [He's still speaking slowly, though he's slurring less.]

[Above them, the dryer rumbles to a stop and chimes pleasantly.]