stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[ 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.

[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.

Edited 2021-04-12 00:28 (UTC)

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. ]

[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.

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.

[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.

[ 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. ]

[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.]

She'll be thrilled. [ Akira offers a vague smile, but it's mostly for Morgana's benefits. He's going to keep Akechi firmly tucked against him. When the dryer chimes, Akira slowly shifts his grip. He doesn't want to fully let go. ]

C'mon. Can you stand?

[ Akira starts to shift them all up to their feet in one big pile, but he does it with himself as the support pillar. It's like a metaphor. ]

I'm not mad. I'm just worried.

You're rarely mad, [There's not much inflection in his words, but he is trying to rearrange himself so he can stand up with Akira. He folds his fingers inward again and briefly squeezes one of Morgana's paws, who steps out of his palm to allow them to get Akechi to his feet, and he winds up with one arm swung around Akira's shoulders and shaking pretty badly, but he's upright.] Let me get my clothes.

It'd probably be easier if I was mad, huh? [ He's only mad at himself. He thinks Akechi probably hates that the most, but it's not something he can easily change when it's easiest to blame himself when he feels like he's the one most terrified of Akechi dying again. ]

I'll grab it. [ Because it genuinely looks like a stray pair of shorts could knock him over right now. Akira eases him back to the stool, then gets the laundry out, getting everything together with an efficiency born of way too much practice. He grabs Morgana a second later, setting him on the washer so he can jump into the laundry basket, since Akira dashed out without a bag of his own and he doesn't think Akechi needs the extra weight. ]

We'll go slow, but tell me if you need a break.

[Got it in one: Akechi does in fact hate that Akira blames himself for his own fuckups. Seriously. You stop that. Akechi is definitely terrified of dying, but in a sort of resigned way that pales in comparison to Akira's own fear. He sighs softly when set on the stool, but doesn't protest, closing his eyes and focusing on staying upright.]

I may invest in one of those portable washing machines, this is becoming a trend I dislike. [He can hang his clothes to dry over a tarp in the attic, there's plenty of space.]

I've got someone that'll do the laundry while we figure this all out. [ Akira sounds very patient about it, like it isn't a burden at all. It isn't, to him; the burden is seeing Akechi like this, swaying dangerously like he's going to give way at any moment. ]

It's only been a few days. We were probably rushing things. [ Who is he reassuring? Hard to say. ]

[He sways, but just gently, like he's tired. He shakes his head after a moment, frowning-- it takes time some time to process Akira's words.] I don't want someone else to do my laundry, I want... t'be able to do it myself. [He tries to talk just a little too fast, slurs, and bunches up where he sits.]

I'm fine.

We'll get there. [ "We", not "you", because Akira considers this just as much a him problem as it is an Akechi problem. Akira reaches out, wrapping his arm back around Akechi. It's harder, without the hoodie, to be able to get at his skin, and Akira doesn't think making out in front of Morgana will help the situation, but --

it's something. ]

For now, let's go back. I'll make you more coffee.

[The arm around him is grounding, but he feels a little like his head is full of cotton and static, and Akira's words don't make much sense. He raises his head, looks at him for a handful of seconds, tries to process what he didn't entirely hear him say. The static just gets louder, and despite Akira's arm around him, he realizes dully that his fingertips are cold again. He looks down at them, turning his wrists outward, and he finds it distinctly odd that he hears Morgana meow, when he's sure he should actually be saying something.]

[He looks back up at Akira, opens his mouth to say something, and his eyes roll back in his head, body dropping sideways like a sack of potatoes as he loses consciousness completely.]

[ Akira, at least, catches him. He stares at Akechi for a moment, seemingly uncomprehending the sheer audacity he had to just pass out on him like that, and then sighs, looking at Morgana. ]

You're gonna have to walk home yourself, buddy. [ Because even Akira, man of many talents, cannot juggle a cat, laundry, and boyfriend at the same time. As it is, he winds up with a pretty weird sort of shuffle to get Akechi into a sort of half-bridal half-fireman's carry while also stacking the laundry on him.

But it works out, all things considered, and he starts the -- back way led, for the sake of being under every radar -- way back to Leblanc. He's definitely using his phantom thief skills a little to dodge notice. ]

「 You think he'll be okay...? 」

[Morgana hops down easily and circles Akira as he gathers laundry and audaciously unconscious boyfriend, mostly wishing he could help. Unfortunately no thumbs means he is of little use beyond being a lookout as they traverse the back way to Leblanc, and he runs ahead at the mouth of the alley to yowl at the door until someone opens it to let them in.]

[And Akechi... is Out. His heartbeat is fine, his breathing is fine, really the only thing wrong is that he's unconscious-- and very cold. He's warm enough to not be in any specific danger, he's not hypothermic, but his skin, and even his breath, is startlingly cold for an otherwise healthy (""healthy"") nearly-eighteen year old. It's not even exactly that he's sleeping, his body just gave out under his insistence on not resting when he had so little energy, which as he slowly comes around some hours later, he is distantly very annoyed about, because it's not like he's never functioned on far too little energy before, or anything.]

[Morgana insists on staying with them, so Akira isn't alone while Akechi is down, and so he can curl up and purr against his back for a while. It's a number of hours before Akechi stirs at all, and when he opens his eyes he stares blearily around the attic before trying to sit up, very slowly and with a nearly comedic sound of confusion.]

[ When Akechi wakes up, he'll find that he's back in Akira's hoodie (because Akira thought that would be considerably preferable to sleeping in his crisp uniform shirt), and he's tucked neatly into bed, half in Akira's lap so that Akira can keep an arm around him, palm flat on Akechi's stomach underneath the hoodie. It's not a particularly sexual touch -- it's almost absentminded, like putting your hand in a pocket.

He's watching a documentary on a bank heist, though, both of them in bed and Morgana curled up between them. He hasn't cancelled on Haru, but he's temporarily delayed it until evening, which she's agreed to; he's offered to show her a good decaf blend for their conversation.

He just didn't want to leave Akechi. ]

Hey. How are you feeling?

[He gets about up to one elbow before Akira's voice startles him and he drops back into his lap, but that's more comfortable anyway, so he stays there, wheezing softly until he first finds Morgana (whom he pets absently) and then Akira (whom he stares at for a long time while his eyes focus). He makes another stupid sound, and shifts to roll further into him, pressing his face to his abdomen.]

I hate this so much.

[ Boy, does Akira wish Akechi was face down in his lap under different circumstances, but that's a thought for another less risky time. ]

I know. [ A beat, and then: ] You were out for a few hours. Are you feeling better? I've got grocery store sushi for you. From Ann. [ Who had heard from Haru that Akira was delaying things and wanted to make sure he and Akechi hadn't killed each other, and had then promptly stopped by the cafe with a small care package for Akechi. If Akechi looks, he'll see a little box with mentioned sushi, some face masks, and some drug store generic medicine. And a really large cream puff. ]

[Akira please.]

[Grumbling softly again, Akechi moves slowly and actually sits up this time, steadying himself on Akira's shoulder and taking note of the box. He just looks groggy, now, now actively absent and about to fucking die, and he drops his hand from Akira's shoulder and favor of setting his fingers on the mattress and stretching.] I suppose doing my own laundry is out of the picture for a while. [Which is to say, he's not quite 100%, but he's certainly better.]

It might be. We can try you doing laundry while I go to the bath house, maybe. They're closer to each other. [ Still a sense of freedom without a near-death experience.

Idly, Akira notes that he should probably admit the "dating the former enemy" thing to Morgana, because it's at least a little sus that Akechi literally slept in his lap for several hours and then remained there for a few minutes upon waking.

Also, most of the concealer has rubbed off at this point. ]

I'm going to let Haru know I'm ready to see her, so you can stay up here. Do you need anything?

[Morgana is still feigning sleep to give them their privacy, but his ears are swiveled to listen anyway. Akechi's hand moved to gently stroke his fur again, mulling over Akira leaving and if he needs anything first. He looks Akira over and brings his other hand to his throat, tapping on his own to indicate the marks are visible again without saying anything.]

[He should fix those to make sure they aren't visible when he sees Haru-- it might alarm her.]

[Plus it gives him the opportunity to surreptitiously soak up some of Akira's warmth-- from the bathroom, maybe. He isn't sure how he feels about PDA in front of Morgana.]

[ Akira touches his throat idly. Thank god Morgana doesn't comment on this shit most of the time, just chalks it up to Akira being stupid and obviously in love with Akechi, which -

Fair enough. ]

Morgana, go over and let Futaba know he's awake, okay? She was pretty worried. [ Given that Akira had literally burst into Leblanc with a completely comatose Akechi whose body temperature was low enough that he should have been hypothermic and Akira refused to let them call Takemi... Yeah. ]

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

same, futabs

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