stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[He looks up, then, his whole body sort of lurching forward, and he wants to go with him, follow him downstairs and watch him cook, sit at the bar like things were even remotely normal. Fill out a fucking crossword puzzle, maybe.]

[He balls his hands into fists at his sides, raises them and presses the heels of them into his forehead, taps them a few times. He paces away, making a frustrated gasp of sound, creaks oddly, and sits on the couch, dropping his head back onto the wall with a thud. He's at least... animated, to a degree, he's still moving like Akechi. A frustrated, tired Akechi. He opens his eyes to glare at the ceiling, and then manages a wry sort of crooked smile, curling his hand into a thumbs up.]

[Go make dinner, you domestic fool. He's going to continue to be angry with himself for the fact that he's literally developed selective mutism over his own neuroses. It's fine. He's fine.]

[ Akira watches this entire exhibit with open worry, and idly wishes that any of their bruises from the MetaVerse had carried over, because there's nothing either of them can press on to ground Akechi and they just have to wait it out. Akira feels like punching Akechi now would be -- bad? For reasons he can't quite get to, can't quite unlock. ]

Okay. You can text me if you need anything. [ Since... it seems like talking is hard for him right now, which. Is seriously alarming.

Akira heads downstairs and fires off several texts immediately -- to Futaba, about Morgana; to Ann, because she's the one closest to Akechi besides him; to Takemi, asking if she has a researcher login so he can read the full studies on pscience-based PTSD.

He does this all standing in front of the fridge, Sojiro watching in bemusement, before he finally starts cooking dinner. ]

[He cycles through a few attempts, a few various methods, goes as far as to pick up Akira's pillow and try to scream into it. Nothing happens, so he's just flustered and red-faced, so he stomps down the stairs with his bag of toiletries from Sae and locks himself in the bathroom for a while.]

[He does actually wash his face, about three times, and when he leaves the bathroom he stands outside the closed door for a moment, looking into the cafe for a while. It's empty, apart from Akira and Sojiro, the latter of whom he offers a short bow to to be polite, since he completely forgot to even acknowledge him on their way in. He walks up to Akira like a scolded cat, then, reaches out and very carefully places one finger against the back of his palm.]

[Keep going, if Akira remembers correctly. What it means in this context is hard to say, but the contact is oddly plaintive.]

[He looks from his finger against his hand to the food he's making, back, and eventually to his face, opening his mouth and finally reclaiming his finger. He points to dinner, smiling apologetically, and shakes his head, holding his hand up to wave off the prospect. It takes him a few tries to figure out how to pantomime "sleep", going from holding his hand in front of his mouth, partially open like a yawn, to the more childish version of putting his hands flat together and then sideways, setting his cheek against them. When he's through with that, and sort of embarrassed about the bizarre game of charades he's playing, he haltingly reaches back out and taps one finger squarely on the middle of the back of his hand again.]

[Keep going. It could mean keep making dinner? It could mean... a lot of things, really.]

It's okay. [ Akira leans in again, and because Sojiro is there, doesn't do anything else -- just grabs at Akechi's hand and holds onto it for a moment, squeezing before he releases. ]

I'll bring you food, but it's alright if you want to sleep instead of eating. [ Akira doesn't understand the selective mutism, but he wants to help; he doesn't think there's anything he can do, so he just. Has to support Akechi until Akechi can get where he needs to be. ]

Morgana's coming over, so he'll eat your leftovers. [ With minimal complaining, probably. ]

[Akechi doesn't understand it, either, and it's frustrating beyond belief, but it's... Well, it should be good that Akira is tolerant of it, but it isn't, in the long run, because it'll just make things harder when the inevitable bubble of anxious impending doom behind Akechi's ribs finally pops. He nods, because Morgana can have his leftovers, even if they aren't really leftovers if he never ate anything to begin with, but food is very far from something Akechi even wants to think about. As is, the smell of whatever Akira's cooking (probably curry, when is it ever anything but curry) is turning his stomach, so he takes a step backward and-- bows.]

[He bows. To Akira.]

[It's just a short thing, almost more of a curtsy, but he doesn't realize how weird it must have looked until he's turned heel and is halfway up the stairs to the attic again. He sinks, sitting there for a moment with his bag of toiletries, and when he gets up again he runs to the other side of the attic, throwing himself onto the mattress as carefully as he can consciously manage in the state he's in, and tries again to scream into Akira's pillow.]

[It still doesn't work, so he just continues to lay face-down on the mattress, hands bunched up in it until whenever Akira comes back upstairs. He's probably asleep whenever that happens, or whenever Morgana shows up, but he is tired. Who cares if it's barely sundown.]

[ When Akira peers up to check, Akechi is, for all appearances, asleep -- so Akira just wraps the food up and puts it in the fridge. He eats curry, instead, and Sojiro watches but doesn't say anything, and Akira feels weird about it all but it was a meal he and Akechi had planned out together and it feels weird not to eat it with him.

He goes into the attic again, finally, slipping into his loungewear. It's early, but the Metaverse is tiring. He sends off a message to everyone that they'll need to meet up tomorrow, watches the way everyone replies automatically. They don't even know the Metaverse is back and they're already so ready to follow his lead; it'd be overwhelming if he wasn't used to it.

He sits down on the bed, slipping in alongside Akechi. He leans down, presses a kiss to his temple. Akechi's too light of a sleeper for Akira to get in without waking him up, but it's really 50/50 on if Akechi pretends to still be sleeping or not. ]

Sleep well. I love you. [ It's almost automatic to say it, now; Akira says it so often because it's true, and he doesn't mind that Akechi can't say it back, but this once -- just this once -- Akira's own anxiety twists Akechi's silence into something he can use to wound himself. ]

[He wakes up enough to roll onto his side, to scoot the pillow out from where he'd claimed the whole thing to try screaming into so Akira can use it, too. He does it tentatively, and at first he stays stiff on his side like he's afraid of touching him, until Akira is-- so sweet it hurts. Again.]

[He reaches out carefully, then, touches him once and recoils, touches him again and walks his fingers along the back of his hand until he takes hold of the end of Akira's fingers. It's a light hold, tentative like he's afraid of it, but after a moment he reaches out and taps him with his index finger again, just once.]

Okay. [ Akira says, his voice a little thick -- with exhaustion; with emotions he can't quite identify; with the voice in his head chanting that this wasn't how it was supposed to go -- and he reaches out. He doesn't quite wrap an arm around Akechi, but just rests an arm lightly on Akechi's side, a not-quite embrace that Akira tries to use to convey that he's there.

He's there, he's not going anywhere, and Akechi can take as long as he needs. Even if Akira hopes that it isn't very long at all.

He's vaguely aware of Morgana settling down half on both of them, and he thinks, idly, that the cat was definitely a good decision, because Morgana can talk enough for all three of them when he really gets going.

Then Akira falls asleep. ]

[He knows it's a problem when as he drifts off the last distinct thought in his head is that he sort of hopes he doesn't wake up. If this is the last thing he gets, this simple, gentle contact, falling asleep after Akira has drifted off, Morgana's weight evenly distributed across them both, he might just be okay.]

[Fortunately, or unfortunately in the sourest corner of his mind, he does wake up.]

[And he rationalizes, immediately. He argues with himself. If Akira was going to discard him, why hadn't he done it already? It took too much effort, probably. He was tired from the Metaverse, as well. He was only human. But he's sure of it, he's so sure of it, that the other shoe is falling slowly, and it'll hit the ground and everything he's tried so hard to not enjoy these past few weeks is about to blow up in his face. Like it always does.]

[He pets Morgana a lot, through the day. He manages little sounds, but he still doesn't figure out how to make words. He slept, he thinks-- not well, but he's rested enough to be aware that he's in a fog. He realizes that the single-tap on Akira's hand from the day before had been a silent plea, not telling him to make dinner anyway. It had been his way of imploring Akira to keep going, with whatever they were working toward. Imploring him to keep him, and it makes him want to go back to bed. Makes him climb back onto the mental ledge of not wanting to wake up again, crouch there and stay, oddly patient.]

[He picks up a notebook and writes short phrases in it. First and foremost, he writes 'I'm sorry', and sets it in Akira's lap. He doesn't write anything else for a while after that. Later, he adds 'I'm fine, I promise', but he's not sure who he's fooling. When the rest of the Thieves show up, he's prepared, having written on a few pages. 'Akira will explain, but we entered what appears to be a fake Metaverse yesterday. I think my lack of ability to speak is just a side effect of the exhaustion of it.' And it doesn't feel entirely like a lie. It's a decent enough story, even if he knows Akira doesn't buy it even for a second.]

[ Akira, for lack of any better option, keeps going. He takes that one tap and holds it close as a sign that Akechi will be okay, at some point, and he uses that to keep himself from worrying too much.

So he gets up and he kisses Akechi good morning, and he makes them breakfast, and he tells Akechi there's leftovers in the fridge and no, Morgana, you can't have all of them. He sends messages to the Phantom Thieves individually, telling them there's a new metaverse and he'll fill them in, but he and Akechi were stuck there and Akechi isn't feeling so great because of it. He tells Akechi he can skip the meeting, if he wants; he knows Akechi won't.

Almost absentmindedly, Akira fusses. He makes Akechi carrots cooked in miso and chicken broth and serves it to him with soft boiled eggs and rice; he offers to make him tea instead of coffee if his throat hurts and then immediately makes him coffee when Akechi looks like he was just punched.

When Akechi apologizes, Akira just looks at it for a long moment. Then he smiles, a little unsure, and leans in to push their foreheads together, to let his eyelashes brush against Akechi's. ]

It's okay. I can still hear you even when you aren't saying anything.

[From there time passes in odd smears that he doesn't fully remember. Everyone dotes on him and he wants to push them away, but doesn't waste his energy on it. Haru leaves them some tea, Yusuke leaves a book of strange artwork he claims helps him when he isn't doing well, and Akechi isn't sure he wants to understand that. Ryuji bugs Akira to go with him to the arcade the following day, and Ann decides she and Goro will get crepes while the boys play in the arcade. Makoto is insistent that Akechi take care of himself in a way that is so much like her sister he almost has to leave the room-- Futaba excitedly suggests they go check out the new Metaverse, and he does leave.]

[Morgana sits in front of the bathroom door when he locks himself in it, like he's guarding him, and Akechi tries to feel less wretched. It doesn't work.]

[ Akira waits, until the cafe is silent and everyone has left, and then he calmly brews Akechi a coffee -- decaf, because the last thing he needs is more anxiety -- and gets a small ziplock bag of carrots, plain.

Then he knocks on the door, gently. ]

You don't need to open the door, but it's just me. I made you some food and coffee. [ Made is a strong word for a bag of uncooked carrots, but. ]

...I know it's probably stifling, to have everyone so worried about you when you don't know how to feel better. So -- you don't have to push yourself. It's okay to take it slow, and feel better when you really do, or talk about things when you're ready.

We're not going to get frustrated because we're worried. [ A beat, and then: ]

I'm not going to give up on you just because you're struggling.

[He's wedged back between the wall and the toilet, knees drawn to his chest with his phone in his hands, absently playing a mobile crossword puzzle. He heard everyone making their way down the stairs and out of the cafe, but he's strangely comfortable now, so unless he hears someone else come in that could need use of the restroom, he isn't sure he plans to move for a while yet. Akira knocking draws his attention and he moves to the door, unlocking it and pulling it inward just enough to look at him, not quite frowning so much as he just looks... Well, like he's not spoken in a day and has been locked in a bathroom playing crossword puzzles.]

[Akira continuing past the declaration of food and coffee is what hurts. He immediately looks away, sits back down with the door open, folds around his knees and closes his eyes. I'm not going to give up on you just because you're struggling makes him flinch, folding inward further for a moment before reaching up to grab hold of the edge of Akira's sleeve. He doesn't look at him, and he struggles for a little while trying to force sound out of his throat, pressing his face into his knees and making a sound a bit like a large frog being squeezed.]

[And even still, he croaks when he finally makes words happen, and he makes a very stupid face about it.] I'm sorry to be such a problem. Can-- [His voice cracks and he just scowls, pulling on Akira's sleeve again.] Sit?

Edited 2021-04-18 20:56 (UTC)

...Yeah. [ Akira steps into the bathroom properly, closing the door behind him for the space and the privacy -- even though there's no one else in the cafe, save for Morgana who has already gone upstairs -- and sits down. He hasn't brought the food in with him, since it feels unhygienic to eat in a bathroom, even one as clean as Leblanc.

Akira leans his back against thedoor and slowly raises an arm. ]

Do you want to come here? [ Because Akira generally feels better when Akechi is in his arms, or when he's in Akechi's arms, no matter what he has going on in his own head. It's grounding to have another person there, another warmth, a concrete sign of affection with the repetition that Akechi wouldn't lie about this, not anymore. (Sometimes, it still isn't enough to drown out the 'Wouldn't he?' in his head, which is less a mistrust of Akechi and more a deep-seated reflection of Akira's view on himself.) ]

You're not... a problem, just because you have problems.

[He feels something like he's back at square one, against all the progress they've made. He wants to go to him, he wants to curl up against him and he wants to feel the comfort he's gotten too accustomed to, the warmth and the weight and the protective cage of Akira's person, he wants to fit back into it like he belongs there, he wants to belong there but it's impossible to convince himself he's allowed to. Even with Akira speaking so gently, reminding him it's okay, he's not a problem.]

[It's a lie, it just has to be. Nothing can be this comfortable this easily, least of all for him.]

[So instead he stays put, reaching up to find and tangle their fingers, shaking his head slowly. He'll allow himself something-- it's more for Akira's comfort, he thinks. His mind and his heart are waging war against each other-- why would Akira worry so much, why would he assure him of so many things, make him food and coffee like this, when he was just going to discard him? A ruse, obviously. To keep him comfortable until the moment he ejects him, to lower his guard. He has no reason to think such things of Akira, of any of them, really, but he can't shake that it has to be what's coming.]

[Mostly, he thinks, because he can't formulate what else could be coming.]

I am a problem, [He states, barely above a whisper.] I just. Am. [He traces along Akira's knuckles, dully realizing he's trying to memorize how they feel.]

Even if you are, [ Akira allows, carefully, making sure that both their hands are tangled so he can hold onto them, so he can hold onto him, hold onto Akechi as thoroughly as he can so that Akechi can stop thinking so much. ] you're a problem I like solving. I told you that.

[ Akira hesitates for a long moment, something a little darker than doubt in his eyes, and then he looks down for a second before he looks up, and he's --

scared. He's scared, because he feels like he was the one that screwed up, that it was too much too fast and he breezed past things like "consent" in favor of taking advantage of Akechi in the MetaVerse, but was that even fair to say, when Akechi was at least kind of in control, but was he-- ]

Is this because -- was it bad? Did you -- should I not have?

[You're a problem I like solving.]

[It's an odd sensation, to feel his heart get punched out of his body. It's a lie-- it has to be. Who likes solving a problem as constantly draining as Akechi Goro? He's always difficult, he's always angry or upset about something, he's always broken. Even as a child, he was too meek, or too uppity, even if he got good marks in school his hair was too long and he got mad too easily. He was so unwanted to even his mother that she couldn't bear to continue to raise him-- too many times that he came home too early, that their meal ticket got angry he had been conceived. It was easier to fuck someone who had no strings attached, who wouldn't cling back because she needed to feed more than just herself.]

[It would be so much easier if he hadn't decided to be angry at his father instead of just mourn his mother until he wasted away, like she had.]

[His fingers get cold again, rather suddenly, because he's rejecting Akira's view again. Rejecting it-- because it can't possibly be true. He can't, absolutely can not, care about a wretch like him, enough to want him around for anything, except maybe--]

[...maybe that, but, the fear in Akira's eyes is so sudden and it hurts, because he should never look so frightened. That's his fault, too. He wouldn't look so scared if Goro hadn't fucked up again. His throat closes up and he shakes his head, seeing the way he prioritizes Akechi over himself again. Because he was enough of a problem that he felt he had to. He lurches forward, reaching out, framing Akira's face with his hands.]

Don't-- don't do that, [He pats his face, shaking, and his hands are cold to his wrists, now.] It wasn't-- I liked it, I wanted it, Akira I want so much that I should not, can not, will not take from you. This-- this is, this-- I'm, you're not-- [He realizes, even when his voice is a creaked whisper, even when he can't put force behind anything he says, can barely say it at all, that this isn't something he could say under normal circumstances, either.]

[He thinks maybe this is something he should be crying about, but all he can see is Akira and the fear in his eyes, and all he can focus on is trying to make that stop.]

But I-- you've been so upset, and that's the only thing that's different, and I thought-- [ Akira takes a deep breath, because they can't both be hysterical, babbling wrecks right now. They can't both be complete messes, even though they are. Akechi thinks Akira is so good and held together and Akira doesn't see it, doesn't feel it, doesn't know how Akechi can see anything worth liking underneath all the layers he's put upon, and --

If he solves Akechi, will Akechi even want him anymore? ]

I thought maybe it was too much. That it should have happened in the real world, or that you didn't want it, because everytime before-- [ Akira does not say that Akechi would zone out like a trauma victim, he does not say his concerns about Akechi being involved in sex prior to this -- god, would he have been younger than 17? was he younger than Akira? -- and he does not say that he's scared. ]

Did it change something? [ Akira asks, concerned, because yes, of course, he wants to sleep with Akechi Goro, of course he wants that, because Akechi is attractive, with his burnished gold hair and his infuriating smirk and his razor-sharp wit and his hands that are so soft from being inside gloves all the time -- but he doesn't want it if it hurts him. ]

[They may never find out, because Akechi seems to be determined to behave like a possessed rubix cube.]

[His hands slide to Akira's neck, bracketing the column of skin and muscle and sound with both hands, tracing his thumbs where there were bruises from the same hands. He lays them flat against his shoulders, curls inward, leans against him. He's exhausted, suddenly-- he's been exhausted for weeks, he's been so exhausted his body has actively failed him a few times, now, but this is more akin to his heart is too tired for him to respond, immediately.]

[His voice creaks and he hates it, so he pulls out his phone, typing instead.]

I am always upset, I think.
It wasn't too much, and you tried to make it happen outside of the Metaverse at least a few times and I refused you.
I can't entirely explain why that is, other than I am not accustomed to things I want being permissible things for me to have.

[Thirteen. He was thirteen, the first time. That is not something he ever plans to discuss.]

[ Akira takes a breath again, steadying and careful, and then leans in to press his forehead onto Akechi's shoulder until he can manage to come up with a response. His eyes feel warm and his throat feels thick, and he thinks they made it a record several days with neither of them crying before they both cried on a bathroom floor in Leblanc, and he's not sure if that's a good track record or a worse one.

Finally, he pulls back, looking at Akechi again. ]

But I'm giving me to you. And I -- I want to give you whatever you want. I want to be able to make you happy, even if it's only a little. Even -- even now, when I'm worried and scared, I don't think about a life without you. I think about talking to you. When Ann goes abroad, or if Makoto gets sick, or Haru is stressed opening a new cafe -- I want to talk about those things with you. I want you to be there with me for all of them.

You're -- you're allowed to want things. You're allowed to have them. I kicked god's ass once, so I'm allowed to give you permission.

*A* God. Yaldabaoth was *a* God.
But you've made your point.

[He hasn't cried, not yet. It's... surprising, because he thinks maybe he should. Figures, the one time it would be a logical thing to do, he doesn't. But he can hear the emotion in Akira's voice, caught in his throat like it is, and he shifts his focus.]

Let's go back upstairs.

Oh, I kicked Justine and Caroline's ass once... and Lavenza. And Jose. They're all kind of gods. [ He's actually not sure what most of them are (he theorizes Jose is part egg), but they probably count as something like that. There's also the Reaper, but the last time the Reaper attacked him it literally sneezed itself to death, so.

Akira stands up, slowly, reaching out a hand to help lift Akechi. ]

I'm still making you eat dinner.

[He allows it, still stiff and still distant, but as he stands he looks Akira over carefully, stepping into his arms to fold his own around Akira's shoulders.]

Fine, I'll eat. [He can't do much more than whisper, but he's making progress.]

Okay. [ Akira leans in, nuzzling against Akechi's neck in a gesture that's considerably more affectionate than sexual or anything else -- it's vaguely reminiscent of Morgana headbutting someone. That kind of vibe. He eventually lets go, heading out, and there's still Akechi's food and drink on the counter, set up like Akira was hoping he'd be there to eat it.

It's a little cold now (or room temperature, in the case of the carrots), but. ]

I didn't... I thought you wouldn't want me to make anything fancy. [ It's just carrots. They're not cut into cute shapes or anything, for once, though there is a tasty miso-based dipping sauce on the side. ]

[He's still struggling, he realizes, because seeing the simple setup does something to the effect of taking a large flat utensil and scraping all of his insides out of his body into a pile on the floor. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, just a bit at first and then to the point he's chewing on it wholesale, but it doesn't really do much.]

[He was so convinced. He was so sure, and he still wants to be, because if he's sure and he's convinced it won't hurt when it happens, but Akira's gone and made him coffee, and put little carrots in a ziploc baggie, and there's some kind of sauce on the side to dip them in, and his brain finally decides to be logical. Or entirely illogical, as bursting into sudden inconsolable tears over carrots might just be the most ridiculously foolish thing he's ever done, but here he is.]

[He brings one hand, then both to his mouth, to his whole face, and he makes a terrible, plaintive little sound and sinks right back into the same crouch he'd been in in the bathroom. His knees protest, a little, but he's too busy not breathing.]

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[bass drop] and everytime we kiss i swear i could fly,

yeets them both

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