stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[ Akira follows Akechi, content to let him lead the way. Akira doesn't really need anything -- the few things he picks up are clearly things meant for other people; snacks to replenish the supply in his room because even if they aren't the Phantom Thieves, Yusuke still needs Pretz or he expires; a set of salonpas patches because Ryuji has been running low; a charm of the mascot that succeeded Buchimaru-kun for Makoto. It's only because his mind is wandering that he winds up with things in his hands at all, because he really has no reason to be buying anything.

He just... might as well. ]

Oh. If you want anything other than curry for dinner, we should grab it here.

[He doesn't put too much thought into claiming a hair brush, just picks up a few and runs his thumb over the bristles for a minute before going for a round brush with thin plastic bristles, and he barely even looks at the toothbrushes before claiming one, pausing.]

Should I get toothpaste, or is it acceptable I use what's already present? [Is sharing toothpaste weird? He has probably never had a sleepover or really any sort of situation that involved running into the ins and outs of sharing toothpaste.]

[Thinking about dinner, he realizes again he hasn't eaten and should, but he is entirely lacking in any sort of appetite. He stares blankly at his hair brush and toothbrush, mouth quirking.] ...curry is probably fine, [Is all he can think to say.]

It's fine with me. [ Akira has... very few boundaries with sharing things or physical contact, thanks to his friends and his general nature, so he's pretty sure Akechi is the only one who would be upset by sharing things or being forced to share a bed for warmth and it's honestly tragic that Akechi was brought back to life in March when it was getting warm and there weren't convenient excuses like that. ]

Cool. I don't mind cooking whatever you want, but I'm best at curry. [ For obvious reasons. He can make a mean tamagoyaki, though. ]

[Lucky for Akira, Akechi is the sort who likes to be very warm when he sleeps, and until it starts to actually get pretty warm to hot outside, he won't easily achieve that living in an attic without proper insulation.]

[He frowns at his hairbrush.] I already requested you not make special exceptions for me.

C'mon, Mister Famous Food Blogger. Don't you wanna try my famous oyakodon? [ The answer to "famous with who" is that it's one of Morgana's favorite dishes, because Akira might be reasonably flush with cash but not enough to buy sushi for every meal. ]

[His expression pinches.] ...I don't care for oyakodon overmuch, actually. [Because of course he doesn't.]

No? I make a mean kitsune udon. Futaba wanted me to make it so she could make fun of Yusuke, but it was actually pretty good. [ You didn't ask to hear about his friends, but you're going to hear about them to distract you from your self-imposed angst, Akechi. ]

But curry's fine. I still haven't gotten tired of it. [ Eating it for breakfast was kind of weird, though. ]

[Let him angst, okay. It's fine. He hums tunelessly, bouncing the hairbrush in his hand while he mulls over anything else he needs, and then pivots abruptly.]

No, I think this is fine for now. [Except on the way around the store to get to the counter he picks up a bag of baby carrots. For absolutely no reason other than the fact that he will eat those and nothing else if you allow him to.]

[ He's going to cut the carrots into little stars if you let him. Actually, he'll do it either way. ]

Sure. [ Akira pays for it without missing a beat, taking the bag of his gifts for everyone and letting Akechi take the other. He digs in the bag once he's outside, and produces a pair of gloves. They're not super fancy -- they're convenience store gloves, after all, just pressed leather and a thin lining, but they're not bad. ]

Since I'm not giving yours back.

[He didn't watch Akira in the store, because he didn't figure he had to. So the gloves catch him completely off-guard, and he gasps, recoiling and looking for about four seconds like he might cry again. He doesn't-- instead he just snatches the gloves and shoves them into his own bag, his shoulders bunched up around his ears again.]

I have a pair of gloves that are perfectly fine, I replaced that pair.

[ Akira didn't expect a reaction quite that over the top, but he supposes Akechi never does anything by halves. ]

Well, when you win against me, you can give those ones back. [ Akira offers him a smile that's a little too gentle for the situation, but it's only because Akira is trying to restrain himself from reaching out to hug Akechi again. Not in public; not yet, not yet, not yet.

But one day, maybe. ]

[Look, Mr. Sweetness, he's not used to honest forms of appreciation. He's had several half-meltdowns in the span of not enough hours, he's allowed to be a little reactive. The smile just makes him pinch inward further, and he looks away.]

You make no sense.

Maybe I just don't make sense to you. [ This is patently untrue; Ryuji, Yusuke, and Makoto have all told him the same exact thing, but under less frustrated circumstances. ]

Huh. At least I haven't had to pretend to be your boyfriend yet. [ He says it in this vague way that implies that it's something he has experience with, and then he opens the door to Leblanc before any further conversation can be had on the subject, since it's still the middle of the day and the store is open with one of the regular elderly couples occupying a booth. ]

We'll eat upstairs. [ Akira offers, both to Sojiro and to Akechi, as he carefully balances his bag with two plates of curry. He doubts Akechi wants to hang out downstairs, in a hoodie, with his hair a mess and his concealer smeared from the amount of times he'd dragged his hands down his face, in front of the couple who are apparently discussing how kids these days will be the death of politics. ]

I thought that much was blatantly obvious,

[He's following, all up until that specific string of words, and he stops, looking mortified and also ruffled beyond words, just inside the doorway of the cafe. He gets nudged along when Akira keeps moving, bumped forward at the shoulders from the way he's leaned back on his heels by the invisible wall (he'd like to blame Lavenza, maybe, because the angle it feels like he's being pushed at is somewhat reminiscent of small hands pushing from below), giving Sojiro a harried, short bow on his way past. He offers the same to the elderly couple, because it wouldn't do to be rude, and he shuffles a little faster to evade being pushed up the stairs.]

Why would you even joke about something like that, Kurusu.

It's not a joke. [ Akira seems so genuinely deadpan about it that it's hard to tell if it is, in fact, a joker or not. He turns a gaze onto Akechi once they're upstairs, setting down the plates of curry on the desk before he unpacks the contents of his bag next to his school bag. He's not fancy enough to try to wrap the gifts he gives people. ]

It's happened at least twice. Apparently I make a good fake boyfriend.

[A joker or not,]

[He stands as far from him as he knows he safely can, roughly (he's got about another foot he could move away, but better safe than smooshed), and just grimaces at him.]

Thank God I've never been put in that sort of scenario.

[He sits on the couch, neatly placing his hair and toothbrush beside his existing little line of items.]

It was usually to investigate something.

[ Akira doesn't settle down to eat immediately: he busies himself with a few other things first; watering the plant, turning on the space heater to combat the surprisingly chilly spring weather. He does finally sit at the desk to start in on his curry, which is at least better than sitting shirtless on his floor. ]

You never needed a pretend boyfriend to get you anywhere. [ It's said with a very faint undercurrent of wistfulness and -- fondness? It's hard to tell, and Akira prevents it from being dwelled on by shoving curry into his mouth inelegantly. ]

[Ankhface.png.]

I should certainly hope not. [He reaches out to claim his plate and is much slower and more deliberate in how he eats, but he's actually not even remotely mad about eating curry again. At all. He's kind of mad it's so good, really.]

[ Sojiro's curry is the best, scientifically and objectively speaking. It's a little bittersweet that Akechi is enjoying it now after everything, given that the recipe was partially from Wakaba, but from what Akira has known of Wakaba -- from Maruki's fake reality; from the memories in Futaba's palace -- he doubts she'd hold a grudge, either.

How old was Akechi when he killed her, even? It's a strange thing to think about.

There are so many things Akira wants to talk about; things he wants to ask. He's usually the sort of person who waits until it's the right time, who allows things to move forward naturally, but he'd done that last time and Akechi had died, so --

Before he knows it, they're done eating. ]

If you don't mind moving your stuff, we can turn the couch so it's easier to see the television.

[Sixteen, probably, since he was at least that old when he first found the ability to use the Metaverse. Akechi, for his part, makes absolutely no effort to think about how old he was when he started killing people, and even less so thinking about Wakaba Isshiki, where he can afford it.]

[He takes a fair amount longer to finish his plate than Akira, and even then, he doesn't entirely finish it, mumbling an apology when he leaves a bit of food remaining. He doesn't eat much, probably never has, probably never will. He looks down to his little row of items, nodding absently and stooping to pick them up, lining them up beside the desk, instead. He doesn't say anything, just sort of... digesting, both the food and the situation, quietly.]

[After a moment's thought, he does pick up the hair brush and idly run it through his hair, though. Much better.]

[ Akira seems to be pretty used to moving the couch, given how easily he moves it. He doesn't scrape it either -- Sojiro would have a fit about the noise downstairs -- just picks it up by one end and moves it to where he wants it. To be fair, the frame isn't that heavy, but.

He moves like he's going to go downstairs to put their plates up, and then hesitates, rethinking it at the last moment. It's an adjustment, the fact that Akechi is tethered to him, and the amount of space they can put between them isn't quite enough for him to make it back to the kitchen... So he puts them on the table next to the banister, instead, alongside his journal.

Then it's just setting up his (rather ancient) DVD player with the generic rented box art of the X-Folders. ]

Does anyone ever believe him about the aliens?

[He moves like he's going to help, but winds up just kind of watching, instead, and then watches Akira pick up their plates and starts to follow, only to stop when he does.]

...I can take them, just stay there? [He moves to the plates and picks them up.] What would the fun be in me answering that? You'll have to watch.

Can you get all the way downstairs? [ It's not... that far, Akira supposes, if Akechi stays in a relatively small square footage, but they haven't tested the exact bounds of the link... Well, he supposes it's fine to try right now. The elderly couple probably won't notice anything, even if they're still there. ]

[He shrugs his shoulders, walking backward for a few steps and tossing his head, beckoning Akira without words. Walk with him to make sure he gets the dishes to the sink, hm? He pivots and takes the steps slowly, carefully sort of kicking the air gently before he actually tries to descend a step.]

[Assuming Akira came to stand at the top of the stairs, he makes it to the sink just fine, and stands there a moment as he lowers the plates. This feels like he got farther? He can't really tell. Does height apply? Maybe Akira is standing directly over him so it doesn't matter. He'll have to ask Sakura to try and determine the specifics of the distance allowed...]

[Meanwhile Sojiro peers around the counter at him while he gently dissociates with dirty plates in the sink, moves around him and offers him a pair of kitchen gloves with a quirk of one eyebrow. Akechi stares at them a solid four seconds before he takes them, thanks him, and cleans the plates with an embarrassed frown for just standing there staring at nothing in silence for a while. He sets the plates out to dry, replaces the gloves, and climbs the stairs again, still looking dazed.]

I think the distance changed.

[ Akira blinks. ] ...Stay there.

[ And he's backing up again -- leaving Akechi at the stairs and moving towards the bed. It's not a long space, but it's longer than they'd manage to separate previously, and it'd be no different now except that Akira gets almost the entire way to the bed before he sees the invisible force bump into Akechi. ]

... huh. Maybe it'll just... fade over time? [ That... seems too easy. ]

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