stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

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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. ]

[It's definitely longer-- he had taken to holding his breath for the duration of the time it took to reach the wall, at one point, and the time stretches a few seconds longer with the extra steps Akira can take before the wall bonks Akechi onto the landing and he just keeps walking, circling the couch to sit down.]

[He hums, because he has a sinking suspicion that is entirely too easy, but he can't really think too hard about what could have changed during the day that could stretch their distance. There's a pretty glaringly obvious concept, but he won't voice it, and he quietly hopes Akira won't, either.]

Do you want to start where you've left off? [With X-Folders, he means.]

Yeah. [ Akira sets it up to where he'd left off, which is still pretty early on in the season. He settles down on the couch after a moment, propping his chin up on his hand as he watches the credits roll. ]

It's nice, though. It means you can have a little privacy, if I can go downstairs without you. [ And vice versa, but Akira doesn't know how much Akechi wants to go sit downstairs with Sojiro and sip coffee like he did before the entire social circle of the Phantom Thieves knew that Akechi had killed Wakaba. ]

[He's quiet, but lets that statement hang in the air for a while, mulling it over.]

If you ever want some of your own, [He offers after a while, during a point no one is speaking on screen for a bit.] ...just let me know. I can sit in the booth against the wall, or at the bar, and just read, to not bother Sakura.

...Sure. I really do like your company, though. [ When it isn't stressing Akechi out to the point of tears. ]

Ah. I meant to get you another futon...

[He hasn't cried again since last night, thank you. He folds one leg over the other and rests his chin in his hand, on the opposite side from the bruise, which is slightly visible again from the concealer being smeared all to hell with his fit earlier.]

I'll make do with the couch until I'm able to make other arrangements. [Feel free to note that he didn't dignify Akira's enjoyment of his company with a response, it was absolutely intended.]

[ Akira falls silent with a soft humming noise that isn't exactly an agreement or a disagreement, watching the episode. He messes around on his phone, periodically; every so often he gives his phone a smile, clearly responding to texts from everyone else. It isn't until there's mention of a shower in one of the episodes that Akira blinks, and-- ]

Oh. Did you want to go to the bath house tonight?

[Akechi, for his part, can't focus on the show at all. His mind is twisting and turning the situation around like a rubix cube, trying desperately to solve it in any capacity-- a single row of the same color would be fine. He thinks he dozed off at some point, Akira shifting for his phone at some point feeling like a more sudden gesture than it should have been, the sound of the old television filtering back in much louder than before.]

[He shifts how he sits, both feet on the floor and back against the couch, arms folded across his chest. He watches Akira smile at his phone, feels his stomach drop a little lower, for some reason. He turns back to watch the television, but none of the words are making sense, and then Akira is speaking from beside him, and it takes him a minute to turn his attention to him, a confused frown on his face.]

...come again? [His brain didn't register he was being spoken to quickly enough to process Akira's question as words.]

[ Akira has been around Futaba long enough to recognize a dissociative moment, so he just waits until Akechi refocuses. He can't say he blames him. ]

The bath house. There's not a shower here, so... [ Given that Akechi has had both a long day, a long morning, and a long preceeding night before, Akira figures he'll want to be actually clean and not just... conceal, don't feel, mostly because there comes a certain point where the makeup can't hide the misery.

And it's always better to be clean. ]

[His posture sags a little at the mention, that's how incapable of hiding his interest in being clean he is. He closes his eyes over, almost smiling, and nods.]

...I'd appreciate it. [He leaves his eyes closed, and he could fall asleep, really. His expression pinches, and he folds himself up like a little origami crane, tucking his legs sideways onto the couch and laying on his side.] If I fall asleep, just wake me up if you need something, [He's not even going to bother trying to watch.] ...questions, or whathaveyou. [He waves at the TV.] About the show.

Sure. I'll wake you up when it'll be less crowded. [ The after dinner rush... more or less. Akira watches Akechi curl up for a moment, then focuses in on the television -- or seems to.

He's actually paying pretty close attention to the exact moment Akechi might fall asleep out of the corner of his eye. ]

[It's startlingly obvious, actually. He always holds so much tension in his body he doesn't even realize, that when he finally actually drifts off he's a bit like a puppet cut of its strings with the way he just relaxes despite how tightly curled he's made sure he is. That's probably part of why he did it, really. That and the fact that he's trying very hard to take up as little space as he can on the couch.]

[He thinks he remembers something like this happening when he was younger, too. Watching the X-Folders in a nearby cafe where he had just enough change to order an iced tea, his feet dangling off the stool he'd parked himself on at the bar to not take up a whole table, and he'd fallen asleep watching because it was late. His mother, frenzied when he hadn't come home after three hours (she was always meticulous to have the men she brought home gone within two, so Akechi didn't have to stay away from home late into the night), found him and scolded him, but it was one of the only times he remembered her scooping him up and carrying him home.]

[It was a nice thing to remember and dream about, for once.]

[ Akira waits for awhile, surveying Akechi out of the corner of his eye, before he grabs the blanket again. He drapes it over Akechi, careful not to wake him -- and the fact that he even remotely succeeds is really testament to how exhausted Akechi is -- and then gently moves the space heater a little closer and turns the volume down.

Eventually, when Akechi wakes up, he'll find that Akira is flipping through one of his text books, still on the couch, while the X-Folders plays at a significantly reduced volume. ]

[He sleeps for the better part of an hour before he stirs at all, opening his eyes and staring unfocused at the television for a while. He's not really awake, and he winds up burrowing further under the blanket Akira has put over him and almost wholly disappearing under it for another twenty minutes, anyway.]

[Exhausted, indeed.]

[He's used to waking up to an alarm or a nightmare, so it's bizarre to wake up naturally after a wholeass fuckin' nap, though he's somehow not as disoriented as he might have figured he would be under these circumstances. He uncurls from where he'd become nearly spherical on the couch under the blanket, his hair an absolute disaster from the way he'd folded under the blanket and then moved back out from under it, even if he didn't shift that much otherwise, and he looks at the blanket before anything else.]

...you did this last night, too. [It's a statement, not a question, because he knows Akira is still somewhere within earshot, even if he hasn't looked for him just yet.]

...You'll get upset if I tell you why. [ Because the truth is, it feels like Akechi just needs someone to take care of him. Someone who will keep caring about him, even if he tries to push them away, even if he doesn't deserve it.

Neither of them have that kind of selfless, parental love that Akira has heard about; the kind of love that Akira can see in Sojiro, could see in Wakaba. It's kind of a foreign concept for Akira, and he imagines it must be even worse for Akechi, who had a mother that must have done her best to care, for awhile.

Akechi said he wanted to be needed, but Akira feels the same. It's arrogant of him to say that Akechi needs him specifically, but -- he could, Akira thinks. Akechi could need him, and Akira could need him, and they could need each other.

It'd be a nice idea, to take care of someone like that. ]

Also, you left your shoes on. [ Which is said with a little amusement, mostly to detract from the sheer overemotion that ran through Akira's head all at once over one simple statement.

But ugh, Akechi is cute when he sleeps. ]

[He grumbles a noncommittal sound as he sits up, rubbing his hands across his face and pausing for a moment to make sure he hadn't left a concealer smudge across the couch from his face. He hadn't, probably because the concealer had mostly been rubbed off already by then, anyway. He can hazard a few guesses as to why Akira had taken the time to cover him with a blanket-- and move the space heater closer, he noticed in a groggy haze --but he opts to not think too hard about them, mostly because Akira was correct in assuming he'd get upset about it.]

[For as much as he wanted to be needed, and needed to be looked after, besides, he would (and had) sooner die than admit to the latter, or the former again.]

[He notices he's still wearing his shoes about the same time Akira mentions it, frowning at his lap and shifting his legs out from underneath of him to toe off his shoes in dull embarrassment.] ...I'll have your couch cleaned sometime.

Edited 2021-03-04 03:55 (UTC)

It's fine. It came with the room. I bet-- [ And Akira reaches down between the cushions, fishes around for a moment, and then produces a single ancient coffee bean, slightly dusty. Likely from a 00s vintage. ]

Yeah. You really don't have to worry about that one. [ Akira offers him a smile, then stands up, stretching slowly. ]

Did you sleep okay last night?

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