ɪɴʙᴏx [ᴇxᴘɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ]

[chemex]

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[murderingjustice]

[He's here to make sure you won't have a boring moment in your life.]

You are. [He mutters against Akira's shoulder, voice raw and and quiet. Another moment passes. Akechi takes deep breath and taps other's back lightly.]

Really. I'm done. You can let go now.

[chemex]

[He shifts his hands again, reaching around behind him and hugging him close for the briefest of seconds.]

...okay. [And he does-- releases him completely, but doesn't move away. He'll leave that to Akechi.] You good?

[murderingjustice]

[A frown appears to his face and he's about to lecture Akira being so damn clingy but then it registers that it's actually him who keeps holding on the other. Lips drawn slightly back he pushes himself away from their embrace. His cheeks are flushed red from all the screaming, but outside of that it's like all the color has been drained from his face.]

Of course. [An ugly croak. Yeah, he's looking at Akira like the last few minutes didn't just happen.]

[chemex]

[He frowns, sagging into his usual horrendous posture and staying put.]

Okay. You gonna tell me what that was all about?

[murderingjustice]

[Akechi averts his gaze, focusing on the spot of the grass on their side rather than Akira's face.

'No', he almost says. He doesn't want to tell him a freaking thing but he knows Akira won't let it be if he stays silent.]

I was mad and needed to let out some steam. That's all.

[chemex]

[He nods.]

All right. You..., That's fine, you know? You can yell on me whenever. Just-- maybe don't. Do the smashing your head into things part? Whether it's my head or the ground. [He reaches out again, carefully smoothing down Akechi's hair.]

[murderingjustice]

I don't plan on getting a concussion if that's what you're-- Don't.

[He grunts and moves his head to the side. Now that all the adrenaline and tension is gone the pain from his injuries and ache from their brawl settles back in. Akira's touch doesn't hurt but it's uncomfortable enough to make him grimace a little]

How's your nose?

[chemex]

[He makes a face, rolling his eyes, but doesn't continue pawing.]

Bleeding, but it's fine. It's not broken, a nosebleed every so often is probably healthy, or something. What're the marks on your neck?

[murderingjustice]

[Don't make a face at him!! Akechi let's out an aggravated sigh, rolling his shoulders.]

I was in a fight. [Whiiiich isn't actually true. He couldn't do anything to Dazai while he toyed with Akechi.] It got messy.

[chemex]

[He nods.]

Figured. Anything other than the marks? ...did somebody try to choke you?

[murderingjustice]

Tch. [Akechi clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at him.]

Nothing so dramatic. The person I fought stole my gun and broke finger. [He raises his hand showing him the swollen finger in the makeshift cast. It's already gained darker color around the broken knuckle.] Another guy showed up and grabbed my neck. That's where the marks are from.

[chemex]

[He looks a little affronted.]

Somebody just. Grabbed your neck and broke your finger, and this is just completely fine to you? Jeez. [He reaches out for his hand.] ...can. Will you let me look at this?

[murderingjustice]

Fine? Of course no-- [His voice breaks just as he's about to raise it. His face twists in annoyance but he does offer his hand to him. Reluctantly, mind you.]

[chemex]

[Akira takes his hand carefully and gives him a smile, not touching the broken finger but looking at it.]

...so you're telling me somebody broke your finger and put welts on your neck in the shape of hands, but this is completely fine. You can't tell me you don't know what this looks like.

[murderingjustice]

[Luckily, it has started to grow numb around the swollen area, but it's still sore enough to make him bite down his lip.]

No, Akira. I don't know what it looks like. [His voice is dry and cold. He knows what you're implying here and he doesn't like it.]

Why don't you tell me.

[chemex]

[He glowers, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. Just to be a prick, he gently presses Akechi's broken finger between his own thumb and forefinger before leaving his hand flat for Akechi's to rest on or be removed.]

Torture, asshole.

[murderingjustice]

[Akechi hisses sharply at the sudden pressure as a hot pain flares up. And once Akira's done he withdraws his hand, giving him angry glare.]

Fuck you. Just because you got beaten up by some bastards doesn't mean this is the same.

[chemex]

God.

[He rubs his hands over his face roughly, sighing, and leaves his hands there a while. When he moves them, he looks tired, and doesn't make eye contact.] What do you want, Akechi? If we're done fighting and you're just gonna be a brat, maybe you ought to just go back to the Inn and rest. [He's certainly acting like a toddler in need of a nap.]

[murderingjustice]

[Alright, that was a low blow and even Akechi knows it. It's like there's this unspoken rule between them about not to talk what happened inside the integration room before Sae interrupted the officers. It's neatly placed right next to the subject called Shido.

But Akira raises a good question. What does he want. The fight has already left him, the fire's burnt out and he feels so beaten. Going back to the inn is the logical solution. At least there he could try to see if he could get a better medical attention than what he was able to give himself.]

I don't want your pity.

[chemex]

[He reaches into his own hair and pulls, seething.]

It's not-- Akechi. After all this time, do you honestly think me giving a shit is pity?

[murderingjustice]

[Akechi stares at Akira, taken a back by that outburst. Opens his mouth to answer him but then closes it, looking away.

He honestly doesn't know what to think of it... of this, whatever Akira is offering him. So he stays quiet.]

[chemex]

[He reaches out and takes Akechi's wrists, gently.]

It's not. Okay? It's not, and it never has been, and I just want to give a damn and be in your life and you make it so hard. [His voice is very small, and tired, and strained. He's too tenacious to give up but God does Akechi make it seem like the far, far easier option.]

[murderingjustice]

[He stays silent. Gaze slowly lowering to their hands and blinks. Akira isn't only one here who is feeling tired and small. Worse than that, Akechi doesn't feel like himself anymore. Not in this place, where he has no goal or course of action. He's aimless and lost.

Things were never this hard between him and Akira, were they? Their relationship had never been good or healthy but they knew where they stood and what their dynamic is. Here, in Aldrip, they don't even have that. And Akechi hates it. He hates being like this, weak and powerless. Looking for Akira constantly.]

I hate it here. [He eventually says, sounding so empty to match Akira's own exhaustion.]

[chemex]

[It hurts, actually. That Akechi is so out of sorts without a revenge bender to focus on, without something to kill, that they don't even know who or what they are. That he can't just-- fix it, like he's supposed to. That Akechi would absolutely rather go back to a reality where he's dead than deal with Akira's incompetence to make them a functional pair of rivals. Even a functional pair of friends.]

[His expression twists up and he shifts, abruptly, standing and throwing his head back to holler at the sky, hands balled into the fabric of his jeans. The sound breaks off and dies after a much shorter amount of time than Akechi's, and it wasn't half as loud, but-- Coming from Akira, it's a lot. He's breathing like he's just run a marathon when he looks back down, face screwed up like his stomach hurts.] Can I take you back to the Inn? Someone should set your finger.

[murderingjustice]

[Akira's hurt.

Akechi doesn't lift his gaze from the ground when he sits up and lets out a scream that feels like a punch to his gut. No, that's not right. More than that it awakens something in him, a terrible feeling that gnaws on his insides, grind and then spit out. When was last time he was here? Fearing for someone else's hurt. It's reminds him of the feeling that he believed he had left in his childhood. Moments frozen in time, abandoned and forgotten.

Fuck.

He doesn't mean to withdraw to himself but that's just what he does. Back curling and hands forms weak fists. Fuck, fuck fuck.]

Akira. [He says after a moment of silence and closes his eyes, trying to make sense of the insensible. His lips are parted as he breathes out, words forming on top of his tongue.] What do you want of me?