ɪɴʙᴏx [ᴇxᴘɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ]

[chemex]

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[murderingjustice]

Nuh-- [He begins, voice slurred and incoherent. Akechi really wants to lean away from Akira, avoid touch of any kind. He's that uncomfortable.]

Don't.. It's fine. Just [He pauses, tilting his head side to finally look at Akira. His eyes are red and so tired.] help me up?

[chemex]

It's. Not fine,

[But he does shift out from under him and carefully take his arm to help him up.] Where...? [He sees where he's shielding, where his hand is pressed to his side, but he can't be sure exactly where he was shot.]

[murderingjustice]

[For a moment there Akechi just stays still, breathing slowly and harshly as he prepares himself for the next step. It takes a lot of strength and will power from him to perform even the simplest moves. Slowly, he reaches out to take Akira's arm and pushes himself up.

God. Just that is enough to make his vision go white as if he was going to pass out.] On my side.. [He breathes out, leaning his entire weight on Akira.] Left side. Chuuya took the bullet out.

[chemex]

[Akira carefully shifts his weight to accommodate for Akechi's, bracing with his feet planted. He nods, mindful of his left side, and pulls his right arm over his shoulders.]

Okay. Walk as best you can, and lean on me. [He's very clipped in how he talks, focused on the stairs and getting Akechi up them. Curse this place for not having an elevator, anyway.]

[murderingjustice]

[The inn really isn't all that accessible. He'll so file the complaints later and go full Karen on the management. If he makes it through this shitty ordeal. Because, fuck, suddenly walking is the hardest thing he's ever done in his life.

Cursing, through his teeth, Akechi takes slow, dragging and agonizing steps -- climbing up the stairs. Although he pauses before they even make it halfway through to take a deep breath. Fuck, he feels like throwing up already. ]

Shit. [Meanwhile he knows he shouldn't be moving so much when injured, his wound still fresh and hold back together by the sutures made by Chuuya, but he still pushes forward. The sooner they're back in their room, the sooner he can rest.]

[chemex]

Take it easy, we'll get there.

[He's letting Akechi set the pace, supporting him when he isn't moving and helping to leverage him when he is. It's slow progress, but progress all the same, and even not being shot and bleeding Akira feels tension ease from his shoulders when they reach the top of the stairs.]

[murderingjustice]

Shut. Up. [He groans, voice pained and strained. It takes probably about thrice as long as it normally would for them to make it to the top of the stairs. Akechi is out of breath, his feet wobbly and he is clinging on Akira as if his life depended on it. If he was any less proud he'd ask Akira to carry him..]

Okay. [Just end of the hall, right? He can do this. After another brief pause he keeps going, feeling his wound scream at every step.] Keys. Hurry.

[chemex]

Way ahead of you. [He'd somehow managed to get his keys while they climbed the top step, jangling them as they approach the door. He unlocks it with one hand, turns the knob, and boots the door open, shuffling them inside and immediately snagging a chair to let Goro sit.]

[And once he's sitting, Akira is in motion again, taking off his own shoes, shutting the door, and getting a variety of things that he brings back to him. Two bowls of water, bandages (from where?), a small first aid kit, and after a beat of looking at how pale Akechi was, he pulls a lined trash bin over.]

[He points to it.] That's if you need to puke. Can you take your shirt off, or do you need me to?

[murderingjustice]

[Another pained groan leaves from him when he's ushered inside. The weight shifting off his feet to his lower body as he sits down hits him like a hot flare, burning through his body]

Fuuck. [It's awful. There just isn't a comfy way to sit. His breathing is ragged and pitiful as he watches Akira to shuffle around, gather the various items. He shakes his head a little at the question, struggling to keep his face as straight as possible.]

Can't lift my arms. [a pause.] Painkillers?

[chemex]

[He pads off again to the bathroom, coming back out with a bottle, and without his glasses.] Scale of one to ten?

[murderingjustice]

[What do you think?? Or so he'd scream if he could. But instead he lowers his head and closes his eyes.]

...eight. [More like ten, to be honest. But he's not going to admit that. He can take this.]

I got the wound treated already. Chuuya-san is pretty handy at these things. I just need-- [pause. his voice is so quiet as he keeps pressing on his side. It feels so hot and wet.] a shower. Or something.

[chemex]

[He moves closer, crouching and reaching out to set his hands-- on Akechi's thighs, just above his knees, telegraphing the movement in case he can't handle the contact.]

Let me try something. [He closes his eyes, leaving one hand on Akechi's knee and bringing the other to his face in a familiar motion. He swipes his hand across his eyes, leaves his hand there, and then swipes a few more times before he opens them, not quite looking at Goro for a moment.] Sarasvati. [He closes his eyes again, mumbling a healing spell and letting it bathe Goro in a figurative glowing green.]

[It's not obvious how stressed he is, but hooboy this is more than ample emotional duress for Persona usage. Looking slightly worn when he next opens his eyes, he looks up to meet Goro's.] Did that do anything? [He doesn't expect Diarahan to completely heal a bullet wound, by any means.]

[murderingjustice]

[The contact is almost too much. His expression twists in discomfort and all he wants to do is pull away, but there's really no escape from this pain. With his eyes closed Akechi can only focus on evening out his breathing, fighting against the urge to retch himself empty. But then a familiar soothing shower washes over him and he immediately recognizes it as Diarahan. Thank Yaldabaoth for personas.

The healing spell lifts worst of the pain. No longer is he engulfed in the hot, shearing pain and the color slowly returns to his face. His breathing is still heavy and ragged but at least it doesn't feel like he's about to die with each breath.

Akechi sits still for a half of a beat, before he leans forward -- quietly wincing at the dull ache as the skin around his wound is pulled, and buries his face in Akira's hair.]

Thank you. [His voice is barely louder than a whisper.

And now that his world is not painted by the agonizing pain he can turn his attention to Akira. He can't see his face from this angle but he observes his partner's body language, reading into the way his shoulders are hunched and the stress within his frame. He and Kotone had came up with a hypothesis about the nature of their powers here. One would need to put themselves in great danger for their Persona to manifest. So, to think that Akira was able to reach his here...

Yeah, the thought makes him want to laugh but all he can muster is an amused huff in his hair.] It's fine, Akira.

[chemex]

[He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding from the point Akechi folded forward into his hair, skimming his hands up the outsides of his thighs to carefully wrap around the back of his hips and set his head against Goro's knees.]

[He chews over a few things to say, and ultimately doesn't settle on any of them, just making a soft sound of general disagreement.]

[murderingjustice]

[Akira doesn't need to say anything. The silence tells him more than enough, really. It's awful and gnaws another hole within his soul.

He allows them to stay there in the position for a moment, breathing in Akira's scent and waiting for the lash of anger that just doesn't come. Eventually the pressure around the wound becomes too much and Akechi has to withdraw.]

I need to clean up. Help me?

[chemex]

[His head is a mess of things he wants to say, but he sticks on each of them and trips up, staying silent instead. "What if it hadn't been fine?" "What if someone else had called me at work to tell me you were dead?" "It's only fine because you'll be okay,"]

["It's not fine at all."]

[His eyes get hot despite being closed, and he scrunches them closed tighter as Akechi sits up. Releasing his hips, Akira sits back on his haunches and nods. He doesn't dare look back up at him yet, instead standing and dusting off his pants needlessly. He struggles for a moment, starting to walk away and stopping at least three times before he manages to unstick his mouth long enough to actually talk.] Bath or shower?

[murderingjustice]

[Akira might not face him but that doesn't mean Akechi doesn't see him. This quietness is somehow making him feel worse about his condition. It's like a slap to his face, really highlighting the consequences of his actions.

A soft sigh escapes from him when Akira moves, both relieved and and pained. ]

..Bath. [he agrees eventually. Anything to keep him from standing.

Then, with trembling fingers he begins to unbutton his shirt, starting from collar and clumsily moving down.]

[chemex]

[He's trying to avoid making you feel bad, here, Akechi--]

[He reaches out, telegraphing the motion and stopping just short of actually touching him.] Stop, I'll help you. Let me run the bath.

[A beat, and he sinks back into a crouch, not sitting down fully so he can get up easier.] ...please. [He needs to help him with this. He needs Goro to understand that-- he's not okay, he's freaked the fuck out by once again being force-fed the mortality of everyone he cares about, but since Akechi is okay, in a manner of speaking, he needs permission to help him recover. To be a part of seeing him heal.]

[murderingjustice]

[This is starting to remind him from the last time he was injured. Although a broken finger cannot hold a candle to his current state, fever or no fever. But back then Akira had been so determined to take care of him through the night. And honestly? Akechi doesn't know what to do with that. It makes him feel weak and vulnerable.

A failure.

He doesn't want to meet Akira's stressed gaze.[

No. [He swats the air clumsily.] I told it's fine. I can do this.

[chemex]

[He shies away immediately, makes a quiet sound of acknowledgment, and walks away. He stays in the bathroom while the water heats, and then while the tub fills, wringing his hands and pacing in the tiny bathroom. It's fine, he said. Goro told him it's fine. So it's fine.]

[They don't have any towels that aren't white. They're going to stain. At least they're probably both pretty good at cleaning blood stains.]

[It takes about a total of five minutes for the tub to fill once the water is warm-- warm, but not hot, it's going to sting regardless. It's a small tub, so he'll have to be a little scrunched, but as long as he's submerged it should be soothing enough. It'll loosen any dried blood and help relax cramped muscles, and Goro probably wants to wash his hair. Akira rummages through the cabinet where Goro's fancy products are kept, puts a few choices in the corner of the lip of the tub, and picks his glasses back up, putting them back on his face before he steps back out into the hallway.]

[He doesn't actually come up with anything to say, just makes a soft hum of sound and tosses his head toward the bathroom door.]

[murderingjustice]

[That... Might've been unnecessarily harsh on his part. Akechi realizes that immediately when Akira moves away to get the bath ready. Gritting his teeth together he returns to the task of undressing which... goes as well as you'd expect. It's a slow and tedious process, but once Akira's back he's actually gotten his buttons undone and is in middle of awkwardly trying to shake the shirt off.

But now that his shirt is open there's a clear view to neatly wrapped bandage over his lower torso, covering his entire abdomen. And on the left side, below his ribcage is a hint of red, blooming through the white of the wrapping like a small flower.

Kicking his shoes off violently Akechi looks up at Akira, feeling his chest tightening a little at the sight of glasses. He doesn't say anything.

Instead he extends his arm out, asking for Akira's help to get up.]

[chemex]

[It's fine-- it's. It's fine. Akira knows how much Goro values his agency, his freedom, how hard it is for him to not see help offered as a suggestion he's weak or incapable. It's reflexive in the same way Akira's own offers to help regardless are. They're working on it.]

[He grits his teeth as his eyes immediately fall on the faint, but still bright bloom of red under his left ribs, flexing his fingers restlessly at his sides until Goro holds his arm out. He follows the motion behind his lenses instead of staring at the bandages, and moves forward to help him, but stops just short of actually touching him, again. He looks from his arm to Akechi's face, just for a moment, trying to work out in his head how to help him with minimal damage to either of them. Without hurting Akechi's pride, without chipping further away at his own damnable fragility over the subject. He clenches his jaw further, so much his temples ache, turning back to his arm and opting to stoop under it and loop it over his shoulders, similarly to how he'd gotten them up the stairs.]

[Words don't even begin to surface as things to be said, at this point.]

[murderingjustice]

[Not what he planned but there's no protest from him as Akira carefully pulls him up. Akechi takes a sharp breath and hangs his head low, leaning his body almost respectfully against.

Ok. He counts to three in his mind before gently nudging Akira, moving towards their bathroom.]

[chemex]

[And up they go. He keeps his opposite hand at Akechi's shoulder to avoid coming anywhere near the wound, and focuses on the bathroom and getting them to it with the same single-minded intensity he did the stairs. The shift in temperature and humidity as he opens the bathroom door is hopefully pleasant, and he shuffles to set Goro down on the lip of the tub, taking an immediate step away from him.]

[It takes him a second and a few false starts to speak.] Um. Let me know what to help you with.

[murderingjustice]

[The warm humidity of the bathroom feels good against against his skin, making the bath just appear more appealing and inviting. Without saying a word he allows Akira to position him on the edge of the tub, hands griping tightly on the porcelain.

In a way he appreciates that Akira isn't being pushy here, and instead waits for Akechi to take his time. Swallowing air, he keeps his head lowered, fighting back the sting of humiliation.]

With the rest. [He's still wearing his pants and he honestly would like to avoid moving his lower body as much as possible. Not to mention the bandage.]

Please.