(you can pm me here or on plurk if you'd like to beforehand, but also if you'd just like to drop something at my doorstep with no preamble please do!!)
Akechi rolls onto his back, and now they're both staring up at the ceiling. His heart feels heavy in his chest, even without the blossoms springing to life every few minutes. ]
I don't really dream. Or... I suppose I should say I don't really remember my dreams. It's been that way for a while.
[ The blind idiot god holds him in its own slumbering embrace every night; reality is the dream they create together. There's not room for anything else. ]
When I do, it's more like remembering. I figure my subconscious occasionally needs to sift through what's happened to me, and that's why that happens.
[ A beat.
The thought occurs to him as he speaks it. ]
All I want is to remember, though. So perhaps you're right. We dream of the things we want most.
It surprises me your answer isn't more sentimental.
[That he doesn't dream of Rumi. A life lost. A world without Maruki Takuto warping the edges of reality.
It's a shame they can't see the stars.]
But I shouldn't be at this point. You are as logical and rational as you are nostalgic.
[Akechi shifts under the covers - drags a blanket up to cover his neck. He swallows down petals creeping up his throat, choking him into silence and-]
When I was a child, I dreamed often. My imagination was active and there was little that didn't consume my thoughts, no matter where I was.
[A family. A king. A home. A mother back in his arms.]
That went away in time, of course. Now there's little I dream about and when I do, it's predictable and easily forgotten.
[He can't die here. He can't die now and the vines that dig into his lungs guide him on where to speak. He has to kill Shido. Swallow his pride. Dig his heels in. Keep his eyes fixated on ten cracks he can't see.]
Until recently - around the same time as this disease struck. Now, I find myself dreaming of you.
[ Difficult to tell if he just feels touched by that statement, or if he's beginning to develop arrythmia to go along with every other horrid symptom dragging him slowly toward death. ]
You dream of me, huh...
[ He may regret asking this. He's certain that the answer will be brutal. Akechi dreams of their battles, of how to ambush him in the true reality. Of getting one over on him, of winning, of having the pleasure of watching the life drain from his eyes and leaving nothing but a corpse no one will remember behind.
[A king. A castle. Fights. Battles. A death staining his hands and the elation from it, but more than anything-]
Of you making breakfast. As ridiculous as that sounds, I suppose that's where the absurdity of dreams comes in.
[More than anything. A shared moment with a record player in the background - different music, it's not always jazz. That's fine too. It's quiet. He wants quiet.]
Every morning gives me deja vu lately. I'm getting sick of it.
[ That's unexpected, but when Maruki considers it, it makes sense. It's one of the most consistent routines in their life together here. He imagines the same would hold true in any other reality where they could spend enough time together. ]
And you think those dreams reflect what you want in reality?
[ And then, an attempt at levity– ]
If it's about updating my breakfast menu, feel free to tell me.
I would sooner update who's allowed to attend over the menu itself. I don't care what you make. It's all acceptable.
[But he deeply despises the amount of people who flock around the table and counter during those early morning hours. Kurusu notwithstanding.
But it goes silent after - for a beat, then two. This is pathetic. Sentimental. Rubs him wrong every possible way and he keeps his gaze affixed to the ceiling above them. Counts the cracks. The pieces of wood. The lines in between.
He wants, more than anything, those quiet breakfasts in a dimly lit nook - crossword puzzle under his hand, music in his ears and-]
Do you recall the wishes of those whose ideal worlds you created? It was a rather short affair - your lack of a memory over the matter would be understandable.
[ Maruki's quiet at that for too long to be coincidental. What he can actually remember is one thing, but what he can infer when he combines it with his knowledge of how that power was about to work is something else entirely.
He listens carefully to Akechi's breaths. No chance he's fallen asleep in the silence; they're both still breathing short, labored.
The feverish ache in his muscles radiates as he uncurls one of his arms from around his own chest and flops it along the pillows he and Akechi both rest against as they stare up at the ceiling. He bends his elbow, brushes his fingers over the top of Akechi's head, just the ghost of a touch. ]
[Arguing is wasted energy and they both need to cling to what remains of it. He doesn't retort with a 'just answer' - Maruki will. If he wants to reason, so be it.
He can't die, no matter how heavy his tongue feels in his mouth. Maruki knows his darkest urges, his most protected secrets, and there's only a few things left that remain - all cycling around the man gently touching the top of his head. He can barely feel it.]
Because I want to know if you recall mine. I'm sure you must. While your intent was to dangle me in front of Kurusu at the expense of my own unwanted life-
You did attempt to give me what I desired as well.
[A chance to be with him. To play chess. To have a normal life after years of ensuring it could never, ever be possible.]
[ Even hearing it from Akechi makes him wince like he's been hit. Dangling his life in front of Akira – it horrifies him for both of their sakes. Akechi's life is his own, and his death, too–
And Maruki turns his face into the pillow, covers it as he coughs deeply, sticky sweet pea petals catching at the corners of his mouth.
It takes some time for him to clear his airway, to lift his head again to be heard. ]
If I tell you, will you tell me the wish that brought you here?
And in the end, it's irrelevant. Maruki knows Akechi remembers his wish despite insistence otherwise. It's not as if he hadn't tried to look into a heart lost in the depths of the Metaverse. Filled in gaps with Kurusu's perception to create something for the two of them. A hundred realities away, Akechi Goro wanted to end Maruki Takuto for it.
Funny how that wish isn't too far from the one that trapped him in this world by a different sort of madman.
Maruki's coughing. It makes Akechi clear his own hoarse throat.]
It depends on how satisfied I am with what you tell me.
[ Quiet falls over the bedroom once more. Their labored breathing, short coughs, the rustle of the blankets – that's all that breaks the silence for a long while.
The last thing he wants right now is to fight with Akechi. Neither of them have the energy for it, and even if they did– he wouldn't. Couldn't bring himself to, even if the most vile words were spat at his feet. His heart is too heavy, even without the flowering vines that wind its way around it.
But he has to answer. It's only fair. ]
If you had a wish in that reality, then you had to have been alive.
[ He doesn't even know if that's true. He doesn't even believe it. ]
I can't remember everything, but I do remember that. [ The moments with Akechi in that future are the sharpest in his mind. Everything else gets hazier the farther it gets away from a furious boy in a red scarf. ] I remember thinking it couldn't be simpler. A chess match with a friend.
A vivid, unassuming desire in the final moments of his life. Hearing is the last to go, but he knows from an experience he barely remembers that delusion remains to the bitter end. Akechi couldn't hear a thing.
But he remembers-
Thinking how nice it would be to finish that tied chess match in a cozy diner booth.
It sounds like a hospital. His eyes open to reveal it's not. Only the wheezing breaths of a man getting worse by the second. Akechi's own haggard breath heavy in his chest. Maruki says he was alive. That's not true.
He doesn't argue because it doesn't matter what some half assed version of himself failed at.
It's silent and his eyes shut again. The rhythmic touch against his skull more soothing than it should be.]
My dreams have never been lofty, yet they've been further out of reach than my revenge. A man's death is easier to attain than a chess match. A dream to have met someone sooner impossible enough to pull me into a separate world.
[And with that short confession-]
Foolish and childish as all those wishes have been-
[His chest hurts. His throat's sore.]
I don't think I would have minded a few years of normalcy by your side instead.
[ And there it is. Confirmation of what Maruki probably could have guessed, not knowing what he does about Akechi and Akira's relationship. Knowing that Akechi has said it to him, too – curiosity about what would have happened if they met sooner.
They once discussed wishes to change what's been done in the past and wishes to change what will be done in the future. He should have known Akechi's fell into the latter, despite the fact that he lives without regrets.
But then the conversation shifts, and–
Maruki can hardly believe he heard it. Thinks for a moment that his feverish mind imagined it, but even at his most desperate, he wouldn't dare to dream that Akechi would say something like that. ]
A few years...
[ It wouldn't be enough time.
It would never, ever be enough time.
He shifts his hand to card fingers deeper through Akechi's hair, stroking through it properly now, still just as slow and methodical. ]
I could give you that. Without using my ability, I mean.
[ He can't. Akechi would have to give up the singular goal that has kept him upright through such an intensely lonely, painful life, and he won't. It's not possible. ]
[He doesn't. He won't take it. Even if Maruki provided him an out - a way to escape this personal torment he's trapped himself in, he could never take it.
But it doesn't change the truth. It doesn't stop vines from uncurling. Akechi Goro wants a few more years with Maruki. Akechi Goro doesn't want it at all. Every bit of it is real.]
In all the worlds where our paths crossed sooner, in realities where we were forced together in my youth-
It felt like I may have been happy.
[He's so tired. So hot. His eyes stay closed and touch the touches against his head.]
[ A loaded gun to his head in this moment would be less heartbreaking than that statement, and that question.
Maruki considers it in wheezing silence for a while. Akechi's hair sifts through his fingers. Those words came out a little less rough, a little less pained.
A secret truth shared.
Maruki couldn't possibly love him more. ]
Lately, I've wondered if I'm meant to ever be happy.
[ I'm not a happy person, he told Dolph. My happiness was with Rumi.
And it wasn't a lie – it was, in fact, part of what caused the thorns hooked into his airway to retract, no matter how much of his own blood he had to swallow in the relief.
But... ]
I think I understand now, though. Even if I'm still in pain, even if the worst things of all still happened to me...
[ To both of us. ]
In the realities where I have you by my side, I'm not lonely.
[ Whether Rumi is with him or not. Whether Akechi's mother is alive or not.
They at least aren't lonely.
Trapped in a false reality against his will and toyed with regularly by a force too great to overcome, they at least aren't lonely. ]
That's what makes all the difference.
[ Happiness isn't possible when he's on his own. Holed up in a shoebox apartment with nothing but his own research to keep him company, or in an ivory tower watching over all of reality– it's nothing but pain for him in the end, isn't it?
It's the hardest thing of all to realize, when he knows everything he has here is temporary and he will return to nothing at all:
Maruki isn't meant to be alone.
He's not alone now, the fever washing over him, making him close his eyes and let his body curl toward Akechi's. His forehead touches one bony shoulder. ]
In those lives, I think I was happy, too. Isn't that something?
And maybe, at the core of all of this, that's why he hates Maruki Takuto.
He isn't lonely in their shared home. Not in his locked room, under the heated covers of a kotatsu, sitting at the farthest edge of a kitchen bar.
He isn't lonely on rare nights alone in that expansive house. Those phantom noises persist without him there - a record player's soft hum, feet that stop at his door, movement in a kitchen and chatter. Akechi listens for it instinctively. Searches for it when his memory has to fill in the gaps and finds himself waiting for it return.
He isn't lonely when they sit in a bath in silence, unleash vile words on a battlefield, pluck food off one another's plates or sip coffee before the sun rises. He isn't lonely in festivals and gatherings and parties because they both end up at the furthest fringes of them as the night goes on. They don't always talk, but Akechi always sees him. Maruki always looks his way.
He isn't lonely when a man sees him, only him, listens to him and hears him and doesn't chastise goals meant for him and lets Akechi Goro live as he shouldn't, stays by his side anyway.
He isn't lonely while his body is eaten alive, with a hand in his hair and head on his shoulder.
And he was never lonely - not for a single moment - until this man weaved himself into the deepest recesses of his life. Something that might have been happiness - now he understands, more than ever, what that sensation is in worlds where there's someone by his side.
And he is never lonely. He can't be lonely. It doesn't matter if he isn't lonely now because there's a world waiting that dictates its necessity.
He listens to every word - over his own wheezing breath and hacking coughs. Turns his head to hear those muffled comments. Ends up with hair pressing into his cheek - dark brown, soft, sweat making it stick to Akechi's skin, but he doesn't care. It's comfortable. He's not lonely. He's too strong to be lonely.
It's too warm. He can't stand it. He hates Maruki for it and-]
They were only dreams in the end, but they weren't bad ones. If I continue to imagine such worlds at night - it wouldn't make me unhappy.
[It's not a lie, but he'll pretend it is the second they're back to normal. A delirious ramble from an ill teenager an excuse neither will believe and they'll both abide by regardless.
Maruki's hair sticks to his eyelashes, so he shuts them. Presses his face against the man's skull to dislodge it. Finds he doesn't really care.]
I'm tired.
(frozen comment) sigh. go ahead. kill me in one shot
[ He's not breathing much easier, having said that, but– it's tolerable. The worst secret of all still festers in his trachea, his lungs, down to the very rot of his soul that he shares with the boy curled up with him.
Maybe he's imagining this conversation in his feverish delusions. It's the closest Akechi has come to approaching kindness in his words in a very, very long time.
It wouldn't make me unhappy.
That's as good as gold, isn't it? ]
Let's sleep.
[ His eyes are already closed, body heavy with exhaustion. There's no other alternative, but when presented with an inevitability, they both prefer to pretend it's something they're choosing. ]
Perhaps if we both imagine something like that tonight, we'll dream together. Stranger things have happened here, after all.
[Let's sleep - and Akechi wonders if Maruki recognizes the all too real possibility neither of them may wake up. That vines could strangle them under the weight of their secrets - it's not as if anything grand was stated here. Nothing new. Nothing truly unknown.
They could sleep. They could die. Akechi isn't upset at the possibility.
We'll dream together - he doesn't want that.
The collar of Maruki's shirt is the last thing he sees. The haunting thought of sharing some shitty, sentimental illusion is the last thought he has.
And when he dreams -
He sees a whole world open up - a mountainside bathhouse, a car ride up to it, flashes of popup cafes with limited edition drinks, Akechi swatting a hand trying to ruin his picture of it.
But it's suffocating. Worse than the nothing that normally fills his mind. More agonizing than a noose.
He craves it anyway. Grasps it anyway. Rips the dream back, even as his eyes crack open in the dead of night, with his own wheezing breath choking him. He drags the dream back throughout, even when he's awakened by coughs and gasps of someone under him. He doesn't remember laying here and-
He doesn't care. If they die, they die. Maruki can move. Leave. Talk. Find someone to spill his guts to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Akechi rolls onto his back, and now they're both staring up at the ceiling. His heart feels heavy in his chest, even without the blossoms springing to life every few minutes. ]
I don't really dream. Or... I suppose I should say I don't really remember my dreams. It's been that way for a while.
[ The blind idiot god holds him in its own slumbering embrace every night; reality is the dream they create together. There's not room for anything else. ]
When I do, it's more like remembering. I figure my subconscious occasionally needs to sift through what's happened to me, and that's why that happens.
[ A beat.
The thought occurs to him as he speaks it. ]
All I want is to remember, though. So perhaps you're right. We dream of the things we want most.
no subject
[That he doesn't dream of Rumi. A life lost. A world without Maruki Takuto warping the edges of reality.
It's a shame they can't see the stars.]
But I shouldn't be at this point. You are as logical and rational as you are nostalgic.
[Akechi shifts under the covers - drags a blanket up to cover his neck. He swallows down petals creeping up his throat, choking him into silence and-]
When I was a child, I dreamed often. My imagination was active and there was little that didn't consume my thoughts, no matter where I was.
[A family. A king. A home. A mother back in his arms.]
That went away in time, of course. Now there's little I dream about and when I do, it's predictable and easily forgotten.
[He can't die here. He can't die now and the vines that dig into his lungs guide him on where to speak. He has to kill Shido. Swallow his pride. Dig his heels in. Keep his eyes fixated on ten cracks he can't see.]
Until recently - around the same time as this disease struck. Now, I find myself dreaming of you.
no subject
You dream of me, huh...
[ He may regret asking this. He's certain that the answer will be brutal. Akechi dreams of their battles, of how to ambush him in the true reality. Of getting one over on him, of winning, of having the pleasure of watching the life drain from his eyes and leaving nothing but a corpse no one will remember behind.
But he has to know– ]
What sort of dreams do you have?
no subject
Of you making breakfast. As ridiculous as that sounds, I suppose that's where the absurdity of dreams comes in.
[More than anything. A shared moment with a record player in the background - different music, it's not always jazz. That's fine too. It's quiet. He wants quiet.]
Every morning gives me deja vu lately. I'm getting sick of it.
(frozen comment) no subject
And you think those dreams reflect what you want in reality?
[ And then, an attempt at levity– ]
If it's about updating my breakfast menu, feel free to tell me.
(frozen comment) no subject
[But he deeply despises the amount of people who flock around the table and counter during those early morning hours. Kurusu notwithstanding.
But it goes silent after - for a beat, then two. This is pathetic. Sentimental. Rubs him wrong every possible way and he keeps his gaze affixed to the ceiling above them. Counts the cracks. The pieces of wood. The lines in between.
He wants, more than anything, those quiet breakfasts in a dimly lit nook - crossword puzzle under his hand, music in his ears and-]
Do you recall the wishes of those whose ideal worlds you created? It was a rather short affair - your lack of a memory over the matter would be understandable.
(frozen comment) no subject
He listens carefully to Akechi's breaths. No chance he's fallen asleep in the silence; they're both still breathing short, labored.
The feverish ache in his muscles radiates as he uncurls one of his arms from around his own chest and flops it along the pillows he and Akechi both rest against as they stare up at the ceiling. He bends his elbow, brushes his fingers over the top of Akechi's head, just the ghost of a touch. ]
Tell me why you're asking before I answer.
(frozen comment) no subject
He can't die, no matter how heavy his tongue feels in his mouth. Maruki knows his darkest urges, his most protected secrets, and there's only a few things left that remain - all cycling around the man gently touching the top of his head. He can barely feel it.]
Because I want to know if you recall mine. I'm sure you must. While your intent was to dangle me in front of Kurusu at the expense of my own unwanted life-
You did attempt to give me what I desired as well.
[A chance to be with him. To play chess. To have a normal life after years of ensuring it could never, ever be possible.]
What you percieved to be my wish, that is.
(frozen comment) no subject
And Maruki turns his face into the pillow, covers it as he coughs deeply, sticky sweet pea petals catching at the corners of his mouth.
It takes some time for him to clear his airway, to lift his head again to be heard. ]
If I tell you, will you tell me the wish that brought you here?
(frozen comment) no subject
And in the end, it's irrelevant. Maruki knows Akechi remembers his wish despite insistence otherwise. It's not as if he hadn't tried to look into a heart lost in the depths of the Metaverse. Filled in gaps with Kurusu's perception to create something for the two of them. A hundred realities away, Akechi Goro wanted to end Maruki Takuto for it.
Funny how that wish isn't too far from the one that trapped him in this world by a different sort of madman.
Maruki's coughing. It makes Akechi clear his own hoarse throat.]
It depends on how satisfied I am with what you tell me.
(frozen comment) no subject
The last thing he wants right now is to fight with Akechi. Neither of them have the energy for it, and even if they did– he wouldn't. Couldn't bring himself to, even if the most vile words were spat at his feet. His heart is too heavy, even without the flowering vines that wind its way around it.
But he has to answer. It's only fair. ]
If you had a wish in that reality, then you had to have been alive.
[ He doesn't even know if that's true. He doesn't even believe it. ]
I can't remember everything, but I do remember that. [ The moments with Akechi in that future are the sharpest in his mind. Everything else gets hazier the farther it gets away from a furious boy in a red scarf. ] I remember thinking it couldn't be simpler. A chess match with a friend.
(frozen comment) no subject
He recalls it.
A vivid, unassuming desire in the final moments of his life. Hearing is the last to go, but he knows from an experience he barely remembers that delusion remains to the bitter end. Akechi couldn't hear a thing.But he remembers-
Thinking how nice it would be to finish that tied chess match in a cozy diner booth.
It sounds like a hospital. His eyes open to reveal it's not. Only the wheezing breaths of a man getting worse by the second. Akechi's own haggard breath heavy in his chest. Maruki says he was alive. That's not true.
He doesn't argue because it doesn't matter what some half assed version of himself failed at.
It's silent and his eyes shut again. The rhythmic touch against his skull more soothing than it should be.]
My dreams have never been lofty, yet they've been further out of reach than my revenge. A man's death is easier to attain than a chess match. A dream to have met someone sooner impossible enough to pull me into a separate world.
[And with that short confession-]
Foolish and childish as all those wishes have been-
[His chest hurts. His throat's sore.]
I don't think I would have minded a few years of normalcy by your side instead.
(frozen comment) no subject
They once discussed wishes to change what's been done in the past and wishes to change what will be done in the future. He should have known Akechi's fell into the latter, despite the fact that he lives without regrets.
But then the conversation shifts, and–
Maruki can hardly believe he heard it. Thinks for a moment that his feverish mind imagined it, but even at his most desperate, he wouldn't dare to dream that Akechi would say something like that. ]
A few years...
[ It wouldn't be enough time.
It would never, ever be enough time.
He shifts his hand to card fingers deeper through Akechi's hair, stroking through it properly now, still just as slow and methodical. ]
I could give you that. Without using my ability, I mean.
[ He can't. Akechi would have to give up the singular goal that has kept him upright through such an intensely lonely, painful life, and he won't. It's not possible. ]
Do you really want that?
(frozen comment) no subject
[He doesn't. He won't take it. Even if Maruki provided him an out - a way to escape this personal torment he's trapped himself in, he could never take it.
But it doesn't change the truth. It doesn't stop vines from uncurling. Akechi Goro wants a few more years with Maruki. Akechi Goro doesn't want it at all. Every bit of it is real.]
In all the worlds where our paths crossed sooner, in realities where we were forced together in my youth-
It felt like I may have been happy.
[He's so tired. So hot. His eyes stay closed and touch the touches against his head.]
Were you?
(frozen comment) no subject
Maruki considers it in wheezing silence for a while. Akechi's hair sifts through his fingers. Those words came out a little less rough, a little less pained.
A secret truth shared.
Maruki couldn't possibly love him more. ]
Lately, I've wondered if I'm meant to ever be happy.
[ I'm not a happy person, he told Dolph. My happiness was with Rumi.
And it wasn't a lie – it was, in fact, part of what caused the thorns hooked into his airway to retract, no matter how much of his own blood he had to swallow in the relief.
But... ]
I think I understand now, though. Even if I'm still in pain, even if the worst things of all still happened to me...
[ To both of us. ]
In the realities where I have you by my side, I'm not lonely.
[ Whether Rumi is with him or not. Whether Akechi's mother is alive or not.
They at least aren't lonely.
Trapped in a false reality against his will and toyed with regularly by a force too great to overcome, they at least aren't lonely. ]
That's what makes all the difference.
[ Happiness isn't possible when he's on his own. Holed up in a shoebox apartment with nothing but his own research to keep him company, or in an ivory tower watching over all of reality– it's nothing but pain for him in the end, isn't it?
It's the hardest thing of all to realize, when he knows everything he has here is temporary and he will return to nothing at all:
Maruki isn't meant to be alone.
He's not alone now, the fever washing over him, making him close his eyes and let his body curl toward Akechi's. His forehead touches one bony shoulder. ]
In those lives, I think I was happy, too. Isn't that something?
(frozen comment) no subject
And maybe, at the core of all of this, that's why he hates Maruki Takuto.
He isn't lonely in their shared home. Not in his locked room, under the heated covers of a kotatsu, sitting at the farthest edge of a kitchen bar.
He isn't lonely on rare nights alone in that expansive house. Those phantom noises persist without him there - a record player's soft hum, feet that stop at his door, movement in a kitchen and chatter. Akechi listens for it instinctively. Searches for it when his memory has to fill in the gaps and finds himself waiting for it return.
He isn't lonely when they sit in a bath in silence, unleash vile words on a battlefield, pluck food off one another's plates or sip coffee before the sun rises. He isn't lonely in festivals and gatherings and parties because they both end up at the furthest fringes of them as the night goes on. They don't always talk, but Akechi always sees him. Maruki always looks his way.
He isn't lonely when a man sees him, only him, listens to him and hears him and doesn't chastise goals meant for him and lets Akechi Goro live as he shouldn't, stays by his side anyway.
He isn't lonely while his body is eaten alive, with a hand in his hair and head on his shoulder.
And he was never lonely - not for a single moment - until this man weaved himself into the deepest recesses of his life. Something that might have been happiness - now he understands, more than ever, what that sensation is in worlds where there's someone by his side.
And he is never lonely. He can't be lonely. It doesn't matter if he isn't lonely now because there's a world waiting that dictates its necessity.
He listens to every word - over his own wheezing breath and hacking coughs. Turns his head to hear those muffled comments. Ends up with hair pressing into his cheek - dark brown, soft, sweat making it stick to Akechi's skin, but he doesn't care. It's comfortable. He's not lonely. He's too strong to be lonely.
It's too warm. He can't stand it. He hates Maruki for it and-]
They were only dreams in the end, but they weren't bad ones. If I continue to imagine such worlds at night - it wouldn't make me unhappy.
[It's not a lie, but he'll pretend it is the second they're back to normal. A delirious ramble from an ill teenager an excuse neither will believe and they'll both abide by regardless.
Maruki's hair sticks to his eyelashes, so he shuts them. Presses his face against the man's skull to dislodge it. Finds he doesn't really care.]
I'm tired.
(frozen comment) sigh. go ahead. kill me in one shot
Maybe he's imagining this conversation in his feverish delusions. It's the closest Akechi has come to approaching kindness in his words in a very, very long time.
It wouldn't make me unhappy.
That's as good as gold, isn't it? ]
Let's sleep.
[ His eyes are already closed, body heavy with exhaustion. There's no other alternative, but when presented with an inevitability, they both prefer to pretend it's something they're choosing. ]
Perhaps if we both imagine something like that tonight, we'll dream together. Stranger things have happened here, after all.
(frozen comment) no subject
They could sleep. They could die. Akechi isn't upset at the possibility.
We'll dream together - he doesn't want that.
The collar of Maruki's shirt is the last thing he sees. The haunting thought of sharing some shitty, sentimental illusion is the last thought he has.
And when he dreams -
He sees a whole world open up - a mountainside bathhouse, a car ride up to it, flashes of popup cafes with limited edition drinks, Akechi swatting a hand trying to ruin his picture of it.
But it's suffocating. Worse than the nothing that normally fills his mind. More agonizing than a noose.
He craves it anyway. Grasps it anyway. Rips the dream back, even as his eyes crack open in the dead of night, with his own wheezing breath choking him. He drags the dream back throughout, even when he's awakened by coughs and gasps of someone under him. He doesn't remember laying here and-
He doesn't care. If they die, they die. Maruki can move. Leave. Talk. Find someone to spill his guts to.
All Akechi wants to do is sleep.]