(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!!)
Apologizing for being sick is pointless. Stop talking.
[The dinner comment is noted - the likelihood of Maruki being better in less than a week considerably low. He doesn't want to sit next to a hacking man at a food stall.]
I'll place a note on my calendar about it. Pay me no mind and go back to sleep.
[ He's already forgotten it's supposedly Sunday. He's forgotten everything. Forget ailment has nothing on a bad flu. Has anyone considered flu season in Mementos? His whole body is full of tiny little knives and they're all on fire. He's asleep within seconds. ]
[Akechi doesn't move again until a hacking, wheezing snore hits his ears. Congestion pooling in the man's lungs to the point Akechi can almost feel it in his own by proxy.
Maruki sleeps and -
He cleans. Quiet, across the kitchen. Cups silently washed under a slow, persistent drip, with forced out drops of dish soap squeezed. Drying rack. Sink wiped down. Pill bottles counted - stock taken of what's left. He needs more fever reducers, maybe cough syrup. Nothing in his medicine cabinet looks useful for whatever shit he has. He takes a photo as a reminder of what's there.
For as often as Akechi has come to this apartment, he doesn't know where Maruki keeps anything.
But he knows from living with him. Memories of habits. Cabinets open up and whatever Akechi seeks is inside. A little cleaner - a quick lysol wipe over knobs and handles. More for Akechi's sake than Maruki's, but that's how they operate. Mutual benefit, mutual gain.
Maruki needs food. Hilarious, given how full their fridge was back in Somnius. It's barebones and forgotten here. The poetic nature of it rings in his skull. A note made to comment on that the next time he gets a sassy text message.
He leaves - door locked with a soft click. The konbini a block away - it doesn't take long to grab an assortment of ready made meals and soups. Drinks. Bottled water. Medicine. A cold pack.
A fan working at the store takes his attention longer than necessary, but he gets a handful of coupons for a future event. Nothing he cares about. Something Maruki will. He doesn't bother to give it back and accepts it with the gracious care of a prince.
The interview is going longer than intended - that's what he sends to the school when his check in turns into this whole ordeal. A note accepted immediately. Akechi Goro won't be coming again - it's nothing new. Homework sent to his phone for him to study this evening, reading passages noted. Akechi will be ready tomorrow like he always is.
Another soft click notes his return with two bags from a local triple seven - whether Maruki's still asleep or not, Akechi will go into the kitchen without looking at him once.]
[ Maruki sleeps straight through Akechi's little cleaning spree, through his exit. It's a deep, fevered sleep, his subconscious cycling through nonsensical refuse until it takes shape into dreams that leave him sweating cold, tangled in heavy blankets.
He hears the door in his dream, thinks it's the door to his office at Shujin, always with that goddamn office, looks up expecting to see a once-familiar dreamer, and–
There's only Akechi, back turned to him in the kitchen.
Maruki sits up, trying to shake the dreams out of his aching bones, to prove to himself that this is real and not just another layer of his subconscious peeling away. ]
You came back.
[ Scratchy, hoarse, and not a question, though it should be.
[He doesn't acknowledge Maruki's scraggly voice for a solid five minutes. It isn't worth discussing that he came back. So what.
Freezer, fridge and cabinet get stocked with necessities with only a small dip in his bank account to show for it. He rarely buys shit these days. The coupon gets set front and center on the fridge with a magnet. It's limited time, so he circles the expiration date with a pen he scavenges out of a nearby drawer.
It's only when he's shoving the plastic bags into a cabinet that he decides to respond. The whole ordeal is almost embarrassing and pathetic.
How could Maruki have so goddamn little and be so wholly unprepared for something as common as an illness?]
Is your brain that fried? Of course I'm fine. It may surprise you, but I'm not the holed up on a couch right now.
[Maruki's voice is annoying when it's on the verge of a hacking fit at any moment.]
Do you want pills or syrup? I'm only asking once and then I'm leaving.
[ Maruki doesn't lay back down, for once. He finds his glasses on the coffee table, slides them on so he can watch Akechi silently moving through his kitchen. Groceries, it looks like– a whole host of them, put away in all the right places.
He shivers violently. Draws a blanket up around his shoulders, leans sideways against the back cushion of the couch. ]
I think I'm out of syrup.
[ From his vantage point in the living room, he can't see the plethora of medicine Akechi's purchased.
That's enough of an answer for him to unravel the plastic around the bottle and pour-
Well, more than suggested into that little cap. The lightly perforated line isn't the law. Maruki will be fine - Azathoth is a part of him. Cold medicine won't kill Maruki Takuto and if it does, that's almost hilarious. He looks forward to the police finding his body, in that case.
Akechi wants to knock him the fuck out for the rest of his visit and assessment of this apartment. Brings the container over to him, with some water to wash it down.]
Take it. All of it - right now. I won't wait a second more.
Maruki looks up at him, bleary eyes slowly beginning to clear. Two hands outstretched, a cup of medicine, a glass of water–
It's a numb, exhausted sort of obedience that makes him take it, throw it back with only a slight grimace at the bitter taste, then swallow down a few mouthfuls of water that feels kinfepoint sharp in his sore throat.
However, when he looks back up at Akechi, there's just the slightest smile quirking both corners of his mouth. ]
[In about ten minutes, Maruki should be so gone that none of this will matter. If Akechi's lucky, he'll attribute the memory to a moment of delirium.]
Don't mistake what this is. You're too inept and incapable of taking care of yourself and are too ill to think straight. I can't have you accidentally spilling anything you've learned to the media or otherwise.
[ It takes a few seconds for those words to sink in, and then he snorts a laugh through another sip of water. Even rolling his eyes feels heavy, painful. ]
You don't actually think I'm going to go running to the press or the evening news while I'm in this state.
[ Ough. Medicine gross. Head tired. He sets the glass of water down on the end table next to the sofa, rubs at one eye. ]
Or are you imagining they'll come to me? I'm a nobody, as you're fond of noting.
There's a fascinating new tool that's come out in the last decade called 'the internet' - in it you can communicate with others. I suggest you take some time to learn about it.
[Speaking of - maybe he should take Maruki's phone.
He'll keep an eye out for it. Picks up a glass half full and moves back to the kitchen to wash it out.]
god go ahead and kill me with a wrap whenever you want i hate you
[ Good luck, king. It's somewhere deep in this germ-infested blanket nest. Even Maruki doesn't know where it is. ]
You're very funny.
[ Deadpan, not laughing. Wheezing out another cough, in fact. As Akechi walks away, Maruki flops back down, his whole body one feverish ache. ]
I promise that I won't go on the Detective Prince subreddit and start spilling all of your secrets. [ A long, loud yawn, the next words muffled as he sinks into his blanket cocoon. ] Or maybe I will, and you'll never know it's my alt account...
[ That draws a laugh out of Maruki, genuine and loud enough to be heard through the layers of blankets before it devolves into a miserable, wheezing cough. As if he would have such a ridiculous user ID...
How did Akechi know...?
He doesn't need to be told twice. Back down into the comforting warmth, with medicine making quick work of him and the person he trusts most in all of reality nearby looking after him, Maruki slips into a sleep so deep it's nearly comatose. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Actually, if his brain wasn't boiling itself, he could think of a few times. But he wouldn't outright ignore Akechi, especially not in this reality.
He does lay back down then, heavy head hitting the pillows, curling blankets around his shivering body. ]
Sorry. I'll be better in a few days, I'm sure, if you want to get dinner then...
[ MISERABLE SAD SNEEZES :(((((((( ]
no subject
[The dinner comment is noted - the likelihood of Maruki being better in less than a week considerably low. He doesn't want to sit next to a hacking man at a food stall.]
I'll place a note on my calendar about it. Pay me no mind and go back to sleep.
[Go TO BED.]
no subject
[ He's already forgotten it's supposedly Sunday. He's forgotten everything. Forget ailment has nothing on a bad flu. Has anyone considered flu season in Mementos? His whole body is full of tiny little knives and they're all on fire. He's asleep within seconds. ]
no subject
Maruki sleeps and -
He cleans. Quiet, across the kitchen. Cups silently washed under a slow, persistent drip, with forced out drops of dish soap squeezed. Drying rack. Sink wiped down. Pill bottles counted - stock taken of what's left. He needs more fever reducers, maybe cough syrup. Nothing in his medicine cabinet looks useful for whatever shit he has. He takes a photo as a reminder of what's there.
For as often as Akechi has come to this apartment, he doesn't know where Maruki keeps anything.
But he knows from living with him. Memories of habits. Cabinets open up and whatever Akechi seeks is inside. A little cleaner - a quick lysol wipe over knobs and handles. More for Akechi's sake than Maruki's, but that's how they operate. Mutual benefit, mutual gain.
Maruki needs food. Hilarious, given how full their fridge was back in Somnius. It's barebones and forgotten here. The poetic nature of it rings in his skull. A note made to comment on that the next time he gets a sassy text message.
He leaves - door locked with a soft click. The konbini a block away - it doesn't take long to grab an assortment of ready made meals and soups. Drinks. Bottled water. Medicine. A cold pack.
A fan working at the store takes his attention longer than necessary, but he gets a handful of coupons for a future event. Nothing he cares about. Something Maruki will. He doesn't bother to give it back and accepts it with the gracious care of a prince.
The interview is going longer than intended - that's what he sends to the school when his check in turns into this whole ordeal. A note accepted immediately. Akechi Goro won't be coming again - it's nothing new. Homework sent to his phone for him to study this evening, reading passages noted. Akechi will be ready tomorrow like he always is.
Another soft click notes his return with two bags from a local triple seven - whether Maruki's still asleep or not, Akechi will go into the kitchen without looking at him once.]
i think this thread manifested my illness
He hears the door in his dream, thinks it's the door to his office at Shujin, always with that goddamn office, looks up expecting to see a once-familiar dreamer, and–
There's only Akechi, back turned to him in the kitchen.
Maruki sits up, trying to shake the dreams out of his aching bones, to prove to himself that this is real and not just another layer of his subconscious peeling away. ]
You came back.
[ Scratchy, hoarse, and not a question, though it should be.
Akechi came back.
His brand of care truly is such a strange one. ]
Are you okay?
RIP CAITLIN OSMOSIS RP ILLNESS
Freezer, fridge and cabinet get stocked with necessities with only a small dip in his bank account to show for it. He rarely buys shit these days. The coupon gets set front and center on the fridge with a magnet. It's limited time, so he circles the expiration date with a pen he scavenges out of a nearby drawer.
It's only when he's shoving the plastic bags into a cabinet that he decides to respond. The whole ordeal is almost embarrassing and pathetic.
How could Maruki have so goddamn little and be so wholly unprepared for something as common as an illness?]
Is your brain that fried? Of course I'm fine. It may surprise you, but I'm not the holed up on a couch right now.
[Maruki's voice is annoying when it's on the verge of a hacking fit at any moment.]
Do you want pills or syrup? I'm only asking once and then I'm leaving.
no subject
He shivers violently. Draws a blanket up around his shoulders, leans sideways against the back cushion of the couch. ]
I think I'm out of syrup.
[ From his vantage point in the living room, he can't see the plethora of medicine Akechi's purchased.
What he can see already baffles him enough. ]
You didn't have to shop for me. Thank you...
no subject
[He won't and-
That's enough of an answer for him to unravel the plastic around the bottle and pour-
Well, more than suggested into that little cap. The lightly perforated line isn't the law. Maruki will be fine - Azathoth is a part of him. Cold medicine won't kill Maruki Takuto and if it does, that's almost hilarious. He looks forward to the police finding his body, in that case.
Akechi wants to knock him the fuck out for the rest of his visit and assessment of this apartment. Brings the container over to him, with some water to wash it down.]
Take it. All of it - right now. I won't wait a second more.
no subject
Maruki looks up at him, bleary eyes slowly beginning to clear. Two hands outstretched, a cup of medicine, a glass of water–
It's a numb, exhausted sort of obedience that makes him take it, throw it back with only a slight grimace at the bitter taste, then swallow down a few mouthfuls of water that feels kinfepoint sharp in his sore throat.
However, when he looks back up at Akechi, there's just the slightest smile quirking both corners of his mouth. ]
You're looking after me.
no subject
Don't mistake what this is. You're too inept and incapable of taking care of yourself and are too ill to think straight. I can't have you accidentally spilling anything you've learned to the media or otherwise.
no subject
You don't actually think I'm going to go running to the press or the evening news while I'm in this state.
[ Ough. Medicine gross. Head tired. He sets the glass of water down on the end table next to the sofa, rubs at one eye. ]
Or are you imagining they'll come to me? I'm a nobody, as you're fond of noting.
no subject
[Speaking of - maybe he should take Maruki's phone.
He'll keep an eye out for it. Picks up a glass half full and moves back to the kitchen to wash it out.]
god go ahead and kill me with a wrap whenever you want i hate you
You're very funny.
[ Deadpan, not laughing. Wheezing out another cough, in fact. As Akechi walks away, Maruki flops back down, his whole body one feverish ache. ]
I promise that I won't go on the Detective Prince subreddit and start spilling all of your secrets. [ A long, loud yawn, the next words muffled as he sinks into his blanket cocoon. ] Or maybe I will, and you'll never know it's my alt account...
no subject
[Fantastic. Akechi will report that one - he's a secret mod of his own subreddit anyway.]
Sleep. We're done here.
DFASDLFHASLDKFJDSLKJ SHUT UP. SHUT THE FUCK UP
How did Akechi know...?
He doesn't need to be told twice. Back down into the comforting warmth, with medicine making quick work of him and the person he trusts most in all of reality nearby looking after him, Maruki slips into a sleep so deep it's nearly comatose. ]