Akira may not know what his expression is doing, but Maruki watches everything filter through it in those split seconds – shock, panic, fear, a pallor that he's never seen on Akira before. All at once, guilt shreds through Maruki's soul; he shouldn't have brought this to Akira's doorstep, quite literally. Shouldn't have heaped another instance of suffering onto his already overburdened shoulders, forced him to try to act the hero.
It doesn't take long at all for steel to overtake his expression, and then Maruki is being wrenched inside the apartment, the grip around his arm unrelenting. ]
Kurusu–
[ Maruki reaches out as well, mirroring the action, grabbing Akira's other arm to still him after they've staggered only a few steps. The door is still open behind him. ]
Kurusu. Stop, I'm okay.
[ It's less panicked than his original disclaimer by far. Gently authoritative, firm with the edges sanded down. Maruki looks at him, brows knitting together to meet in the middle in sympathy – really looks at him, shuttered down to spring into action despite his own shaking fear, and allays it as best he can. ]
I'm not injured, you don't have to do anything. I already healed myself. I just–
[ The hand vice-like around Akira's upper arm releases its tension, though he doesn't let go. ]
I wasn't sure where else I could go. I'm sorry.
[ It's plain in its sincerity, earnest in its intent. He really is sorry. And he really is otherwise alone in this world. They both are, save for each other. But even if they were spoiled for choice... Who else would Maruki really choose to turn to? ]
S C R E A M S AT YOU
Akira may not know what his expression is doing, but Maruki watches everything filter through it in those split seconds – shock, panic, fear, a pallor that he's never seen on Akira before. All at once, guilt shreds through Maruki's soul; he shouldn't have brought this to Akira's doorstep, quite literally. Shouldn't have heaped another instance of suffering onto his already overburdened shoulders, forced him to try to act the hero.
It doesn't take long at all for steel to overtake his expression, and then Maruki is being wrenched inside the apartment, the grip around his arm unrelenting. ]
Kurusu–
[ Maruki reaches out as well, mirroring the action, grabbing Akira's other arm to still him after they've staggered only a few steps. The door is still open behind him. ]
Kurusu. Stop, I'm okay.
[ It's less panicked than his original disclaimer by far. Gently authoritative, firm with the edges sanded down. Maruki looks at him, brows knitting together to meet in the middle in sympathy – really looks at him, shuttered down to spring into action despite his own shaking fear, and allays it as best he can. ]
I'm not injured, you don't have to do anything. I already healed myself. I just–
[ The hand vice-like around Akira's upper arm releases its tension, though he doesn't let go. ]
I wasn't sure where else I could go. I'm sorry.
[ It's plain in its sincerity, earnest in its intent. He really is sorry. And he really is otherwise alone in this world. They both are, save for each other. But even if they were spoiled for choice... Who else would Maruki really choose to turn to? ]