[His hands pause over the grinder. (Because he does, at least, have a grinder; it's absolutely not Leblanc quality, but he'd rather go out and fight the Combatants and Blood-drinkers with his bare hands than drink instant coffee.) His eyes slide over to Maruki, watching him watch Akira. Observant. Thinking.
Not so unlike himself.
Maruki Takuto is a therapist; that's how Akira met him, that's how he's always known him. He studied to be able to do that, he presumes, even if his distorted heart took it in such a wide direction. He's not just that, though; he's a researcher, too. Something close to a scientist, perhaps, but well-learned enough in the field of cognitive psience that he could write an entire thesis on it. He's smart. Akira has never doubted that, not once. It just feels very stark, right now, to see it so clearly on display.
The moment ends; his gaze returns to the beans, but even as his hands move, Akira still feels somewhat frozen.]
...You figured it out, then.
[He doesn't mince his words. Maruki will understand, he's sure.
Honestly, he doesn't want to have this conversation. At least... not with Maruki. Not right now, not right at this moment when it's raw and painful and still healing wrong. Maybe not ever, or until he knows that Akechi will come back, or at least until he's an adult and watching all of his friend's kids have kids and knows he'll be waiting until the day he day he dies to bring someone that's never coming back to a jazz club. Maybe then, when the warmth of Akechi's shoulder is more than a phantom pain or Maruki's starting to go gray, he can have this conversation with him without feeling tension swirling in his gut.
Unfortunately, Akira has vows and promises to keep.]
I was on my own for about three weeks before you arrived. I still don't know what happened. I investigated, but there was no trace left behind that I could find.
sinks my teeth into u like the one cat gif
Not so unlike himself.
Maruki Takuto is a therapist; that's how Akira met him, that's how he's always known him. He studied to be able to do that, he presumes, even if his distorted heart took it in such a wide direction. He's not just that, though; he's a researcher, too. Something close to a scientist, perhaps, but well-learned enough in the field of cognitive psience that he could write an entire thesis on it. He's smart. Akira has never doubted that, not once. It just feels very stark, right now, to see it so clearly on display.
The moment ends; his gaze returns to the beans, but even as his hands move, Akira still feels somewhat frozen.]
...You figured it out, then.
[He doesn't mince his words. Maruki will understand, he's sure.
Honestly, he doesn't want to have this conversation. At least... not with Maruki. Not right now, not right at this moment when it's raw and painful and still healing wrong. Maybe not ever, or until he knows that Akechi will come back, or at least until he's an adult and watching all of his friend's kids have kids and knows he'll be waiting until the day he day he dies to bring someone that's never coming back to a jazz club. Maybe then, when the warmth of Akechi's shoulder is more than a phantom pain or Maruki's starting to go gray, he can have this conversation with him without feeling tension swirling in his gut.
Unfortunately, Akira has vows and promises to keep.]
I was on my own for about three weeks before you arrived. I still don't know what happened. I investigated, but there was no trace left behind that I could find.