If only they'd been friends earlier, then maybe...
Friends is a loaded word, one that fills his stomach with weights and puts a coppery tang of guilt in his mouth. Allies is safer. Indicative, as well, even if Akechi hadn't meant to give away that he's likely from a time that's after he blackmailed the Phantom Thieves. He's almost certain Akechi wouldn't have called them friends before that, with the yawning gap of distance between them, but Akira's surprised that he'd even use the word now.
It's not a word that Akira ever deserves to have applied to Akechi Goro.
Akechi, who understood how his mind worked better than even his most trusted friends, that wore masks in such a familiar way that it felt like a reflection of Akira's own self. Akechi, who betrayed him and dealt the worst kind of pain, even if Akira had expected it from the beginning of their arrangement. Akechi, who was a regular guest star in all of Akira's reoccurring nightmares, drenched up to his arms in blood and worse as he tried to staunch the flow from a bullet wound he couldn't stop.
The nightmares have never ended, but at least they're less than they were right after it happened. Sometimes he wonders what it means, to hope that he'll have nightmares that exaggerate everything that happened in the interrogation room - enough of the truth serum injected into his veins to make them burn, hallucinations dancing across his eyes, every limb dislocated and useless as he's beaten within in an inch of his life... to hope for that instead of seeing Akechi's death, when Akechi is the one who put him there, surely must mean there's something wrong with him.
He'd almost forgotten. He'd almost learned how to breathe around the emptiness in his chest. He'd almost been able to pretend that he was a happy person.
And now he can face it, all of it, all over again.
It's an alliance that Akira again has to accept, because it's too precarious to refuse. The guilt of it will scald him, and that's alright, because it's just an extension of what he still has to live with every day.
Maybe it's simply that his penance has finally come to collect.]
They aren't words that I hate. [Because it's true.] I'm glad you think of us that way. [Because it's what Akira would wish for, if anyone would answer his prayers bent at the glass of a Tokyo toy store.] Let's make it official, then.
[It's a forgotten key clicked back into place, the pages of an old well-loved book crinkling through his soul. It's the whisper of a bond, of a red string of fate snapped in half but stitched back together. It's the threads of wants and wishes and likes, masks and La Justice and regret, gossamer silk wrapped around his heart and wrists and throat.
It's Metatron humming in his chest, impossible to reach or to feel more than the ghost sensation of, because all must return to zero before it reaches the end.]
Rather than just an agreement... Let's make a deal.
[A ghost of words Akira wasn't the one to say, because he'll be haunted until the day he dies.]
For as long as I'm here, I'm an ally to both you and Maruki-san.
[He takes Akechi's hand in his to shake, firm and nostalgic.
For as long as I'm here, I'll bleed myself dry if that's what it takes to do what I should have.
In a world where the impossible is meant to make sense... maybe he can claw and fight his way to steal Akechi's life back with his own two hands.]
oh mny GOD : ) we can wrap here <3 cw: violent thoughts
Akira is fool - freed and tied down by a desire for bonds. A rope around a throat that tightens and tightens until he's dragged into a room to die alone. He doesn't even fight it. Walks into looped trap each and every time.
Akechi can do this again and again.
'I'm glad you think of us that way.'
He shouldn't.
Akira is a fool - he can do this. It's the same as ever.
Akechi's always one step ahead, smarter, ready to place blade into back, gun to head. There won't ever be a point when Kurusu Akira-
Plays him for a fool again. In this reality or the next - Akechi's ready. Prepared. Akira's up to something now - was then.
A flicker of Joker is always in his poised responses, languid movements, confident words. Akechi can't stand him.
'Let's make it official, then.
Become allies. Become friends.
Akira doesn't confirm their relationship - smart as ever, careful as always. Claims to be allies now. Will stay allies now.
In Akira's distorted mind, Joker is planning to have the last laugh. Is trying to lay the groundwork for it now. It won't happen. Won't ever happen.
Akechi's stronger. Smarter. A planner and exploiter.
Akira's better. A healer. Tactician. Uses empathy to exploit, willpower to turn that into gain.
'Let's make a deal.'
All Akira has to do is join him.
Turn his back on his friends.
Give up his ideals for good.
It's grounding in the worst possible way - a confirmation of the dire reality of this disgusting world, this horrible situation. A dead man walks, touches him, fingers over his, palm to palm - he's alive. No specks of crimson on his skin. He's alive with no putrid smell stinging his nose.
Akechi Goro can't breathe, so Akechi does. Akechi Goro can't smile, so Akechi does. Akechi Goro can't fathom the bright, burning warmth that surges through his chest - not joy, not grief. It's entirely new, a sensation that's only for Kurusu Akira.
Akechi lets go so Akechi Goro can breath. Akechi stands up so Akechi Goro can think and Akechi-
Motions to the rest of the room like the actor he was born to be.]
Well then - let me be the first to say it. Welcome home, Kurusu.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
:) :) :) i get to do it now too :) cw: nightmares, blood, physical assault
Akechi said he didn't need friends.
Friends is a loaded word, one that fills his stomach with weights and puts a coppery tang of guilt in his mouth. Allies is safer. Indicative, as well, even if Akechi hadn't meant to give away that he's likely from a time that's after he blackmailed the Phantom Thieves. He's almost certain Akechi wouldn't have called them friends before that, with the yawning gap of distance between them, but Akira's surprised that he'd even use the word now.
It's not a word that Akira ever deserves to have applied to Akechi Goro.
Akechi, who understood how his mind worked better than even his most trusted friends, that wore masks in such a familiar way that it felt like a reflection of Akira's own self. Akechi, who betrayed him and dealt the worst kind of pain, even if Akira had expected it from the beginning of their arrangement. Akechi, who was a regular guest star in all of Akira's reoccurring nightmares, drenched up to his arms in blood and worse as he tried to staunch the flow from a bullet wound he couldn't stop.
The nightmares have never ended, but at least they're less than they were right after it happened. Sometimes he wonders what it means, to hope that he'll have nightmares that exaggerate everything that happened in the interrogation room - enough of the truth serum injected into his veins to make them burn, hallucinations dancing across his eyes, every limb dislocated and useless as he's beaten within in an inch of his life... to hope for that instead of seeing Akechi's death, when Akechi is the one who put him there, surely must mean there's something wrong with him.
He'd almost forgotten. He'd almost learned how to breathe around the emptiness in his chest. He'd almost been able to pretend that he was a happy person.
It's an alliance that Akira again has to accept, because it's too precarious to refuse. The guilt of it will scald him, and that's alright, because it's just an extension of what he still has to live with every day.
Maybe it's simply that his penance has finally come to collect.]
They aren't words that I hate. [Because it's true.] I'm glad you think of us that way. [Because it's what Akira would wish for, if anyone would answer his prayers bent at the glass of a Tokyo toy store.] Let's make it official, then.
[It's a forgotten key clicked back into place, the pages of an old well-loved book crinkling through his soul. It's the whisper of a bond, of a red string of fate snapped in half but stitched back together. It's the threads of wants and wishes and likes, masks and La Justice and regret, gossamer silk wrapped around his heart and wrists and throat.
It's Metatron humming in his chest, impossible to reach or to feel more than the ghost sensation of, because all must return to zero before it reaches the end.]
Rather than just an agreement... Let's make a deal.
[A ghost of words Akira wasn't the one to say, because he'll be haunted until the day he dies.]
For as long as I'm here, I'm an ally to both you and Maruki-san.
[He takes Akechi's hand in his to shake, firm and nostalgic.
In a world where the impossible is meant to make sense... maybe he can claw and fight his way to steal Akechi's life back with his own two hands.]
oh mny GOD : ) we can wrap here <3 cw: violent thoughts
He should.
'I'm glad you think of us that way.'Akira is fool - freed and tied down by a desire for bonds. A rope around a throat that tightens and tightens until he's dragged into a room to die alone. He doesn't even fight it. Walks into looped trap each and every time.
Akechi can do this again and again.
He shouldn't.
'Let's make it official, then.Akira is a fool - he can do this. It's the same as ever.
Akechi's always one step ahead, smarter, ready to place blade into back, gun to head. There won't ever be a point when Kurusu Akira-
Plays him for a fool again. In this reality or the next - Akechi's ready. Prepared. Akira's up to something now - was then.
A flicker of Joker is always in his poised responses, languid movements, confident words. Akechi can't stand him.
Become allies. Become friends.
Akira doesn't confirm their relationship - smart as ever, careful as always. Claims to be allies now. Will stay allies now.
In Akira's distorted mind, Joker is planning to have the last laugh. Is trying to lay the groundwork for it now. It won't happen. Won't ever happen.
Akechi's stronger. Smarter. A planner and exploiter.
Akira's better. A healer. Tactician. Uses empathy to exploit, willpower to turn that into gain.
Give up his ideals for good.
It's grounding in the worst possible way - a confirmation of the dire reality of this disgusting world, this horrible situation. A dead man walks, touches him, fingers over his, palm to palm - he's alive. No specks of crimson on his skin. He's alive with no putrid smell stinging his nose.Akechi Goro can't breathe, so Akechi does. Akechi Goro can't smile, so Akechi does. Akechi Goro can't fathom the bright, burning warmth that surges through his chest - not joy, not grief. It's entirely new, a sensation that's only for Kurusu Akira.
Akechi lets go so Akechi Goro can breath. Akechi stands up so Akechi Goro can think and Akechi-
Motions to the rest of the room like the actor he was born to be.]
Well then - let me be the first to say it. Welcome home, Kurusu.