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jurisdick
[Two days after his seventeenth birthday, his parents show up in Tokyo without a word.
Akira doesn't quite understand why they're here, or the empty feeling that spreads through his chest at the sight of them talking to Sojiro like they ever called him while he was gone, like he isn't even there, but- But then. They say why they've come, he watches the protective anger blossom across Sojiro's face, and he thinks he understands.
He wishes he didn't have that well-ingrained response to respect them, because he finally understands.
"It's the best way to keep him safe and out of trouble, you know? There's a few candidates we've had our eye on but today we'll be making the final decision... Oh, but don't worry Sakura-san, there won't be any marriage moving forward until after his probation ends next year, so you'll still get your full payment for sheltering him!"
Business. Passionless. Forced politeness and just as forced smiles, everything is perfect and fine. Everything in order, as always, except for when Akira wasn't - and now they're taking care of that, too.
What if I had started dating somebody after coming here, he doesn't say. What if I don't love them, he doesn't say, either. He already knows what his answer is.
His friends flicker through his head, Morgana, Sojiro warming up to him and filling up the space he hadn't realized he was that much without - and as they say his prospective partner is on their way, Akira stands.]
If they'll be here soon... [His voice is quiet, feather soft as his heart thrashes and breaks apart in his chest-] ...I'll make some coffee for everyone.
[It's the least he can do. If it's someone like Haru... then he'll be a comfort to them instead of being a prison.
It seems that's the last rebellion he has left.]
Akira doesn't quite understand why they're here, or the empty feeling that spreads through his chest at the sight of them talking to Sojiro like they ever called him while he was gone, like he isn't even there, but- But then. They say why they've come, he watches the protective anger blossom across Sojiro's face, and he thinks he understands.
He wishes he didn't have that well-ingrained response to respect them, because he finally understands.
"It's the best way to keep him safe and out of trouble, you know? There's a few candidates we've had our eye on but today we'll be making the final decision... Oh, but don't worry Sakura-san, there won't be any marriage moving forward until after his probation ends next year, so you'll still get your full payment for sheltering him!"
Business. Passionless. Forced politeness and just as forced smiles, everything is perfect and fine. Everything in order, as always, except for when Akira wasn't - and now they're taking care of that, too.
What if I had started dating somebody after coming here, he doesn't say. What if I don't love them, he doesn't say, either. He already knows what his answer is.
His friends flicker through his head, Morgana, Sojiro warming up to him and filling up the space he hadn't realized he was that much without - and as they say his prospective partner is on their way, Akira stands.]
If they'll be here soon... [His voice is quiet, feather soft as his heart thrashes and breaks apart in his chest-] ...I'll make some coffee for everyone.
[It's the least he can do. If it's someone like Haru... then he'll be a comfort to them instead of being a prison.
It seems that's the last rebellion he has left.]
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Akira turns, and he's filled with both relief and horror in equal measure.]
Akechi...
[He isn't sure he's going to make any sound at first, but he thinks the name slips out of him quietly.
Of all the people to walk in today, to witness Akira sold off like an object - of course it's him. Of course it is. Don't look, he begs mentally, even as he does everything to stomp the emotion down outwardly. I don't want you to see me like this-
Humiliating. Dehumanizing. It's awful, that it's the other boy to see this - the one that makes curiosity burn like a sun in his chest, that makes him want to uncover what's hidden in plain sight, makes him try harder, that he shows the fewest masks to...
The people that know Kurusu Akira best will get to see his loss of self.
But even past that sharp pain, is relief. It's a bittersweet relief, perhaps, but Akira still gets to see him one last time, untethered and free.
Maybe, if he's here, he can remember what it feels like to push himself to be his best self - and that'll be enough to endure what's to come.
A smile breaks across his face, small and strained but the truest expression that's been on his face since this all started, and he's going to ask him something he thinks - probably if he wants his usual. Something along those lines.
His voice isn't the one that breaks the silence.
"Ah, you must be Akechi-kun! I recognize you from your photograph, come on in..."
It's his mother's.
And Akira goes frighteningly pale as ice fractures in his chest, choking off the apology that wants to spring free.]
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realization creeps slowly into his consciousness. his smile, plastic and polite nearly cracks. )
It’s a pleasure to meet you. My father sends his apologies for being pulled away at the last moment. He wishes he could be here.
( stiffly, he extends a hand to shake, his eyes resolutely not straying to akira whatsoever. )
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"It's no trouble at all, we're just happy you could make it! Although it sounds like perhaps the two of you are already acquainted...?"
She's all smiles for Akechi, but the eyes she casts back at her own son are calculating and suspicious. He turns away from it, refocuses on the coffee.
Akira hopes that when he tries to figure people out, he doesn't look at them like that.]
We met at a school event. There was an interesting discussion going around, and we were interested enough in each other's viewpoints that we hit it off.
[Too much, not enough, but he has to give her some part of the truth or her and his father will dig for more. And he's fast running out of things that are his own, so he keeps what he can.
"How lovely! Akira was just about to make some coffee for everyone, if you'd like some..."
He lets himself fall into the routine. It's nice, bracing, the movements that he has memorized now. How much longer will he get to have this? He doesn't think about it, even as he thinks at one point Sojiro might be trying to get his attention. Akira carefully doesn't look at him the way Akechi wouldn't offer his eyes. He doesn't want to see the pity there, or worse, the genuine empathy that's a lot more likely.
It'll make him feel like crying, so he doesn't. Won't, because he'd lose something if he did.
The coffee is ready far too soon, and he brings out cups for his parents' and Sojiro's places - and for later, presumably his own - even if his mother is still standing. He doesn't look up as he speaks again.]
Akechi, give me a moment and I'll make your usual as well.
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to akechi’s credit, his expression has remained serene and pleasant, the picture perfect smile of a future son-in-law that is courting the in-laws. beneath that mask, there’s a tumultuous twisting of his stomach, a churning that makes him want to excuse himself and expel the contents of his stomach.
of all the people his father could have decided to ship him off to… barter him like some cattle…
akechi finally looks to akira when he hears his name. in a way, he feels like he’s underwater.
what would father dearest do if he knew his son’s husband-to-be was him. akechi almost wants to laugh at the cruel irony of it all. )
Take your time, that’s quite all right. In fact — ( he makes a move to set his briefcase down and then pass over toward the counter, mindful of any eyes still trained on him. ) Why don’t I help you? I don’t mind.
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You...
[The urge to deny and soothe is there, the no, don't worry about it, I can take care of it, don't trouble yourself. Helping and taking on as much as he can, much more than he should.
And yet, he manages to bite it back.
Puts himself in Akechi's shoes, asks himself why he's doing it - does he see that Akira needs it? Or does Akechi need to just take a moment, too?
What he determines makes him nod.]
...Alright. Thank you.
[Akira tries, but he isn't sure he stops his hands from shaking before Akechi is behind the counter, too.]
Have you used a French press before?
[He wishes, foolishly in more ways than one, that it was just the two of them in here. Because having three pairs of eyes on him for this, two far too scrutinizing, is suddenly very suffocating.]
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he’ll unpack all of this later. much later.
for now, akechi airily laughs, something like a television chuckle. he glances at the french press in question and then back to akira. )
Perhaps you can show me this time, and I can try my hand at it in the future? ( that sounds compelling enough for eavesdroppers, right? even so, he fetches a few mugs. he can at least do that part and ready that for the barista.
this is truly a nightmare. this complicates everything. )
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He... Is he being forced into this as well?
Akira casts back through the conversation, the father that couldn't make it - the one that set this up on Akechi's end, perhaps? To get engaged at all, but especially to another boy - it'll bring the best and worst kinds of attention. Akira knows what his parents are up to, but what on earth is the end goal in Akechi's case?]
It takes practice, but I think you'll do fine. [He smiles as he gets out the beans, and there's something very sad in it.] I'll look forward to it.
[...Yeah.
He really wishes no one else had been around for this.
But it's too late to wish for that, now.
He goes through the process in sections, taking his time, because that's how he learned it best when it was him that didn't know how. His voice describing what he's doing and the motions both become rhythmic - the carefully measured out beans, the pressure placed on the plunger, the precise movements of the pour over. It's complex, more than the average person that asks for it probably doesn't realize, but Akira thinks Akechi could do it. Quick hands, quick mind.
Akira's fallen into the patterns, but he's still listening carefully. Waiting for the right moment. He hears it, the moment that his parents are really lost to conversation and not paying attention at all, laughing at something they must say to each other since Sojiro has done nothing but radiate displeasure since the start of this. He pulls a breath, sticks his courage, because he only has moments to say it.]
I'm sorry. [Quick but soft, desperate and to the wall.] Even if it doesn't mean anything now, I'm sorry you ended up stuck with me like this.
SORRY i got sick then was at a con but i’m alive now
( akechi’s words come out as practiced and polished as one would expect of a youthful celebrity that’s used to interviews and the limelight. in a way, that’s what this is. another show, another mask. it just feels a little inconceivable that fate had thrown him and this particular individual together yet again and this way so forcefully.
he doesn’t believe in fate. not really. he’s too stubborn for that.
(doesn’t want to admit that everything he’s been trying to build is for naught.)
akechi politely smiles and pushes his hair back over his ear, looking to the same spot on the wall as akira is. )
How long do you expect they’ll be here? ( it doesn’t sound as rehearsed, but it isn’t anywhere near as open as akechi sometimes gets when the lights are low in leblanc and he feels like a teenager and not a discarded time bomb. )
NO WORRIES UR FINE I hope you're feeling better + had fun!! :pleading:
[Unfairness. Of all things, for Justice to be tied down and bound...
It's cruel. Is this why Igor or whoever decides such things chose Akechi?
But - there he is. Akira can hear him a little, just the tiniest hint. The Akechi that's a little more himself, the one Akira wants to uncover. The one he hears in Leblanc, in Jazz Jin, in Penguin Sniper, in aquariums right in the middle of his summer vacation. His shoulders relax, just a little bit, even if the tense guard doesn't leave his body.]
At least a half an hour, I'd say. They'll stay long enough to try and get in Sakura-san's good graces, because they can read that he's very angry about this, but won't linger if it's a lost cause. And at least long enough to straighten out things on your end. [Even if his shoulder are looser, Akira's jaw has gotten very tight as he speaks. There's something hard to pin down in his tone; anger, or perhaps bitterness, or... maybe even something else entirely.] They won't stay to deal with me directly longer than they have to.
[There's selfish relief in it being Akechi, relief that he can't stand because of its selfishness, because no one else he'd been paired with could Akira speak to so candidly like this. That maybe if Akechi doesn't grow to resent him, maybe they could at least have an understanding like this.
But even Akira couldn't expect he'd let that last bit slip. He never speaks about his parents with anyone.]
it’s time for full unhinged prose
akechi doesn’t understand how akira isn’t simmering with rage over this. it’s clear the guy isn’t happy about this situation, but he seems more perturbed for akechi than himself. that’s — so like akira, it pisses him off. so selfless and thinking of others and a textbook “good guy” when he’s dealt such a shit hand. unfathomable. how does he do it?
akechi’s expression remains mostly unaffected. he stares at the grain of the wood of the counter and then sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eye back to akira. )
I’m certain if they met my Father, they’d reconsider. ( it’s thinly veiled purposefully, but like most things with akechi when he goes to dump personal information, he pivots before it can go too deep.
a hand goes up to clasp his chin, pensive. perhaps downright mischievous. because the chaos is bubbling, certainly, like the curry. ) You don’t suppose us getting along a little too quickly would be palatable to them? ( there’s a sharpness in his gaze as he flicks a meaningful look to akira.
kurusu, would you like to play gay chicken in front of your parents? )
me rapidly inhaling every word
And that should have been enough... until now, when it wasn't.
This isn't what's at the forefront of his mind, though - this sits there always, like a low-burning ember. No, what's quickly drawn Akira's eyes away from the wall is the mention of Akechi's father. Again, he has to wonder what kind of person the man is. Not there during what had to be such a critical time for Akechi and his mother, and yet he finds it acceptable to meddle in Akechi's life all these years later?
Akira can't help but be more than a little glad he couldn't make it.]
Sounds like he leaves quite the impression... although maybe it's better we aren't there for that particular meeting.
[But the man Akira hardly knows anything about becomes the furthest thing from his mind soon enough.
Those words, that look- Akira forgets himself for the moment, his head turning to look at Akechi directly. Because that's... There's no way he can mean anything else, right?
Something gives it away that's it exactly what he thinks it is - maybe Akechi's eyes, his tone, the hand on his chin. But Akira catches it, and quickly turns back to the wall as the realest smile he's had all day lights up his face, corners of his mouth tugging like they want to pull up into something even wider.]
...I think they'll be pretty pissed off they didn't have a hand in it. We'd probably put a few of their pre-planned, overthought speeches to reassure you about their thug son to waste.
[His heart finally doesn't feel tightly bound in his chest.]
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it’s that infernal smile that twists up akechi’s stomach and guts in a way he isn’t used to. the easiest thing to do is attribute it to a nice medley of irritation and fascination, but the more he really looks at kurusu, the more they talk, the more he knows this is something much more complicated. and with things that are usually beyond his control? he hates it.
but for now, he lets slip a less practiced smile. something smug and borderline crass as he strums his fingers against the counter than pivots closer to his so-called rival turned fiancé.
a hand sweeps up to brush aside kurusu’s hair for him, over an ear, lingering just like they do in the moves. picture perfect, easy, he can do this. )
You should continue to let it grow. It flatters you, even if it hides your eyes.
( he says it in a voice loud enough for the adults to hear. because that’s the only reason he’s saying it. it’s not like kurusu’s hair is soft and his eyes gorgeous in this alluringly dangerous way. )
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Oh, that's real embarrassing. Probably worse than the red spilling out across his face, because at least that can be used to their advantage.
He has to rally, though. They have a show to put on. He can already see the adults taking notice from the corner of his eye - the conversation stopping, his mother's mouth dropping open, and that gives him enough savage satisfaction that he balls it right into the courage he needs to perform.
Akira allows himself one mental apology to the only person in the room that deserves it, Sorry, Sakura-san. He's probably about to break some unspoken rule about flirting right in front of the coffee beans, but these are extenuating circumstances.]
...Thank you. [He adverts his eyes, wielding his own surprise and fluster like a costume to play the part of the blushing maiden. Keeps his voice soft and shy, but Akira knows how to project it; he has to, or he'd never be heard. The same way he knows how to use his vocal range, he knows how to use his expressions, and he looks back up at Akechi through his eyelashes. Nice and demure.] If that's the case... I wouldn't mind growing it out a little more. You really don't mind having a husband with longer hair?
[Husband.
He doesn't move in any other way, but Akira's heart is slamming against his chest.
He said it. He said it. The reality they're weaponizing in the one way they have left to them feels so tangible that it makes his hands want to shake.]