spinatalltale | [WEEK 4, THURSDAY NIGHT PRE-CURFEW: Akira]

[WEEK 4, THURSDAY NIGHT PRE-CURFEW: Akira]

[she moves quietly towards Akira and Raven's hut after nightfall, but before curfew, silently hoping that Raven's absence means it'll be empty save for Akira. careful observation of his demeanor throughout the day revealed to her that his strength was wavering-- worry, a dash of panic, and most importantly fear, was etched into every single feature, to the point of where that spark in his eyes she admired so much was completely invisible]

[she didn't like it]

[. . . but she didn't know what to do about it, either]

[this wasn't her area of expertise. hell, just a few short weeks ago, she would've taken one look at that expression and kept her distance, allowing him to deal with his emotions all on his own. but her feet carry her before she can really think about it, and before she knows it, she's outside his door, standing with her hands linked behind her back and her expression neutral]

[she sucks in a deep breath]

Hey, Trickster! You home?

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[afraid?

is he afraid?

he probably should be, given the situation. but right now, he feels more racked with guilt because... obviously, he wasn't able to protect her. does he even deserve to live when he did such a bad job being her partner?

they were supposed to have each other's backs, and when she obviously needed it, he wasn't able to come through.

but he still has so much to live for. even if he doesn't feel too deserving of it. for haru's sake—of nothing else, to try and find a way to save her like others have claimed possible.

but for magilou's. for lucina and bellamy, serph, lief and prussia—he's made precious bonds here. he has people that he still wants to protect, no matter how awful, how unlike himself he feels. even if he never makes it home (how could he face them when he's failed this much?), he needs to find a way to survive for their sake's.

magilou, especially, who has come so far in just these few weeks. it doesn't slip past him that she deflates, that she doesn't stick to the path of deflection, that she actually... cares. cares about him, cares for him; that she's trying and has been for a while now, in her own way.]

Yeah. In a way... I guess I am.

[which takes so much energy to admit, because akira never tells people things like that. he never lets his guard down as much as he has recently, and in doing so, he draws in a shaky, uneven breath.

composure. he needs to keep that right now, no matter what.]

[something breaks]

[she can't tell what it is, exactly, but she knows it isn't bad and she knows it doesn't hurt. it releases her from the bindings that keep her rooted to her side of the room, pushes her forward until she's approaching him, each step slow and cautious. it's like whatever shackles or chains restricted her heart have shattered, like whatever wall she had built between herself and the world is finally starting to crumble]

[it's weird. it's weird as heck, but she tries not to think about that. all she can think about is that he's afraid-- and he has every right to be, considering he may not live past Sunday. and that thought steals the air right out of her lungs, makes her chest tighten in weird ways]

[she doesn't want him to be afraid]

[the bed shifts as she takes a seat on the foot of it. she leans back on her hands, head tilted back, gaze lidded]

What's it. . . feel like? To be scared.

[it isn't the first time she's asked a question like this. she isn't mocking; she needs an answer.]

[finally, he elects to sit up; there's a very muted look of surprise in his expression. akira really didn't expect she'd leave the doorway. but she does, and she's close and...

well, he finds himself a little relieved, even if there's distance between them.

what's it feel like to be scared?

funny.

it's almost a funny question, because he can actually explain it; there's still a sense of fear in him despite this brokenness, because he does still have those things to fight for. so akira's eyes slide closed, and he just... does his best to verbalize it.]

Like a weight in your chest that crushes the air out from you. Like a tightness in your throat and a sting in your eyes. Like everything around you is moving in slow motion, but you still can't pick your feet up because you're frozen in place. Like everything is too fast and too slow at the same time.

[...]

Maybe not all of those things at once. But that's what it can be like.

[she doesn't look at him, but she draws one hand up to her chest, fingers dancing across her collarbone and then trailing down, to her heart]

Oh.

[the word tumbles from her mouth, almost breathless. so that's it. . . that's what this is. part of it, anyway. the rest. . . she's still working on. but if she can pinpoint that one, tiny wisp of emotion, then she can use it. she can build something from it]

I think I'm afraid, too.

[for you, goes unsaid]

Huh. . .

[...

his eyes don't open until she says that, and when they do—it's from pure surprise.]

...You are? [...

...he can only watch her, curious. magilou... feeling afraid at all?

it sounds fake, but he can see it in looking at her that magilou isn't lying.]

[she actually shrinks back a bit underneath that surprised look]

What? Don't-- . . . this is new to me, too.

...Sorry.

[he closes his eyes again; he'll give her that space.]

You surprised me.

[. . . it helps her relax a bit again, honestly. bless his patience]

Uho, did I? I suppose even now I'm still full of surprises.

[its. a half-hearted joke]

[he cares enough to not want to push her away at a time like this.]

You've never been predictable.

[and he likes that, honestly.]

Can I ask... why? [why she feels that right now?]

. . .

[build on it, Magilou. Melchior broke your heart, but it doesn't have to stay that way. he's dead. can't you move on from that?]

Oooh, I don't know. [her reply is light and nonchalant] I suppose I would really prefer that you stay alive. That's all.

[she doesn't quite make the connection verbally-- I'm afraid for you, I'm afraid of you dying on me-- but the pieces are there. he can probably figure it out]

[he can figure it out. he's no idiot, after all—he already knows magilou's words often betray their meaning.

his head dips a little though, and he sucks in a breath. right now, he doesn't feel deserving of her worry—but it also means he's done at least one thing right by helping her with her own feelings, right?

...it's why he can't give up.]

...

[okay. maybe that definitely makes him feel a bit more breathless, like that weight is resting on his chest.

why is this so hard?]

[oh god is he going to cry this is too much she doesn't know how to deal with crying SOMEONE HELP]

Hey-- [she speaks up quickly] That's not the sort of thing that makes someone cry, is it?!

[I mean. she actually doesn't know, but. that wasn't her intention!!]

I'm not planning on crying.

[but yeah. it is. that's a line akira doesn't feel like crossing. that's not to say he won't with the right triggers, but he mostly just feels winded and that faint sting behind his eyes.

he's fine.]

I'm not going to dump any feelings on you that you don't think you can deal with. [or any feelings at all, to be honest.]

[on the one hand, she appreciates that. the care he takes in not overwhelming her when this is all so new to her. but on the other hand?]

[. . .]

[if his eyes are still closed, he'll miss the way she reaches out, her fingers brushing against both his cheeks so she can frame his face in her palms. her thumb even traces the lines of the scratches he received yesterday, following the lines of the injury before coming to rest near his jaw. her touch is surprisingly gentle, so as not to irritate the wound even more]

[. . .]

[god, what the hell. her chest aches]

I think I can take it.

Edited 2017-09-02 00:02 (UTC)

[he misses the start of that gesture, which does elicit some surprise from him—though when he opens his eyes to look at her—

there's not really any surprise in his expression. there's actually a measure of raw vulnerability in his gaze. he's.

...surprisingly not hard to read at all. without his glasses as his shield, she can see his worry, his sadness, his guilt, the measures of despair that have been chipping away at him for weeks...

but she'll also be able to see that his warmth and understanding, his kindness and appreciation still exist. his fire is muted, as if he needs to relieve himself of some other emotion before that. still... akira doesn't cry, even if he draws in a shaky breath. he leans into her touch—it's gentle, and all akira can think about that, sincerely, it:]

...Your heart's a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.

[christ, even now she thinks she could lose herself in those eyes. every bit of warmth and understanding and kindness and determination, but also every bit of grief and pain and fear. he feels so much, so much more than what Velvet ever showed to her, and he doesn't run from any of it. not even when he's exhausted and tired and fraying on the edges]

[heh]

Don't mistake a broken heart for a strong one. [she brushes off his words] Out of the two of us, you're the one really living right now.

[. . .]

Don't run from that for my sake. Okay? Every bit of grief and fear-- embrace it just as you would joy and bravery and everything in between.

Don't make the same mistakes I did.

Sometimes things that break... heal stronger than they were before.

[he's not running from it. whatever he's feeling right now, he's truthfully not really running for it. that's something magilou can be sure of.

he might not know how to deal with it. he might not know how to really express the things he's feeling, but he's not dishonest about it.

...maybe it's just easier for him when he's focused on her, because he's so legitimately bad at being focused on himself. maybe because he could actually crack a little if he lets himself, even though that's something he's really never done before.]

. . .

Hey. Stop focusing on me for a second.

[REVENGE CALL OUT?? For all the times he called her out before]

I'm not the one possibly staring death in the face on Sunday.

[and yeah, she's afraid, too. but this isn't about her]

Edited 2017-09-02 02:00 (UTC)

[called out.]

I know.

[he knows that's not her. but still, for akira, this is hard. but maybe he owes that much honesty to magilou.]

...

[which is... surprisingly hard.]

I'm not good at that.

[she increases the pressure of her palms against his face, almost. . . smooshing his cheeks together. but barely!! because doing that would probably hurt what with his scratches and everything]

[also this scene is too serious for face smooshing]

And I'm really bad at this! Haven't you noticed? So that makes us two people who are really bad at something trying to learn how to be good at it.

[geez]

Just. . . I don't know, borrow some of my selfishness! Or something.

[he's glad, if nothing else... that magilou is so very magilou. even when she's softer, even when she's kinder and gentler... she's still so very much herself.

and it helps.

strangely enough, they create an unusual balance in each other—she's trying so hard. and that means he has to try harder as well.]

Right... it's only fair. [it's kind of humorless, but he lets out a brief chuckle, like he's realizing what she means.]

It's just weird for me. Nobody ever asks me to think about myself that way.

[he's everyone else's pillar, after all. he comes from a weird situation; one where his friends all love and support him, but are also very caught up in their own situations and just assume that akira has it together at all times.

he doesn't, though. it's just that he never lets anyone see the times when he crumbles a bit, even back home. magilou is already getting more than the phantom thieves ever did, in that respect.]

Well, maybe they should.

[like it's that easy. like it'd help fix everything]

But if they aren't, then I will. You'll give me hives if you act too selfless all the time, anyway.

I'm allergic.

[ . . cheeksmooshes him again. GENTLY]

[so gently, and he does scrunch his nose a little at that.]

I think I'd rather give you something besides hives. [what though, he does not specify.

it's better that he doesn't, probably.]

Hm.

[hm? it seems like there's another thought at the edge of his tongue that doesn't quite make it out of his mouth yet. thoughtful—a little less despairing.]

[WHAT, NOW SHE'S CURIOUS. and also filling in the blanks]

A large chocolate sundae? A strawberry shortcake with jam layered in the middle? Your grandmother's famous apple pie??

[. . . and she's making things up again. probably because she's sick and tired of fish and coconuts]

[but-- she does notice the way that thought doesn't quite make it off of his tongue]

What is it? You've got something you're almost saying, here. Let it free, like a carrier sylphjay released from its captivity!

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