#butcherbiird

[changeshearts]

“If you like, you can stay over here tonight.” - @butcherbiird

Why his first instinct was to reach out to the boy who'd just threatened to expose them to the world, he'll never know. Something about Akechi continues to pull him in against all reason, keeps him coming back despite the rest of his friends warning against getting too close. This man killed Haru's father, and yet here he is, sitting on the edge of Akechi's mattress, looking around at the lack of any personal flair to the place, and feeling genuinely sorry for him.

Surely he's the worst person on the planet. He could have reached out to anyone in the wake of Sojiro's ire; why on earth did he choose Akechi?

He tells himself it's because the others have parents or rules to worry about. Ryuji's mother doesn't know him, Yusuke lives in a school dorm, Haru is dealing with enough... Akechi doesn't have any of the same rules and regulations keeping Akira out of his personal life.

"...I don't know." Would Sojiro call the cops if Akira didn't come back? No, he doesn't think so. Sojiro had seemed to forgive him readily enough, despite putting Futaba directly in harm's way. It was the disappointment in Sojiro's eyes that drove Akira here; he's never felt so utterly hopeless in the face of an adult's disapproval before.

It's been a hell of a day. The confrontation at the festival, now Sojiro... Akira has a lot on his plate. Yet he wants nothing more than to take what little time he has with Akechi and horde it for himself before everything goes to hell.

"I didn't bring a toothbrush or a change of clothes. I worry I'd get in the way."

[changeshearts]

"This is why information gets muddled in cases like these." @butcherbiird

Akira idly washes a cup while the coffee boils. The TV drones on in the background, a news story about the possibility of the Phantom Thieves targeting local burglars. They mention the Phan-site, the voting system, and the suggestion box.

It would be easy to agree, or even to say nothing. But Akira thinks of what would happen if they didn't have the Phan-site.

"They get things done faster than the cops do," he says, setting the cup aside to dry. "Cops usually just show up to make things worse. They're incompetent. I mean, that's why they hired you, right?"

Shut up, he tells himself. Usually he has no problem keeping quiet and minding his own business.

"Sorry. This is why people think I'm some kind of hardened criminal who's going to shank them at the slightest provocation."

@butcherbiird

[changeshearts]

@butcherbiird / cont.

Akechi shifts; uncrosses his legs only to cross them again, the other way round. Jazz Jin is busier than normal, thanks to a live performance. It is, in ways, more private than if it were a slow night. No one is paying attention to a couple of high school boys drinking mock cocktails at a back table.

He sips his fake blueberry mojito, giving himself time to think and to decide if he's even going to respond. He's talked about his mother before. In the vaguest sort of way he could. It's already more than he would prefer to have ever told anyone. Akira had an annoying way of getting him to talk about himself; it was a risk.

The ice clinks lightly in his glass as he stirs the drink with his straw. He keeps his head slightly ducked when he looks at Akira, giving a soft, small smile. It is a… charming expression. Vulnerable, a little sad. He has practiced again and again to perfect it. "There isn't much to tell," he says. "My father was never in the picture, and my mother died when I was young. After that I was in foster care until I applied for emancipation."

The first time Akechi had told him anything about his upbringing, they had both been naked, steamy water up to their collarbones. The conversation had been quiet and vulnerable, with Akechi's soft voice echoing gently against the tile walls. It was a challenge, but also a gift -- what felt like a small peace offering in the middle of a silent and deadly battle. (I'd appreciate it if you could show me the way.) The two of them bare in more ways than one.

This feels different. It's a different kind of privacy afforded to them by the crowd and the crooning tones from the stage. He watches the sweat bead on his tropical mocktail and how it reflects the colorful lights overhead.

"I don't know much about foster care." Only the success stories, kids who lost their parents tragically and were later adopted by some bored rich couple who could properly spoil them. He hasn't thought much about what are probably countless failures: the kids that aged out, or were handed out to abusers, or wound up trafficked somehow. Or kids that were so alone and miserable that they opted to escape rather than remain there.

"Do you remember your mom at all? --You don't have to answer that if it's too personal."

[changeshearts]

"It might be a turn-on for some people, but it's not my thing. Yet! Who knows? The night is young!" @butcherbiird

santa clarita diet ! | accepting

Seeing Akechi's entire personality change like someone flipped a switch has been... something. He's finally grown more accustomed to the threats and taunting as they carve a path of destruction through shadows together, and even the horrific, violent manner in which Akechi slashes through whatever cognitive enemies stand in their way.

Akira thought he'd be prepared for anything that came out of Akechi's mouth, but clearly that was wrong.

"You've never struck me as the religious type."

The statue of Rumi, the apple symbology, and the various couples prancing around each other nude -- the whole thing has gone from scientific to outright fanatical, a savior complex beyond reproach. He'd made a snide comment about Maruki seeing himself as a god, getting off on imposing help on those who never asked for it. Being worshipped, if discreetly.

And he's angry. Of course he's angry; Maruki had told him only hours ago that the man he'd been willing to throw his life away for is dead. Held Akechi above his head and told him to comply.

"Of course, if you're propositioning me, it's a weird time to do it. Can't knock the scenery, though."

@butcherbiird

[changeshearts]

“Don’t you ever get tired of being so stoic?” -butcherbiird

hey there demons ! | accepting

"Hm?"

His friends have said similar to him, lamenting his lack of expression, never seeming to know when he's telling a joke or being serious. A flat affect, according to his teachers, but Makoto called it a defense mechanism. Akira doesn't think it's either of those.

"It's just my face."

Unless Akechi is referring to the fact that he's just eaten an entire hot pepper in one go with nary a flinch. He picks another of them out of his beef bowl with his chopsticks.

"It's not that spicy. Try it." He holds it out to Akechi in all too innocent offering.

[changeshearts]

"Just gloat a little bit. This is a win for you." - butcherbiird

hey there demons ! | accepting

Akira fights the urge to smirk as he brings the pool cue back into a resting position at his side. It did look pretty cool, to be fair. A few tables over, a group of middle school girls oohs and ahhs over the trick shot that pocketed the winning ball. Joker would have gloated, certainly, but Akira merely slides off the table and back onto his feet, adjusting his glasses.

"It's more fun when you don't hold back."

It comes out more flirtatious than he'd meant it. He imagines kissing Akechi here, in the middle of the room, crowded as it is on a Saturday night. The scandalized looks on everyone's faces, how warm the back of Akechi's neck would be against his bare hand.

Akira chalks the tip of the cue.

"Do you have time for another game, Detective?" A bit lower: "Or are you worried about losing to me again?"

@butcherbiird

[changeshearts]

“ i’m not really good with hugs. ”  - butcherbiird

there's someone inside your house ! | accepting

"I know that."

Cicadas sing their shrill tune outside of his window, which he's left cracked open to allow in a breeze. Downstairs, he can hear his mother preparing dinner. The air between them is tense and electric, hungry as it feeds on Akira's discomfort, and when his hands itch to reach for Akechi, he instead slips them into his pockets. He remembers too well that Akechi is touch averse; apparently death hadn't done much to remedy that.

There's a million things he'd like to say -- I missed you being the worst and most obvious of them -- but none of them dare to roll off his tongue. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek.

"I can't believe you met my mom." Embarrassing. His dad is at least tolerable. Mostly quiet, like Akira, minds his own business, lets himself be a doormat for his wife. His mom, on the other hand, is more likely to make an absolute scene at the smallest provocation. The fact that she let Akechi in is a good sign, the fact that she's letting Akechi be in his room alone, with the door shut, is... a little worrying. It makes him feel like she's planning something.

"You look..." What, healthy? Alive? What had he been about to say? "You could have, like, written me a letter, or something. Told me you were alive. Not ghosted me for a year."

@butcherbiird

[changeshearts]

“ there’s a lot of pressure to be perfect. ”  -butcherbiird

there's someone inside your house ! | accepting

The jazz club is quiet tonight. His shirley temple is too sweet on his tongue, a burst of bright flavor that takes some acclimation.

This time of year, the weather can be unpredictable -- some days are warm, but most are cold. In the club, it's almost warm, and he finds himself unbuttoning his blazer for better air flow. His school in Inaba was always warm. The air there had smelled like rice paddies, animals, and the breeze off of the Samegawa river, which glistened beside the stretch of empty road and the tiny park. In contrast, Kichijoji smells like fried food, the nearby coffee houses, and occasionally incense from the temple.

He takes another sip of his drink and tries not to think about his parents.

"It sounds like a really stressful way to live." Makoto is the same way, he thinks; overburdened with the expectations of her family. Except Akechi has no family, no one to claim him, no one to hold him up should he fail. "You don't have to worry about looking perfect around me. I don't know how comforting that is when I'm a fuckup too, but..." Akira shrugs like it doesn't matter.

Akira's parents had never paid that much attention to him, even in the best of times, and when the incident had occurred, they couldn't look at him at all anymore. Now the seasons are turning, and he's been in Tokyo for almost six months. He's almost finished with his second year at Shujin, along with Ryuji and Ann. He isn't sure where he'll go when it's all over, but he certainly doesn't want to go home.

"It can be really freeing to stop caring what other people say about you."

@butcherbiird