Work Text:
There are only so many times someone can read a paragraph again and again. Akechi knew this, he had already memorized the witness's testimony at this point. Akechi had already drawn about 4 suspects in his head, lining them up by suspicion. He was already on his fifth cup of coffee, which was a lot for someone who drank it every now and then. He could feel Sojiro look at the documents on the counter, curiosity getting the best of him.
"Do you have a theory?"
Sojiro immediately snapped his eyes back to Akechi.
"What?"
"I said, do you have a theory, since you have been looking at quite an interesting case, and an outside perspective would help," Akechi took a sip from his coffee while looking at him. This new flavor was a tad too sweet for him, but he did say publicly that he liked sweets, so he had to endure it.
“No, just, ignore me,” Sojiro grumbled, looking at the entrance of the stairs to the attic once more.
Akechi tapped his mug with his thumb, deliberating on whether he should ask or not.
Akira hasn’t come home yet, and it is getting quite late. He won't admit it to himself fully but, deep down he is a bit worried.
“When…” Sojiro looked back at him, and Akechi decided he should just say it,“when is Kurusu coming back?”
“Coming back? He hasn’t left the attic all day.”
Now that was a surprise. Akira was the type to always go out and meet his friends or go do Phantom Thief stuff, not stay holed up in his room all day.
He saw that he had let a genuine look of concern and surprise slip when Sojiro spoke.
“You can go upstairs and talk to him if you want to, I have to close up anyways,” Sojiro untied his apron and was about to reach for Akechi’s partly empty cup but he was already going to the sink.
“Let me help clean up, it’s the best I can do for letting me stay here so late,” Akechi smiled politely. He wanted to just go upstairs but if he wanted to be in Sojiro’s good graces he needed to be as polite and kissass as possible.
Sojiro was about to protest but just shook his head and let Akechi wash his cup.
“You’re quite dexterous with your hands, ever thought about working in a cafe?” Sojiro hummed while cleaning the counter.
“Quite dexterous?”
“Well, I saw you marking the documents with both hands.”
“Ah. And are you perhaps asking me to work here, Sakura-san?”
“Just offering, you could think of it as passing time with Akira.”
Akechi thought about it for a second.
Akira and him behind the counter with aprons on, his hair tied into a ponytail. Akira does the curry while Akechi does the coffee. Akira’s hand brushes past his when he passes him a cup. Akira teaches him after hours how to cook curry while their arms touch and brush past each other with each movement. Akechi learns all different types of beans while already knowing about half of them because Akira won’t stop talking about them. Akechi ties Akira’s apron for him even though he doesn’t need help. Akira ties his hair when it starts getting loose. Akira having Akechi as a taste tester for the curry, and then he would taste it himself by getting close and-
Akechi set the cup in the drainer, and dried off his hands before putting his gloves on.
Anemoia; nostalgia for a time you've never known.
"While it may be nice, I'm afraid being a detective takes up too much of my time. But if I were to have a month off I would be glad to help."
Akechi knew that by the time he got that month off Akira wouldn't be here anymore.
"That's good, well, I am taking my leave, you may go and talk to Akira," he gave one final look at the stairs, clear concern and worry in his eyes, and left Leblanc, locking the door behind him.
Akechi put all the documents back into his briefcase, and walked towards the attic, feeling a bit nervous.
He saw Akira lying in his bed, his back to the stairs.
Kenopsia; the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that's usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.
I could kill you right now , Akechi thought, seeing how vulnerable Akira was right now. Akechi left his briefcase on the table and walked towards Akira.
"Sojiro, thank you but I can make my own food," Akira grumbled. Akechi let out a dry laugh.
"It's Akechi," he saw Akira tense slightly.
"What are you doing here?" The tone in his voice was a little harsher than Akechi expected. He stood right next to Akira, almost able to see his face.
"I was waiting for you downstairs, imagine my surprise when I found out you were upstairs," Akechi said playfully. It was making him a bit anxious seeing Akira so unlike himself.
"Well, you saw me already," leave , is the word that Akechi felt was missing. Akechi considered leaving, but seeing the state of Akira made him unable to move.
"Kurusu-"
"What?"
"Are you ok?"
Akira curled up more. Akechi had no idea what could make Akira like this, Akira is usually playful and cocky, always having a dumb but smart answer. Akira is kind to a fault, and understands everyone he meets, being a natural social butterfly. Akira never dismisses anyone unless he is really uncomfortable. Akira is not like this, and it made Akechi's blood boil a bit.
Who could make Akira like this? Who did Akira talk to that made him be like this? What happened yesterday? Did one of his friends do this? Did one of the clients in Leblanc do this? What happened? Who did this to Akira?
Akechi was already planning how to deal with whoever hurt Akira, until he saw Akira shake.
"Kurusu?"
"I'm sorry," the crack in his voice felt like a punch to the gut. It made his chest contract and knot. The smile he was wearing immediately fell, replaced by scrunched up eyebrows and wide eyes.
"Kurusu!?" Akechi asked urgently, not knowing what to do. When a suspect starts freaking out in the interrogation room it usually means they will say the truth and usually after that they confess and Akechi just leaves, Akechi never stays to see if the person is alright. He has no idea what he should do here.
Akechi could see Akira trying to physically hold himself together, yet all he really did was sob.
“Hey…” Akechi tried petting his head but he jerked away, making it feel like yet another punch to the stomach. He tried to remind himself of an article he read, about how touching someone while they are freaking out is bad. He controlled his guilt and focused on what was important.
Akechi looked around the room to see what he could use. There weren't a lot of things here, even though it was cluttered with the most useless items you could find. In the end he settled for the box of napkins that looked a bit beaten up.
“Here,” Akechi said, giving the box to Akira. He took it without a word and blew his nose.
Akechi sat on the very edge of the bed and looked at the floor while Akira tried to clean his face.
“Thank you,” Akira whispered, still trying to hold himself together.
“You’re welcome,” Akechi mumbled back. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, the only sounds being Akira sniffling and sobbing here and there. Akechi didn’t know whether he should speak or stay silent.
“Sorry,” Akira mumbled.
“For?”
“Telling you to leave,” so Akechi had guessed right.
“Oh, it’s quite alright Kurusu.”
Akira pulled his blanket closer.
"I can leave if-" Akechi started, getting increasingly uncomfortable each second, not knowing what to do was infuriating as it made him feel helpless, yet Akira stopped him.
"What?"
"I understand if you want some alone time-"
"I don't mind."
The problem for Akechi wasn't Akira being uncomfortable, it was him being uncomfortable. He wanted to leave yet didn't want to leave Akira alone, not in the state he is in. Yet every second that passes he is getting more anxious and uncomfortable. But if he leaves then Akira is going to feel bad and that is the last he wants which surprises Akechi that he thinks that.
"You comfortable?" Akira mumbled out.
"Huh?" Akechi snapped out of his thoughts, not knowing what he is asking about.
"You're barely on the bed," Akira said, moving his head to look at Akechi directly.
His eyes were glazed with tears and his face was blotchy. He was still sniffling, and a few new tears fell from his eyes.
Akechi's chest pained seeing him like that.
He really was going to murder whoever made him look like that.
"It's fine, I can go to the couch-"
"I can make room-"
"No it's ok-"
"It's no problem fo-"
"Akira."
Akechi heard Akira stop breathing.
"It's fine, you don't have to do anything."
Akira dropped his head back into the pillow, and grabbed another napkin.
Pâro; the feeling that no matter what you do is always wrong.
Akechi looked at him and debated with himself. God, who would have thought that the thing he would doubt and debate with himself the most would be on what to do with Akira crying, of all things. He took a deep breath and decided to wing it, something Akira seems to have made him do more often than he is used to.
Akechi stood up and heard Akira let out a very soft sob. It felt like someone stabbed his heart and twisted it. He doesn’t want to hear Akira make such a pained noise like that again.
He went over to his briefcase and opened it. He looked at his documents and took out the little notepad he had. He used it for details he thought he would forget, although he never did.
He walked over to the sofa and took his pea coat, shoes, and tie, and left them on the sofa. He untucked his shirt and unbuckled his belt, leaving the belt there too.
He stood by the bed deliberating on actually doing it, but decided to turn off his thoughts and just get it over with.
He climbed the bed and sat next to Akira, feeling the crates below the futon creak. Sojiro should’ve given him a better bed, although Akira never seems to complain.
He reclined against the wall and sneaked a glance at Akira.
He was hidden inside his blanket, making only his hair visible.
In all fairness, if this were another situation, Akechi would find it adorable. But right now it was sad, watching the ever-so-proud Akira hide from Akechi with a blanket.
"Can I touch you?" Akechi whispered, hovering his hand above Akira's head. Akira nodded.
Akechi patted his head softly, cursing himself for wearing gloves.
He removed his gloves and was about to put them on the window stool when he saw it.
His glove.
Akira had kept it.
It made his heart flutter and contract. Akira was not one to back down from a challenge, but for him to put his glove closer than any other gift and ornament his other friends have given him spoke volumes. And Akechi ached, knowing Akira trusted him in a way that he shouldn't. Akira lets him be around him without knowing what Akechi was thinking half of the time. Yet he knew Akira was not dumb. Akira was smart and observant, he should know to some degree Akechi is bad news. Yet… Yet he doesn't push him away, he doesn't even try to. Was it resignation, or…
He opted to put his gloves beside him, not wanting to take the glove by accident.
He went back to patting his head, feeling how soft and fluffy it was. Surprisingly not tangled, which was good since Akechi wanted to really feel his hair.
With his right hand he tried to note down every conclusion and suspicion about the case. He might have not thought through the fact that his right hand is not his dominant hand, but he will make do.
Akechi caressed his hair, twirling some strands every now and then. He felt Akira move his head, and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hip with his forehead.
"What are you doing?" Akechi chuckled.
"Making sure you're still here," and with that Akira held onto the hem of his shirt.
"What do you mean?" Akechi asked, scratching his head softly.
Akira gripped his shirt and pressed his forehead instead. Well, Akechi wasn't getting an answer right now, so he was going to wait.
After a few minutes he pulled out his phone, getting increasingly bored of noting things he already knew. He scrolled through his social media, seeing things as pastry shops, true crime posts and talk shows. He followed them to keep up appearances so if people looked at his profile and clicked on following they would see things they expected to find.
After a few moments of doom scrolling, Akechi saw in his peripheral vision Akira uncovering his face.
His eyes were red and his face blotchy. There were still tears there and he kept shedding some. Akechi could tell he was holding back sobs.
With no thought process whatsoever, Akechi wiped one tear away with his thumb, which widened his eyes at the touch.
Funny, how Akira keeps making him do things he would never do.
Akira closed his eyes and let a few sobs leave him, now grabbing the hem of his shirt with two hands.
Akechi kept caressing his hair, sometimes tracing his cheek with his index finger.
Akechi doesn't know how long they stayed like that; Akechi caressing him and Akira sobbing into his hip, perhaps they have been like that for a few minutes.
Eventually, Akira sat up and put his arms under his knees, resting his head on top.
“Kurusu…?” Akechi tested, not knowing whether to ask if he was ok or if he wanted to talk.
“Thank you,” he breathed out, barely audible.
“For?”
“Staying.”
He never cared for someone. If he got close to someone it was for his own gain, always looking to get the upper hand and stay above everyone. Getting attached to someone was the last thing he needed, so he closed himself off. Never showed who he was leaving him a husk of a man with just his goal in mind. Finding joy in the simple things was useless for him, and getting excited about unnecessary things was not something that happened.
At least until he met Akira.
Akira openly opposed him, and tested him. Challenged every thought of his and ordered his mind differently. Akira made him attached and open up in ways he thought he wasn't comfortable with. Akira gave him a place to feel at home and accepted. Akira was his equal in a world where having someone on your level is a miracle. Akira was everything he didn't know he needed.
And Akechi has never cared for anyone more than Akira.
Akira put his head on Akechi's shoulder, and it was now his turn to be breathless.
Should he put his arm around him? Should he let him do his own thing?
Regardless of his internal conflict, Akira gripped his blanket closer to him, and Akechi instinctively put his arm around him.
Akechi mindlessly rubbed his shoulder with his thumb.
"Do you… want to talk?" Akechi kicked himself internally for being so awkward. He is a charming, polite and dreamy celebrity, he should be more kind and supportive than this. Especially for Akira.
Akira tensed and Akechi had resigned himself from trying to give any semblance of emotional support, when he finally spoke up.
"I had a bad dream," Akira mumbled. Akechi turned his head slightly to look at him.
His cheeks were slightly flushed and he was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He was averting his gaze from Akechi purposefully.
He was embarrassed.
"And what happened?" Akechi tried to summon his confidence in interrogation rooms and his kindness to his fans in public, all so he doesn't sound so intruding and awkward.
He saw his eyes filling with tears again and Akechi was about to apologize and bolt out the attic but Akira stopped him.
"I was alone."
His voice cracked and barely whispered the words. He sounded afraid and broken. His breath ragged and he trembled a bit.
Akechi squeezed his shoulder.
"I was back in my house and- and instead of being sent here I was stuck at home, and I had to- had to go back to my old school- but everyone hated me. It wasn't like in Shujin- they didn't avoid me- they bothered me directly. And my parents wouldn't even look at me, they would speak behind my back and say what a bad son and disgrace I was. All my old friends would be the worst of all, they would tell me- tell me how much of a bad friend I was. And when I tried leaving for Tokyo I would get sent to jail for a week. I tried contacting everyone but they didn't know me. I was alone and everyone I cared about hated me or didn't know me and- and- and-"
Akira tried to keep going but at that point he was hyperventilating. Akechi sat dumbfounded for a few seconds, trying to remember what he was supposed to do in these sorts of situations.
Akira was holding his legs against his chest, crying against his knees. He was trembling and sobbing.
Akechi's heart crumbled at the sight. This was Akira. His Akira. Crying about a bad dream about something that might have happened when he was arrested, because it was about what affected him the most. Being alone.
Akechi wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and tried to pull him as close as possible.
Akira turned and rested his head on his chest, gripping his shirt.
Akechi carded his fingers through his hair, as soothingly as possible.
He faintly remembered something like this, when he was younger. Crying about some bad dream he had, and someone soothing him by humming and touching his hair. It was his mom.
He hummed quietly, trying to mimic the faint melody his mom used to sing.
Slowly, Akira breath evened. He was still sobbing and hiccuping here and there, but at least he was breathing well.
Akechi used his free hand to rub circles on his back, feeling Akira slowly loosen his grip.
Soon enough, Akira just sniffled, a few sobs escaped his lips but they weren't a lot.
"Are you feeling better?" Akechi whispered softly.
Akira just nodded. Akechi laid his cheek on his head.
"Are you… smelling me…?" Akechi asked after Akira nuzzled his chest with his nose and sniffed.
"You ground me," Akira mumbled weakly. Akechi will deny how it made his heart skip a beat.
He pressed him closer, trying to hold him as tightly as possible.
Eventually, Akira wrapped his arms around his torso, and held him tightly.
"I'm scared," Akira sobbed. Akechi lifted his head to hear him better,"when I'm gone I will be alone again."
The guilt Akechi had forgotten came back, rendering him speechless. Yes, Akira will be gone. But not because he is leaving. But because of him.
Akira Kurusu who makes him coffee. Akira Kurusu who he debates with. Akira Kurusu who he invites out. Akira Kurusu who challenges him. Akira Kurusu who tests him. Akira Kurusu who welcomes him. Akira Kurusu who angers him. Akira Kurusu who fills him with jealousy and envy. Akira Kurusu who smiles at him. Akira Kurusu who accepts him. Akira Kurusu who makes him feel happy. Akira Kurusu who opens him up. Akira Kurusu who makes him feel alive .
Akira Kurusu who will be gone because of him forever.
Akechi pushed down the ball of knots in his throat.
"You won't be alone," Akechi manages to muster up. He is right. He won't be alone in his final moments.
Akira holds him tighter.
And Akechi imagines. Imagines his days without Akira.
Going from talk show to talk show being constantly reminded that that's where he met him. Drinking coffee and hating the taste because it's not how Akira makes it. Passing through Yongen-Jaya and stopping by Leblanc, not daring to enter. Cycling through Shujin and remembering Akira in his uniform. Not being able to read Hegel because it would remind him of the antithesis he lost.
He held Akira tighter.
Akira's sobs diminished, leaving him only breathing raggedly. Akechi hears Akira groan a bit. He pushed his hair out of the way to look at his eyes. Akira's eyes are closing and forcibly opening, but not for a long time.
He tries to lay Akira down, but he grabs onto his shirt. He looks up to Akechi with a question in his eyes that his fatigue is making him unable to ask.
Will you stay?
He answers it by lying down next to him, looking directly at him.
Akira keeps forcing his eyes open, but Akechi cards his fingers through his hair, trying to get him to sleep. Akira's breath slows, and he starts to groan.
Catathrenia; sleep related groaning, harmless but worth looking into because it might mask apnea.
A soft buzzing of the phone was heard.
He took out his own phone and realized it was the chat with the Phantom Thieves.
Futaba: Guys I heard from Sojiro that Akira wasn't feeling well.
Ann: What?
Futaba: He said he didn't even leave his bed and stayed cooped up in his room.
Haru: Oh no! Is he sick?
Futaba: Sojiro has no idea, but he said Akechi is currently with him.
Ryuji: Hey Akechi, can you tell us how he's feeling?
Another emotion that Akechi was trying to hold came back.
Envy.
When Akechi felt bad he didn't have anyone to rely on or worry about him. When Akechi wanted comfort there wasn't anyone he could talk to. When Akechi wanted a friend, there wasn't anyone there.
But Akira does.
A group of friends that trust and love him. That relies on him and he relies on. People he can trust and people that worry for him greatly.
A group of friends, something that Akechi is unable to find or perhaps will ever be able to get.
For the briefest of seconds he thinks that his first and only friend might be Akira, but he knows he cannot let himself get too attached.
Akechi: He is ok, he is sleeping right now.
Yusuke: Did he seem sickly to you?
Akechi: No, he simply needed to rest, I'm sure tomorrow he will be able to meet up with you.
Akechi didn't want to tell them about Akira's dream. It wasn't his place to reveal that sort of vulnerability without permission.
Futaba: Morgana says that he can go and watch over him.
So that's where the cat was.
Akechi: No need, I can take care of him, besides, I can skip school, I will not be inconvenienced in doing so.
Makoto: You shouldn't have to skip school for this.
Akechi: I always skip it anyway thanks to my line of work, besides, it would be better if a person took care of him instead of a cat.
Futaba: Morgana says he isn't a cat.
And with that Akechi turned off his phone and set it next to the window.
He went back to staring at Akira's face, letting his thumb scrub away dried tears.
Akira moved his head slightly, leaning into the touch.
Rubatosis; the unsettling awareness of your heartbeat.
His heartbeat ringed against his ears. He stopped breathing, as he watched Akira nozzle his hand softly.
His hand. His calloused and slightly scarred hand. He hid it from the public as much as he could since a celebrity has to look perfect, he has to look perfect. And when he wore no gloves he put makeup on them. That night he threw the glove at Akira, he had hid his hand in his pocket. He didn't want to say he was self conscious, since he was aware to some extent he was handsome, but when it came to his hands, he hid them as much as he could for appearances sake.
He won't admit it, but he sometimes wishes his hands were easier to correct and perfect, like the rest of his appearance.
Altschmerz; the weariness of the same old issues you always had.
Akechi didn't move his hand, looking at Akira intently, waiting for any sign that he might dislike the texture of his hand.
Nothing. Not a single sign, if anything Akira seemed to enjoy the feeling of his hand on his cheek, sometimes brushing his tear streaks away.
He looked so peaceful, and yet Akechi's heart pained looking at his blotchy skin and red rimmed eyes. His eyelashes were long and beautiful yet full of tears. His breathing even but ragged.
His hand on Akira's cheek lowered and grazed his lips with his thumb. His breathing stopped while he stared at his face. Slowly and steadily, he pressed his thumb against his lips.
He pulled his hand away and stared at his thumb. He gulped and resigned himself to this. He pressed his thumb on his lips too.
He closed his eyes and imagined.
Waking up in the morning to Akira next to him, staring at him intently. Watching Akira's eyes flutter open and close again, wanting to sleep for a little bit longer. Akechi kissing his eyes, trying to get him to get up.
"Ugh, a few minutes more," Akira would say, annoyed.
"Morgana will scratch you if you don't wake up."
"I dare him to."
Akechi would chuckle softly and kiss his face softly.
"Come on my little thief, wake up," he would whisper into his ear, kissing it softly.
Akira would groan but stand up regardless.
"Fine fine Mr. Detective, you want your coffee as always?"
"As always."
Akechi would shoot him a smile and Akira wouldn't be able to suppress his grin.
"Good morning, Goro."
"Good morning, Akira."
"Akechi…?"
Akechi snapped his eyes open, staring back at a pair of grey bleary eyed eyes.
"Did I wake you up?" Akechi asked as innocently as he could, remembering what he did a few moments ago, and praying to whatever god or devil there was that Akira didn't see him.
Akira pressed his index finger on his lips, a soft blush spreading on his cheeks.
Akechi will deny the heat he felt on his ears.
Akechi almost sat upright and fled the room but his body didn't move. He didn't dare look away, afraid that breaking whatever staring contest they were doing would make Akira realize what happened and make him stand up and leave.
Opia; the ambiguous intensity from looking someone in the eye.
Akira turned around, his back facing him.
Somehow, that felt worse than if Akira would have stood up instead.
Akechi stared at his back, thoughts racing and jumping to conclusions. His heart had sunk to his stomach, and his heart was barely beating. He tried to form a coherent sentence in his head that could justify or salvage whatever moment of peace they had before he ruined it.
Instead, he touched his back with his forehead, feeling Akira freeze.
"I… I get that what I did was strange and perhaps wrong, and I shouldn't have indulged in my selfishness when what you needed was comfort from me. I'm sorry," Akechi apologized with as much sincerity as he could muster.
He heard Akira murmur something.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said… It wasn't wrong or strange."
Akechi stared at his back for a brief second, before tilting his head back, staring at his nape.
Liberosis; the desire to care less about things.
He wrapped his arms around Akira's waist, tightening the covers around him.
"Is it weird now?"
"No."
He grazed his lips against his nape, feeling Akira shiver. He held him tighter, kissing his neck softly. Alira arched his neck, giving him more space.
"Is this still ok?"
"Yes."
He kissed with less hesitance, feeling Akira unfreeze and melt into the kisses. Yet Akechi wanted more.
He knew being greedy with something like this was bad, yet this wasn't just something, this was Akira. Of course he would only be intimate with him, it is only natural that the one person that matters the most to him would be the one to make him feel… human. Feel like he belongs. Like he is just another teenager going through puberty experimenting with another teenager. Normal, simple, human.
No longer feeling like an outcast in his own flesh, but feeling his age.
And of course, the person to make him feel this way is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, Joker, Akira Kurusu.
So he is going to do another stupid teenager-going-through-puberty-and-experimenting thing.
He supported himself by the forearms and looked straight at Akira's face.
Flushed, serene and beautiful.
He looked at Akechi, wondering what Akechi was doing.
He turned Akira to lay flat on his back, and he got close enough so that he could feel Akira's breath on his lips. With one thumb he graced Akira's lips and left his hand to rest on his face.
"Can I?"
That simple question may appear meaningless but for Akechi it meant everything. He let's Akira wonder if this is truly ok, he wants Akira to decide for himself. To surrender complete control over the way of things and let Akira take the lead and decide for both of them.
He asked permission to let his desires and longing control him.
Akira wrapped his arms around Akechi's shoulders.
"Yes."
Akechi has had several confessions via letters and posts online, sometimes even chats. Once he was confessed by a girl at school. He never did anything with any of them. He only found them as assets or unimportant people that he shouldn't bother making an acquaintance of.
In other words, he was inexperienced.
Thankfully, and hopefully, so was Akira.
His soft lips moved against his, enjoying every press and move, every hint of tongue and teeth. Each kiss turned more heated than the last, hands starting to explore their bodies.
He was about to straddle Akira, but his arm slid away, making him crash his mouth against Akira's painfully.
They both held their mouths with their hands, groaning and massaging it.
Akechi was about to apologize but Akira started laughing.
"Ow…" Akira chuckled out. Akechi couldn't help but laugh as well.
Their noses grazed and bumped, still laughing and giggling, sometimes stealing kisses before laughing again.
Akechi laid down again on his side, and Akira turned so he could look at him.
"Thank you," Akira whispered. Akechi looked at him quizzically.
"For making me feel better," he intertwined their hands, and rested his forehead against Akechi's. His eyes closed again and this time, he actually went to sleep.
Akechi kept staring at him, a soft blush on his cheeks as he heard Akira groan softly and his steady breathing, being able to even hear his heartbeat in a comfortable way.
And as his eyes fluttered close as well, feeling his own exhaustion take over him, he thought of another word that might describe this feeling right now.
Kairosclerosis; the moment when you realize you're happy.