At first Mishima flinched from his touch, less out of fear and more out of habit. He was used to being hit, shoved, hurt, and so even though he knew Akira would never do such a thing, his flinches came as instinct. It took a while for him to learn that he could be touched unexpectedly, with soft and tender kindness and not with bruising, mocking anger.
He learned that Akira could like someone like him, as pitiful and weak and worthless as he felt in comparison. It felt like a joke at first, some kind of cruel prank designed to lift his heart before dropping it, but even though he held his breath the fall never came. Days and weeks and months passed by, and he waited and waited for a punchline in between Akira's smiles and small touches. If this really was a joke, Mishima thought, it was quite tiring waiting for it to end. He almost wished Akira hadn't gotten this close to him in the first place, because it got too difficult to tell if he should be laughing it off or if it was alright to want it to be true. Hope was more exhausting than he liked.
And the way Akira persisted in his affection, the way he carefully touched him and spoke in quiet, measured tones with the composure of someone taming a stray, felt very much exhausting. It was not an unpleasant exhaustion, by all means―it was the kind that made Mishima drop his guard because there was no use for it around someone who wasn't a threat. With gentle words and the feel of his warm fingers brushing against his, Akira was wearing Mishima down into accepting that his feelings were indeed true. And gods, Mishima wanted so desperately to believe it. He just couldn't see why Akira would choose him.
But even so, he allowed himself to be coaxed into relaxing with Akira. He let himself believe that he could be touched and loved with kindness, even if his past experiences told him otherwise. He found himself no longer flinching at Akira's touch, even if it was unexpected, and somehow even something as small as that made him feel a little stronger than before. When Akira first kissed him, he was surprised at the thrill in his heart instead of the usual self-deprecating doubt that this could somehow be a joke too.
"Did I scare you?" Akira asked a few nervous heartbeats later, and their faces were close enough that Mishima could see himself reflected in Akira's eyes. Scare him? Perhaps it would have, a long time ago. But the kindness Akira had shown him worked, and now he was stronger because of it.
He leaned forward, and though it played out cooler in his head, his cheeks burned fiercely and his heart threatened to explode in his chest. Their lips touched once more, but Mishima could barely feel it past the pounding in his ears. Gods, this was a mistake, he thought, because he didn't exactly check if Akira had wanted to kiss him again, and it was entirely possible that he had been awful at it, but then he felt Akira's hand sliding over his.
Perhaps strays could learn that they were worthy of love, and Akira was very good at taming strays.