My precious babies. My darling, precious babies. That is all.
I own nothing. Lyrics are "Brainy" by The National, which might as well be this pairing's theme for how well it fits them.
prompt: 100. recoil
.tall kingdoms
/
you're the tall kingdom i surround
think i'd better follow you around
(you might need me more than you think you will)
/
The fire in Yukiteru's eyes is only half-cranked, lit up by artifice and kept burning by some sad streak of spite, and Akise can see the tail end of it flickering as if to fizzle out in an instant. Even up close as he is now, as he takes in the fine details of the boy's face that haven't yet lost the roundness of youth, he can spot each and every shred of stifled innocence that Yukiteru is trying so hard to banish, to swallow down in favor of dealing out the same destruction and chaos that has his heart in ashes.
"It's not working, is it?" Akise asks; but even the softness of his voice startles Yukiteru, seeing how the boy flinches and starts to recoil as if stung. The hand that rises to cup the boy's cheek, however, is gentle and searching, and Yukiteru visibly bites the inside of his cheek to surely keep himself from spilling out every ounce of hurt clinging to his nerves like sticky spider's webs. Akise almost wishes he would; at least the honesty would save this doe-eyed boy from being consumed by his demons in one quick gulp. At least he'd be here, with him, safe to cry and scream and mourn all he wants without shame – Akise could never judge him for that, not once.
Akise leans closer, the pad of his thumb stroking just under Yukiteru's eye. Dark eyelashes flutter in a nervous blink and are felt deftly against Akise's fingertip. "Your eyes," he murmurs, watching how Yukiteru seems to shrink under his gaze and slowly begin to come undone. "They're sad. Angry, too, but…not in the way you think."
"I'm fine," Yukiteru says too quickly, the words puffing out fast but not earnest enough, not honest and true enough.
"I don't believe you," is Akise's simple, soft response. He gives a modest, baleful smile. "I want to, of course, since I always believe in you, but…" He shakes his head and drops his gaze down to Yukiteru's lips. They're trembling. He wants to touch them with his own. "But I think there's a very stark difference between believing in someone and buying the same lie they're trying to tell themselves. It's just not the same thing, no matter how much we wish it could be."
"I don't need you to believe in me!" And now Yukiteru's eyes are flashing and wild again, angry with him, furious with him – and yet there's something about this display that Akise finds forced, even a bit maudlin in how the boy jerks away from him and flattens his back against the wall, breathing heavily, clenching his fists by his sides. "Just…just stop. Stop looking at me."
"I don't want to stop looking at you."
"I don't care about what you want!" Yukiteru's voice is on the verge of cracking, and Akise thinks the boy might be about to cry what with how he suddenly bows his head and lets the messy fall of his bangs cover his eyes. "I don't care about anything…anything but that one wish that'll just…i-it'll make this all worth it, I swear – "
But the crack in his voice doesn't go unnoticed, or the sudden seizing up of his body as he folds into himself, arms wrapped around his stomach and doubling over as if he's crumbling from the inside-out. Akise is quick to move in spite of Yukiteru's weak protest to stay away; it's little more than a hoarse whimper to leave him be, to not touch him, to not care for him, but all the while he's reaching out with a shaking white hand, reaching without even realizing it. Something heavy and hot twists in Akise's stomach when he catches onto that hand and tugs him close, and Yukiteru is reduced to a poor ragdoll of a thing when he falls against him with a choked-off cry that unravels into gasping, broken sobs. Each and every sound is muffled into Akise's chest as he weaves slender fingers through the boy's dark hair and holds him close, cradling him against the steady thrum of his heart. Yukiteru's small hands are grasping blindly for his shoulders, tethering himself to the only solid, steady thing he can grab hold of, and yet even Akise feels himself swaying, his knees shaking as he finally holds this boy like he's always wanted.
"You can't…honestly expect me not to care, right?" And now he's laughing, quiet and breathy to keep himself enchained to this moment, to this frail and shuddering body in his arms. His lips are a gentle press against Yukiteru's forehead; his skin is warm and flushed to the touch, the poor thing. "Not caring…that's the very last thing you could ever have me do."
Yukiteru's only response is to cry harder and sway on his feet like some skinny, wilted flower. Despite his own trembling, Akise remains rooted to the floor – he will be a trellis for this blue-eyed boy, a crux, something for him to lean on and grow tall with, should he ever give him the chance.
Akise can't recall a single time in his life where he's ever wanted something more.