[ If Akira wasn't himself he would probably make several realizations here, but he does not. However, that's probably what led him to just exposing his chest in the first place so.
He does notice the flush, but he isn't a stranger to what alcohol does to people, and he's honestly used to being stared at too. But maybe there's an inkling back there somewhere, that he should be picking up on something else. ]
You want more? [ He refills his own glass and holds up the bottle and honestly will probably keep his shirt like this for as long as they're here talking cause he really doesn't like form fitting clothes and sees no downside to this. ]
[ Bertolt just sort of dumbly nods his head in agreement at that question. What is he agreeing to? More drinks or more skin? Either way, the answer is yes for him. He sees the bottle and just very quickly holds up his glass for it to be filled.
He bites his lip again, shaking his head trying to clear his thoughts a bit. It's fine. ]
[ Does he even want to be saved here? No, leave him--
But he stops and nods his head, taking another drink. How many drinks is this? His third? He should probably stop soon but he has the feeling he'll need this. For as tense as he usually is, he looks more relaxed, a combination of being around Akira and the alcohol. He stretches out his legs and leans back against the wall again, letting out a small sigh of relief. ]
[ He doesn't do anything for a moment. The stretch is enough to distract him momentarily, his eyes going back down to Akira's chest. But then he hears the question. He wouldn't think to do this before, but maybe it's being back here with Akira or the liquid courage or a little bit of both.
Bertolt shifts his glass so that it's in one hand and then with his free hand, he reaches over and very slowly takes one of Akira's hands in his. And then he looks at Akira's face as if to ask "Is this alright?" ]
[ I am totally saying the hand Bertolt took is his ungloved one because why not.
It takes Akira a few seconds to process what is happening for several reasons, not the least of which is his increasing state of inebriation, but it's also not the most important one either. He'd feel lost in this moment even if he was stone cold sober.
Some gear clacks in his mind that this is the same situation as when Rosé would wink at him and say that he's her favorite, or when she would invite herself over to his room in the dead of night, greeting him with a mischievous smile and light laughter. His reaction was always the same no matter how much she upped the ante; steadfastly ignoring the topic and kicking her out if need be. This is the same, but different.
But right now, neither of those seem to be an option. He doesn't feel a desire to pull back for one, and now that he's noticed it seems impossible to ignore (he's not even sure if he would want to, but his thoughts never get that far). There's that conversation he had with Rameel which is probably a big reason, but also with Yoo Joonghyuk that make him pause. Pausing is however, a step up from not seeing or refusing to see.
His eyes are a bit wide as he glances from their hands to Bertolt's face, a slight flush apparent, whether that be from the whiskey or the situation impossible to discern. His hand stays there as he finds his voice, because this isn't a situation where he can lapse into silence either. ]
But that pause from Akira is probably one of the longest moments Bertolt has felt in some time. He's never stepped up and done anything like this before (in his mind, Reiner's voice echoes for him to tell Annie but this feels more certain, more real). He's nervous enough that he's not even sweating, so-- no clammy hand touching at least?
But then Akira speaks and doesn't move his hand away and Bertolt feels part of the tension ease out of him. Ok, this is not bad--
He gives Akira a shy smile and shakes his head. As drunk as they are, they probably shouldn't start dancing anytime soon. Especially not with Akira's shirt still undone.
That would certainly lead to more rumors.
Instead he scoots the tiniest bit closer and gives Akira's hand a small squeeze. He wants it clear what he's trying to say to him, what he's trying to tell him. ]
[ Akira has honestly forgotten that he has his shirt undone at this point, but rumors would be bad cause they'd piss him off. People should stay in their own lane is largely how he views life, with certain exceptions, and of course that if something is happening in front of him he's entitled to make it his business. Contradictory and not, but he's never fit into the neat little boxes of Japanese society either.
With his hand squeezed it's more apparent if it wasn't already, and Nagako picks her head up from the floor to look over. Her eyes are bright but not hostile, and she's clearly aware that something is going on over there. ]
I, uh— [ He doesn't squeeze back, but after a beat his fingers brush lightly against Bertolt's, maybe in a small show of exploration. ]
...did you get my last letter? I sent it Sunday.
[ There is a reason for this but words are very hard right now. ]
[ Fitting into society is for other people, says the child soldier who joined a military program for his dad to get medicine and became a national hero.
If only Idi were still here for Nagako to loop around her snout for nuzzles. But, no more daemons for the ghosts.
Another smile and he seems to relax a bit more when he feels Akira's fingers brush against his. Alright, this is... good. This is very good.
...OK. [ He shakes his head, tussles his hair with his free hand (the taken hand is staying like that for now) and takes a breath. ]
Lemme finish that story then. So after I woke up when I died—I didn't know what the hell was going on. But I woke up in a pile of corpses that had been impaled clean through which didn't make any sense. Rin and I both were using swords, and swords don't stab like that, not for long anyway.
The whole crap with Rin this weekend finally made me realize. I had an idea before then but—I don't know what you can see, but Rin is half a demon or whatever, and it was that half that came out and killed Tsuru.
...one of my partners back home said something weird to me, once. I don't wanna get into it, but she basically said we're the same, that we're both monsters. I had no idea what the hell she was going on about at the time, she's always been out there, but most people in the occult are.
I don't remember what happened on that mountain but I can still feel it. My bloodmetry went out of control, looping and looping and looping and I turned into something and then I died.
[ Oh, this hits so much closer to home than Bertolt would like. If anybody would know what it is like to turn into a monster, it would be Bertolt.
Except he has full control when he does.
He shifts slightly, turning to Akira to give him all his attention as he listens to the rest of the story play out. Bertolt does nothing else but watch Akira and listen to this. He squeezes Akira's hand once more when he states that he turned into something and died.
He wants to talk to him, he wants to speak out about what this means, but he can't. Instead, what he does is set down his glass, still unfinished, and shift a little more. With that hand now free, he reaches over and places it on Akira's shoulder, wanting to be comforting.
[ Yeah he-yeah. Akira really hadn't intended on telling Bertolt like this, but he knew what he was getting into when he brought up the whiskey himself. Or half of what he was getting into, anyway. He doesn't really know what to make of the contact (even if he knows), but there's no space for that here, and what he does find is that it helps. Maybe in part because he doesn't experience touch very often, except in the midst of a fight.
The clink of Bertolt's glass prompts him to put down his own, the edges of his vision are the slightest bit soft which can keep for now. ]
...there's a plan for that here if it happens again, because I'm not just gonna stop using my bloodmetry either. Even if it wasn't Tsuru, I still would have done it. [ That is apparently all he has to say for now, and he closes his eyes. His fingers on his bare hand curl inward, seeking. ]
[ It's a good thing they're both Bad at contact, because it would probably not be helpful if there was anymore contact than this going on. He frowns at that comment, and he thinks about what he wrote just yesterday. Knowing everything-- no, yeah, he would still say the same thing. But he thinks he understands the meaning behind Akira's statement. But he agrees that it's better than not using it. Not when it's so helpful.
He shifts the hand holding Akira's slightly, slowly threading their fingers together, wanting to give him something more to hold onto. Then he moves again, closing the distance between them more. It may no longer be cuddle week, but he just slowly presses his side against Akira's.
[ He's tired. He's tired and he's been tired since facing the Kiln last week, and of course the weekend didn't help any. It never does and he expected it, but he hadn't expected the specifics, exactly. And while he recognizes he's not alone and he's made the actions he's needed to just in case, it hasn't completely relieved the fatigue he feels. There are those he trusts still among the living, but there's just something about shooting the piss with people your own age.
Maybe that's mostly his fault, because the people here would probably listen, but Akira doesn't trust easy. The only way he really knows how to bond with people is through his fists, or through similar circumstance. It's actually kinda funny if he stepped back to think about why he's here, right now.
And right now it means he's both half-curling in on himself and half leaning back. He is tired, so tired, but in this moment he's able to breathe out just a little easier. ]
[ He feels that, he feels it so much. Sometimes, carrying the weight of everything around you can be a little too much to bear. It weighs you down and you just get used to it and when you finally get a chance to let it go and-- you realize how tired you are.
He squeezes Akira's hand once more, slightly tugging it, trying to get Akira to look at him.
Let him carry more of this for you, at least for tonight. ]
...huh? [ It takes a tug or two but eventually Akira does look at Bertolt. Would being able to exchange words make this easier, or harder? There's so much he doesn't understand right now, but as much as he can be, he's here. ]
[ Just quietly, without much miming or charades, he just leans forward and taps his forehead against Akira's. There's nothing more there, just another silent offer of companionship. Maybe words would make this easier, but Bertolt is doing what feels right to him. ]
I think I almost felt that one. [ Time for him to get into this with well it can't be called a tap, more along the lines of a bump, but it's not a full headbutt either. ]
[ This is stupid, they're stupid. Of course Akira retaliates, but one thing he's forgotten in the midst of everything else is that he's pretty far into the bottle at this point. He can hold his liquor pretty well, but asking him to do so while literally butting heads is a bit much.
He kinda slumps over half into Bertolt considering how close they are and groans. ]
...rematch. [ Closing his eyes and mumbling more than talking now: ] ...thanks.
[ They really are stupid and that's why this works for them. Unfortunately, Bertolt has to let go of Akira's hand when he slumps into it as both of his arms come up to steady him. If he could talk, he would have let out an embarrassed... well, some kind of sound between a squeak and shriek.
His face flushes even more now with how close they are. But he doesn't let go-- He just leans in again and taps his head against Akira's once more. ]
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He does notice the flush, but he isn't a stranger to what alcohol does to people, and he's honestly used to being stared at too. But maybe there's an inkling back there somewhere, that he should be picking up on something else. ]
You want more? [ He refills his own glass and holds up the bottle and honestly will probably keep his shirt like this for as long as they're here talking cause he really doesn't like form fitting clothes and sees no downside to this. ]
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He bites his lip again, shaking his head trying to clear his thoughts a bit. It's fine. ]
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Akira obliges, and dips back into his drink. ]
There's more to it, but we can take a break for a bit. This is much better than the last time I drank this much to answer stupid questions.
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But he stops and nods his head, taking another drink. How many drinks is this? His third? He should probably stop soon but he has the feeling he'll need this. For as tense as he usually is, he looks more relaxed, a combination of being around Akira and the alcohol. He stretches out his legs and leans back against the wall again, letting out a small sigh of relief. ]
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So I guess, is there anything you wanna ask me? Can't be stupider than Rameel.
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Bertolt shifts his glass so that it's in one hand and then with his free hand, he reaches over and very slowly takes one of Akira's hands in his. And then he looks at Akira's face as if to ask "Is this alright?" ]
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It takes Akira a few seconds to process what is happening for several reasons, not the least of which is his increasing state of inebriation, but it's also not the most important one either. He'd feel lost in this moment even if he was stone cold sober.
Some gear clacks in his mind that this is the same situation as when Rosé would wink at him and say that he's her favorite, or when she would invite herself over to his room in the dead of night, greeting him with a mischievous smile and light laughter. His reaction was always the same no matter how much she upped the ante; steadfastly ignoring the topic and kicking her out if need be. This is the same, but different.
But right now, neither of those seem to be an option. He doesn't feel a desire to pull back for one, and now that he's noticed it seems impossible to ignore (he's not even sure if he would want to, but his thoughts never get that far). There's that conversation he had with Rameel which is probably a big reason, but also with Yoo Joonghyuk that make him pause. Pausing is however, a step up from not seeing or refusing to see.
His eyes are a bit wide as he glances from their hands to Bertolt's face, a slight flush apparent, whether that be from the whiskey or the situation impossible to discern. His hand stays there as he finds his voice, because this isn't a situation where he can lapse into silence either. ]
...you better not be asking me to dance.
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But that pause from Akira is probably one of the longest moments Bertolt has felt in some time. He's never stepped up and done anything like this before (in his mind, Reiner's voice echoes for him to tell Annie but this feels more certain, more real). He's nervous enough that he's not even sweating, so-- no clammy hand touching at least?
But then Akira speaks and doesn't move his hand away and Bertolt feels part of the tension ease out of him. Ok, this is not bad--
He gives Akira a shy smile and shakes his head. As drunk as they are, they probably shouldn't start dancing anytime soon. Especially not with Akira's shirt still undone.
That would certainly lead to more rumors.
Instead he scoots the tiniest bit closer and gives Akira's hand a small squeeze. He wants it clear what he's trying to say to him, what he's trying to tell him. ]
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With his hand squeezed it's more apparent if it wasn't already, and Nagako picks her head up from the floor to look over. Her eyes are bright but not hostile, and she's clearly aware that something is going on over there. ]
I, uh— [ He doesn't squeeze back, but after a beat his fingers brush lightly against Bertolt's, maybe in a small show of exploration. ]
...did you get my last letter? I sent it Sunday.
[ There is a reason for this but words are very hard right now. ]
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If only Idi were still here for Nagako to loop around her snout for nuzzles. But, no more daemons for the ghosts.
Another smile and he seems to relax a bit more when he feels Akira's fingers brush against his. Alright, this is... good. This is very good.
But he shakes his head at that. ]
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Lemme finish that story then. So after I woke up when I died—I didn't know what the hell was going on. But I woke up in a pile of corpses that had been impaled clean through which didn't make any sense. Rin and I both were using swords, and swords don't stab like that, not for long anyway.
The whole crap with Rin this weekend finally made me realize. I had an idea before then but—I don't know what you can see, but Rin is half a demon or whatever, and it was that half that came out and killed Tsuru.
...one of my partners back home said something weird to me, once. I don't wanna get into it, but she basically said we're the same, that we're both monsters. I had no idea what the hell she was going on about at the time, she's always been out there, but most people in the occult are.
I don't remember what happened on that mountain but I can still feel it. My bloodmetry went out of control, looping and looping and looping and I turned into something and then I died.
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Except he has full control when he does.
He shifts slightly, turning to Akira to give him all his attention as he listens to the rest of the story play out. Bertolt does nothing else but watch Akira and listen to this. He squeezes Akira's hand once more when he states that he turned into something and died.
He wants to talk to him, he wants to speak out about what this means, but he can't. Instead, what he does is set down his glass, still unfinished, and shift a little more. With that hand now free, he reaches over and places it on Akira's shoulder, wanting to be comforting.
Please talk to him more. ]
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The clink of Bertolt's glass prompts him to put down his own, the edges of his vision are the slightest bit soft which can keep for now. ]
...there's a plan for that here if it happens again, because I'm not just gonna stop using my bloodmetry either. Even if it wasn't Tsuru, I still would have done it. [ That is apparently all he has to say for now, and he closes his eyes. His fingers on his bare hand curl inward, seeking. ]
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He shifts the hand holding Akira's slightly, slowly threading their fingers together, wanting to give him something more to hold onto. Then he moves again, closing the distance between them more. It may no longer be cuddle week, but he just slowly presses his side against Akira's.
Small touches, just enough to say "I'm here". ]
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Maybe that's mostly his fault, because the people here would probably listen, but Akira doesn't trust easy. The only way he really knows how to bond with people is through his fists, or through similar circumstance. It's actually kinda funny if he stepped back to think about why he's here, right now.
And right now it means he's both half-curling in on himself and half leaning back. He is tired, so tired, but in this moment he's able to breathe out just a little easier. ]
...fuck.
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He squeezes Akira's hand once more, slightly tugging it, trying to get Akira to look at him.
Let him carry more of this for you, at least for tonight. ]
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You'd need to headbutt me a lot harder than that.
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He kinda slumps over half into Bertolt considering how close they are and groans. ]
...rematch. [ Closing his eyes and mumbling more than talking now: ] ...thanks.
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His face flushes even more now with how close they are. But he doesn't let go-- He just leans in again and taps his head against Akira's once more. ]
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Mn?
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