Love; cliche and overused.
Romantic?
Feeding an ego, perhaps.
Romanticism; poetry and stories and music.
Beautiful?
Maybe.
It was like suffocating.
He'd try to breathe, slowly at first.
He'd start slow, speed up, but there wasn't enough air still. There was too much; it took up the space where oxygen was supposed to go. He didn't think he'd try to stop it. It was painful, sure, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything.
You steal my breath away, Kusuo-kun.
His lungs would fill, still empty. Air. It didn't register correctly.
Dyspnea.
There was air, Akechi knew there was air, yet he didn't feel it.
Faint.
He'd faint.
It wasn't true, because oxygen was entering his lungs.
Causes: Anemia, asthma, anxiety, heart or lung problems, a history of smoking, etc.
He didn't smoke. Seeing his grandfather coughing and wheezing scared him away from it quickly. He wasn't sick. He wasn't anemic.
He knew the symptoms, he knew the signs, he knew himself.
Anxiety?
Love.
Love made no sense.
He was healthy; at least, healthy enough.
You cause me to suffocate.
But that's not romantic.
His stomach hurt sometimes.
Takashi was long gone; it wasn't that.
Full. Or was it empty?
Either way, it was wrong. It seemed wrong. It hurt him. Akechi could feel the pressure; the strange phenomenon every time he thought about Saiki.
I can feel the butterflies in my stomach.
Butterflies.
What an odd choice.
Butterflies were light and airy; delicate and graceful. They fluttered softly and sweetly, all around, swirling. It almost tickled.
But this didn't tickle. It wasn't soft and sweet.
It was more like...
Bugs?
Wasps.
Wasps stung.
Acetylcholine.
A chemical in a wasp's venom.
It causes pain. It makes it hurt.
Noradrenaline.
Raises your blood pressure. The physical symptoms were different than he'd imagined.
Love can do this?
Love can do this.
They flew and fluttered, sure, but they hit the edges, the walls of his insides, stinging again and again.
But Kusuo-kun hates bugs.
Phospholipase B.
It breaks down the membrane of a cell.
Breaks it down, destroying it.
Symptoms last for 30-40 minutes. They stung one after the other.
You're tearing me apart slowly.
But that's not romantic.
Sublime.
Beautiful.
Beautiful is overused.
You are absolutely intoxicating.
Like fine wine.
Intoxication.
1: a strong excitement or elation.
No. Too common.
2: the condition of having physical or mental control markedly diminished by the effects of alcohol or drugs.
Drunk.
He was drunk.
Drunk on love?
Drunk.
People feel different when they're drunk. Not that Akechi had ever been drunk before.
Sober and spinning. Truly disorienting.
Nausea.
Swirling sensations, echoing throughout him. He almost felt ill. It didn't make him want to vomit the same way, but of course, it wasn't the same. Dizzy.
Confusion.
Confusing; it's confusing. But he was okay. It didn't make sense, but really, what does? Akechi could've gone into an entire philosophical discussion about. Philosophy was overrated and underrated and nobody and everybody cared about it.
Slurred speech.
Not slurring, but stuttering and knotted. He could talk well; fluent and fluid. But not anymore, not with him, not the same. Sputtering like a broken sink, quiet, and quiet, and then rushing out, all at once.
Drunken rambling. It doesn't change much.
Cheeks flushed pink.
Blushing?
Flustered.
Maybe he'd laugh for no reason.
Psychosomatic symptoms?
You make me sick.
But that's not romantic.
Maybe it was when he walked into the room, or when he opened the door after ten minutes of Akechi knocking; waiting patiently.
He glowed.
Sparkling, glittering... No.
You light up my life.
Shining, maybe. Don't look at the sun, they say, because it hurts.
They were right; it does hurt, in a way.
Pain?
Love.
It was bright; he was bright?
Excessive light causes damage to the retinas.
Long-term damage.
Damage?
Was it?
Love.
Damaging, but still fun.
Fun?
Beautiful.
But beautiful is overused.
Long-term damage.
It'd be worth it, he thought.
Time passes slow, agonizingly slow, and once it passes, it passes too fast.
Time passes too fast.
Cliche.
It was overwhelming.
Overwhelmed?
Lovely.
He loved it. It blinded him, but he loved it.
If he could be the last thing he'd see, he didn't think he'd be upset.
Blinded; unable to see things as he should.
Rational and collected, as he always used to be.
He wanted it to be long-term. Akechi wanted this to last forever.
Even if he couldn't see.
You blinded me.
But that's not romantic.
Luring.
Alluring.
Beautiful?
You drew me in.
Bait.
Captured by something.
He only had a minimal understanding of his powers. Saiki could physically confine him; trap him, if he wanted to.
He'd picked him up, floated him in the air, even if it was for a few seconds.
He probably could've done it for hours.
He never pushed him away, which was a good thing, surely.
In fact, it was quite the opposite.
He pulled him in.
No telekinesis.
No hypnosis.
No powers.
Akechi thought it was less him pulling him in, and more him getting drawn in.
He wouldn't blame him. He couldn't help it.
It was his own fault, he thought, for letting it happen in the first place.
It wasn't a regret, either.
Sometimes he felt like he'd never be able to be apart from him.
Separation anxiety.
Common in small children.
He was a small child, said Kusuo-kun.
He wasn't wrong.
He promised not to leave him; not again.
He wanted to thank him.
Gratitude?
Attachment.
Addiction.
If he was apart too long, he thought he might've simply collapsed.
You have me trapped.
But that's not romantic.
Love; cliche and overused.
Romantic-
'What are you thinking about?'
Akechi took the plate from Saiki's hand. Saiki gave him one of the forks he held and sat down beside him, leaning his head on his shoulder.
'It's hard to understand it, but I heard a lot of my name and something about wasps.'
Akechi wrapped his arm behind him, running his fingers through his hair from the side.
He hummed quietly.
'Touma?'
"Don't worry about it, Kusuo-kun," he whispered.
He sighs and begins to sink into Saiki's neck.
"You're too much for me sometimes."
...
"Oh dear, that sounds a bit rude, doesn't it?"
'How am I supposed to respond to that?'
Akechi smiled and kissed Saiki on the cheek.
"I'm sorry."
'You know, you're too much for me sometimes.'
Akechi chuckled softly.
"Oh really? How so?"
'You think and talk too much.'
Saiki raised his fork to Akechi's mouth. He took the bite of cake off the fork.
"Mmpf mmf hmpf-"
'Stop it.'
"All done! I was saying that while I know you're only trying to keep me quiet with cake, I still appreciate it." Akechi put his fork up to Saiki's mouth. "Here you go."
'Thank you.'
Akechi sighed, his breath shuddering slightly.
'You overthink things.'
"I know," he whispered.
'I'd prefer you talk for hours than be all sad and quiet.'
Akechi felt flattered; Saiki wasn't one to say such sappy things.
Not sappy...
Romantic?
...
"Did you know people are estimated to think over 2,500 thoughts in only an hour?"
Akechi fed Saiki another bite of cake.
'I did not know that.'
"Some people think more than others, too."
'I bet you think the most.'
Akechi laughed.
"I admit, I do think a lot. That's why I have so much to say. Normally, you wouldn't notice all the thoughts, since most of them happen in your subconscious..."
I love you.
Love; cliche and overused.
Simple.
Things are cliches for a reason.