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“Can I give you a hug?”
“...If you so wish.”
Akechi didn’t ask for his pity. He never wanted anyone to think so lowly of him. And yet here he was, practically pouring his heart out to this boy who was as good as a stranger to him, not to mention his current target as a hitman.
Here he was, letting this frizzy haired brat hear his history, embrace him, touch him, allowing himself full vulnerability. He felt weak. He felt pathetic. And yet, he found himself leaning into Ren’s hold nonetheless. What an absolute fool.
“It’s okay,” Ren gently spoke, his voice sounding so...reassuring. Akechi felt his chest burn, not with wildfire, but more like a cozy hearth warming up an icy space that so long was left to freeze over. He hated it nonetheless.
Ren must have been enjoying this far more than he should, either that or Akechi showed some sort of social cue, because the black haired boy began tracing circles around his back with the lightest finger touch. And Akechi made a noise that embarrassed him far too much just simply knowing that such a sound came from his own voice.
But Ren was quick to react, withdrawing his hand and stepping back to look into the detective’s eyes. “Can I touch you there?” He inquired with not an ounce of dissatisfaction in his tone. Akechi internally despised just how polite and compassionate this boy was, but with honest reason.
“Yes, I’m just...” Akechi grasped for some sort of casual response he could possibly give, “I’m not used...to being touched like that.”
It wasn’t false. He had never actually received any sort of physical affection. Come to think of it, his shitty-excuse-of-a-father never physically praised him either, not even when he disguised manipulation behind so-called fatherly love. The concept was foreign to him, and the act itself was unheard of.
Ren smiled that sickly sweet smile he was so good at giving. “May I touch you again?”
God, why does he have to be like that.
Akechi can’t even form words at this point and gives a confident nod, then leans deeply into the embrace and produces even more shameful sounds as soft fingers draw lines across his back, down his spine, massaging at the nape of his neck and continuing along. He can’t even help it at this point. There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about this situation, and yet here he was whimpering at the touch of a boy he was literally supposed to be gaining intel on to eventually kill.
But somehow, that didn’t matter at the moment. He could just lose himself in the soft touch of somebody that showed him interest and offered companionship without even knowing who he was. Somebody cared about him. Somebody cared enough that they willingly chose to comfort him.
And it felt so good.