#urltba

His heart climbs into his throat, does not jump, or claw, or fly, it crawls, like so many insects, up from his chest, as though clambering up his ribs to slink into the hollow of his breastbone and then into the back of his mouth. 

[Kuebiko]: I’m not exactly busy.[Kuebiko]: We can meet at my apartment. [Kuebiko]: No, actually...

His heart steals his breath, seems to sit behind his teeth and devour it like a cat stealing the soul of a child in its crib. He tries to decipher the emotion, fear? Is he afraid? No, that can’t be. There is no reason to be afraid, and it is not an emotion that comes with ease to him in any case. 

He scoffs to himself. Dancing around his answers, like he doesn’t have every right to waltz around his own issues when faced with a stranger. But the stranger is correct, he knows better at this point, so he simply considers the question at length. 

The question makes his pupils dilate, then contract, for a moment it is the only movement at all, even his breath seems to still, he thinks of some of his...Recent, exploits, things he wouldn’t share with his current circle of acquaintances, and how quickly he bounced back from them. Have things been odd. He gets the feeling this person does not mean the usual oddities of his life, it is a question that pierces to the marrow of him.

[Kuebiko]: Yes.

There’s that buzzing again.

He’s quicker to the phone this time, not quick, but quicker.

Stranger.

For some reason, he’d expected it, it had to be that or a wrong call. A wrong text.

[Kuebiko]: Yes.

He has no idea what to save the number under.

There’s an urge to save it under ‘Pain in the ass’ but he decides against it, instead, he simply saves it under the name ‘Stranger’, it’s as good a name as any.

He doesn’t bother sending another reply, it feels pointless to do so. He wishes he could say it’s because he’s done chasing after people who don’t want to be chased, but in reality he just doesn’t want to be a bother. 

The number is saved, and the phone allowed to slip back onto his chest momentarily, he still wants a drink. But not here, not in this universe, not where he feels like he’s being judged.It takes concentrated effort to get up and dress properly.

[Kuebiko]: I could ask you the same question[Kuebiko]: Why does it matter how I’ve been doing?[Kuebiko]: I’m not obligated to take off all of my emotional clothing for someone who won’t tell me who they are or why they want to know.

If you aren’t going to answer, don’t bother replying.

He isn’t sure whether to scoff, or let his lips tug into the joyless smile they so desperately want to. How pathetic, even now, he feels like he’s being used, but these days, it’s the closest thing to affection he gets, everybody wants something, a shoulder to cry on or a body to warm their bed.

His knuckles have turned white from the grasp he has on his phone.

In the end, everyone in the world, they aren’t much different from the rulers of the palaces he once fought so hard to crumble. Everyone in the world is simply trying to satiate some selfish desire. Everyone is--

For a few long minutes, he closes his eyes and reminds himself that isn’t true, people were good, he had met good people, he’s just tired, and in a poor mood from being unceremoniously texted by some faceless person who knows more than they should. There wasn’t anything wrong with wanting support or love, and if he can provide those things, even for a moment, who is he to do anything but give them?

[Kuebiko]: As far as I know, you’re a stranger.[Kuebiko]: So the fact that I’m replying shows that I’m lonely, there you have it. That’s how I’ve been.

[Kuebiko]: Satisfied?

Lonely did not even begin to cover it, but at the very least, it is not a lie. He should have just gone to the bar when the urge first hit. Even now, he hates the fact that he was desperate enough for contact that he would reply honestly at all, he wishes he hadn’t.

     He sits up further.Not interested in lies? Who could possibly know how he was feeling besides himself?Even Morgana never seemed to catch on, and now, even he had left.

His fingers idle over the edges of the phone. Something tightens in his chest, he finds that he hates the feeling. He’s fine, life goes on, the world spins, when he closes his eyes, he swears he can almost feel it, it’s grounding. Whatever emotion had begun to well up, he’s killed it for now.

[Kuebiko]: Who are you?[Kuebiko]:  [Typing...][Kuebiko]:  [Typing...][UNSENT] [Kuebiko]: I’m just fine, I answered your question.

He deletes the last one before he can bring himself to send it. Some part of him wants to frisbee the phone as hard as he can at the wall, he isn’t entirely sure why. He desperately does not want to tell the truth. 

[Kuebiko]: Actually, forget my first question, I don’t think you’ll answer anyway.[Kuebiko]: I have a different question to ask in its stead.[Kuebiko]: How did you know I was lying?

    Something rouses in the dark pit of his chest, a low lub-dub.Don’t do this to me, I’d finally given up.

He drags himself upwards slightly, enough that he can be considered sitting up.Now, he considers the original question:

In all honesty, how have you been.

Well now, he isn’t going to answer that honestly at all now is he?The question is nice, kind even, it’s been a while since anyone has asked him that earnestly, even before the Phantom Thieves broke up, they hadn’t exactly taken as much interest in his emotions as he had in theirs, which was fine with him, he wanted for nothing but their happiness.

[Kuebiko]: An unknown number doesn’t garner much trust.[Kuebiko]: If you were someone I knew, wouldn’t you give me your name?[Kuebiko]: [Typing...][Kuebiko]: [Typing...][Kuebiko]: [Typing...][Kuebiko]: But I’m fine, just debating what to do with my evening.

Even now, talking to someone faceless, you’re lying.

Telling the truth to some faceless stranger, maybe it would be cathartic, or maybe it would just be a burden on them, he can’t do that. If he can’t be actively helpful, the least he can do is not be a burden. 

He watches the phone with the same intent as a falcon who has seen a mouse.

No, that isn’t true either.

Buzzing. Probably just an apology.

But he cocks the phone up lazily anyways, squinting at the brightness momentarily.This person is pushy aren’t they?

[Kuebiko]: You’ve reached Kurusu Akira.[Kuebiko]: Did a girl give you a fake number? Sorry.

His brow furrows, but the phone is watched this time rather than left to sit on his chest like some ignored pet begging for attention. 

He wishes in a way, that he would have to keep his heart from jumping into his throat, that his fingers would tense, that he would swallow heavily, that his body would give some indication that this number does, in fact, want to hear from him.