[Akira is both aware and not aware of the type of attention that Ryo lavishes upon him. Naturally he picks up on something, the sensitivity of his empathetic heart too strong to do otherwise, but there's a kind of internal deflection that he does upon comprehending it, systematically informing whatever impression he might have drawn that it was most likely biased, colored by Akira's own thoughts and feelings on the matter. They are two people so intricately connected in their lives that they shaped the other in their own inverse, but Akira only allows himself to wear the bright-eyed gazes and faint smiles as what they were at surface-value, perfectly undermining the only gift he came by naturally. It was human, in a sad sort of way — they were naturally predisposed towards being paradoxical and hypocritical.
He should've expected such a line of reasoning from Ryo. Mostly because, well. It's so reasonable, so rational. He always seemed to think that those sorts of rules were the way to properly categorize the world when the world itself was wild and chaotic, only playing by its own natural laws when it best suited it.
Or maybe that's the argument Akira would give, to justify himself. Or maybe not. Did he really need to argue anything? It wouldn't change the past, and as far as he's concerned, it's a win enshrined well enough in memory that he won't allow it to be taken away just by the sway of words.]
Yeah, sure. [The words are blithe, dismissing. He sits up on the couch, looking sidelong at his friend with a sly sort of smile.] You can say that, but whatever. You know everything.
[Another easily-presented defense. One that might not be perfectly right, but it's close enough that Akira feels emboldened by it.
He grows still, thinking, a low hum in his throat as he seems to consider Ryo's suggestion.]
Hmm. Nah. Pass.
[Calculations? What is he, a computer? Akira doesn't need numbers to confirm what he feels to be true in the pit of his gut.
He stands, turning to face Ryo with one hand on his hip.] Maybe not exactly, but, [and before he could to much to react, he reaches out to lightly flick Ryo in the center of his forehead,] maybe we'll figure out some way to settle the score some other way.
[And he decides to marry together his desire to seem cool and also his burgeoning sense of wanderlust, turning on his heel and beginning to stroll out the door without another word having been said.]
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He should've expected such a line of reasoning from Ryo. Mostly because, well. It's so reasonable, so rational. He always seemed to think that those sorts of rules were the way to properly categorize the world when the world itself was wild and chaotic, only playing by its own natural laws when it best suited it.
Or maybe that's the argument Akira would give, to justify himself. Or maybe not. Did he really need to argue anything? It wouldn't change the past, and as far as he's concerned, it's a win enshrined well enough in memory that he won't allow it to be taken away just by the sway of words.]
Yeah, sure. [The words are blithe, dismissing. He sits up on the couch, looking sidelong at his friend with a sly sort of smile.] You can say that, but whatever. You know everything.
[Another easily-presented defense. One that might not be perfectly right, but it's close enough that Akira feels emboldened by it.
He grows still, thinking, a low hum in his throat as he seems to consider Ryo's suggestion.]
Hmm. Nah. Pass.
[Calculations? What is he, a computer? Akira doesn't need numbers to confirm what he feels to be true in the pit of his gut.
He stands, turning to face Ryo with one hand on his hip.] Maybe not exactly, but, [and before he could to much to react, he reaches out to lightly flick Ryo in the center of his forehead,] maybe we'll figure out some way to settle the score some other way.
[And he decides to marry together his desire to seem cool and also his burgeoning sense of wanderlust, turning on his heel and beginning to stroll out the door without another word having been said.]