[ It's a childish urge, one stemming from not so long ago on a couch in a different home, to utter an I'm not tired. He doesn't. Only huffs out an irritated exhale at Close your eyes. He isn't a goddamn child.

But he doesn't move.

Doesn't do anything.

He is tired. Mind and body worked up from a hole spotted hours ago. A gleam of snow globe with a delusion inside covering it up.

The hole isn't going anywhere and - ]

It isn't.

[ It's a moment after. Two. Three. Five. If Maruki fell asleep in that time, Akechi wouldn't be shocked. It doesn't stop him speaking anyway. ]

But it will only grow. Pests dig where they're most unwanted.

[ It will bloom. Not for Akechi Goro, who is accustomed to leaving sentimentality and memory behind in pursuit of something larger. It will grow for a man who hides memories in trinkets and puts them in a place all can see. Who walks over an untouched toy when he cleans. Akechi ignores the small mouse out of principle. He doesn't care if stays in a dusty corner by the stairwell.

And if Akechi lets his body relax to the point his own shoulder rests against a stalwart man -

Well it's only an accident he doesn't care to fix, much like the toy he steps over. ]

But I suppose it can be patched from the roof too.