[ Don't worry, is what had always managed to pass between them. In the time they'd spent as children in that town against the shore, that had been the sentiment that had come in his nature inclination to protect Akira with all that he had. Even if these threats back then had been only perceived, Ryo had always angled to make certain no harm would come to him. To Akira, who once gathered his small shell of a body into his arms — had held him tight and warm against his chest and cried into his damp hair that Ryo no longer had to be frightened anymore.
How could he be frightened, when Akira needed him? Fear was a pointless reaction to have in this moment even despite Akira's explanations, when all it would do was cloud his judgement. So, like the fog of nerves that Akira shakes from Ryo's touch and voice alone, Ryo frees himself from bonds of the typical. He always has. He always would.
The world had always been dangerous. This place, no matter where they were or their circumstances, was the same. They could plan for all that came after. Ryo, after all, had a promise to keep. He would protect Akira, no matter the cost. ]
Don't pull, [ he says, more gentle than not. It's okay. Of course he'd known Akira was resisting the urge to surge back, to tug himself free of his predicament. Humans — all humans —, fought and struggled against their basest instincts. In situations where one is trapped, epinephrine and norepinephrine flood the whole of one's system. In that stress, in that panic — the body prepares itself to flee or fight tooth and nail for survival. Akira, he knew, wouldn't feel it for long if he injured himself further trying his hand against it — but, that wouldn't do well for Akira. Not here, in the end. Not here, on this station millions of miles from home with little to no resources that Ryo could thus give to him.
He again pushes down the tight, insidious feeling that wells up against his ribs when Akira admits to him that he can no longer move his fingers. He knows it would just be a matter of retrieval in normal circumstances, but these circumstances are no longer normal. He can't just procure flesh and bone should he not be able to solve for the hypothetical "x." He takes a faint breath, eyes scanning their surroundings.
The corridor beyond them terminates on the far end. Which means — ]
Akira, [ Ryo starts. Akira's name an effortless sound, well-worn and comfortable against his tongue. ] I want you to try to use that body of yours. [ From his pocket, he finally removes the gun he'd woken up with. It isn't as convincing up close as he hopes it would be, its muzzle already stained with a peculiar residue from his earlier experiments. He takes a few steps further out, enough so the distance between them is substantial enough for him to hopefully not feel the full of what he'd ask him to do. Enough so that he's bodily in the middle of the adjoining corridor, a buffer between where Akira is and the rest of the station. ]
Don't use your strength, [ he continues, the pale of his eyes settling back on him for a scant moment. He chooses his next words carefully. A precaution, if anyone is within earshot. ] That metal should become pliable enough to free you if we give it enough heat.
[ He steps to the corner of Akira's range of sight. It'd be enough to assure he could keep an eye on both situations at once without too much damage. ]
no subject
How could he be frightened, when Akira needed him? Fear was a pointless reaction to have in this moment even despite Akira's explanations, when all it would do was cloud his judgement. So, like the fog of nerves that Akira shakes from Ryo's touch and voice alone, Ryo frees himself from bonds of the typical. He always has. He always would.
The world had always been dangerous. This place, no matter where they were or their circumstances, was the same. They could plan for all that came after. Ryo, after all, had a promise to keep. He would protect Akira, no matter the cost. ]
Don't pull, [ he says, more gentle than not. It's okay. Of course he'd known Akira was resisting the urge to surge back, to tug himself free of his predicament. Humans — all humans —, fought and struggled against their basest instincts. In situations where one is trapped, epinephrine and norepinephrine flood the whole of one's system. In that stress, in that panic — the body prepares itself to flee or fight tooth and nail for survival. Akira, he knew, wouldn't feel it for long if he injured himself further trying his hand against it — but, that wouldn't do well for Akira. Not here, in the end. Not here, on this station millions of miles from home with little to no resources that Ryo could thus give to him.
He again pushes down the tight, insidious feeling that wells up against his ribs when Akira admits to him that he can no longer move his fingers. He knows it would just be a matter of retrieval in normal circumstances, but these circumstances are no longer normal. He can't just procure flesh and bone should he not be able to solve for the hypothetical "x." He takes a faint breath, eyes scanning their surroundings.
The corridor beyond them terminates on the far end. Which means — ]
Akira, [ Ryo starts. Akira's name an effortless sound, well-worn and comfortable against his tongue. ] I want you to try to use that body of yours. [ From his pocket, he finally removes the gun he'd woken up with. It isn't as convincing up close as he hopes it would be, its muzzle already stained with a peculiar residue from his earlier experiments. He takes a few steps further out, enough so the distance between them is substantial enough for him to hopefully not feel the full of what he'd ask him to do. Enough so that he's bodily in the middle of the adjoining corridor, a buffer between where Akira is and the rest of the station. ]
Don't use your strength, [ he continues, the pale of his eyes settling back on him for a scant moment. He chooses his next words carefully. A precaution, if anyone is within earshot. ] That metal should become pliable enough to free you if we give it enough heat.
[ He steps to the corner of Akira's range of sight. It'd be enough to assure he could keep an eye on both situations at once without too much damage. ]