note: i am not intersex and do not claim to be an expert on the subject of intersex people and their bodies. if ive made any mistakes in this, please feel free to inform me. i do not go into detail about accelerators anatomy, or what 'type' of genitals/reproductive organs he might have.

there is a moment where he briefly describes his body as medically being closer to a womans than a mans, is nauseated by the thought, and immediately rewords the statement. during this entire conversation, touma does not misgender him.

now before anyone gets on me about writing accelerator as intersex, there are canon implications (his conversation with last order that i reference, i think it was in volume 5 of the light novels but i cant be 100% sure) so ive written him as such for...years...and will not stop. thanks.

now that ive said all that, last night i was feeling nostalgic about raildex and had a total emotional breakdown over accelerator and slammed 3.5k words of this out despite having been awake for over 24 hours. i just went ape shitt. i was possessed. i needed touma/accelerator content and i needed it right then and there.

so like...i did that. title is a lyric taken from lady lambs 'aubergine.'

The thing is, I...really like spending this sort of time with you, Accelerator.

It doesn't make sense. Accelerator can still hear the words ringing in his ears, can still vividly recall the way Touma's ears had burned red as he said those words, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets and barely maintaining eye contact.

He can barely recall the lead up to it, though. Watching Last Order and Index debate over what to order for lunch—he thinks he had said something, maybe, about it being nice to have people to eat with, and—

Touma, with that look on his face. The faintest of tremors in his voice as he said that. Then the girls had called out to them, and it had been like some sort of dream—Touma hadn't said anything else, and Accelerator hadn't gotten the chance to. They had eaten, paid, left, parted ways—acting like that statement had never happened.

He lays in his futon, disoriented by it all, even hours later. Surely Touma hadn't meant it like that. Unbidden, his hand reaches out for his phone and almost snags it on the wire plugging his choker into its charger.

No texts. Should he say something? Was he joking, or was it some strange and vivid fantasy? It couldn't have been, though, because even at the worst moments of his pathetic hero-worship he had never bothered to even consider the possibility of Touma ever, ever returning his feelings—and even as he had slowly taken Touma off the pedestal he had placed him on in his heart, feelings remaining the same regardless, he never thought—

His phone hums abruptly in his hands. Accelerator is so startled he almost drops it, but it's not from Touma—it's from Aihou, apologizing for the fact she'll be held up with work and unable to make it home for dinner.

He sends a simple reply, telling her it's fine and he can handle it, then almost drops his phone again as another text arrives.

This time it is from Touma. He stares at the notification with something like anxiety curdling in his gut, swiping his thumb along the screen to open it anyway.

Sorry if what I said was weird, is how the text starts. I didn't mean to say that. Or, I didn't mean to say it then. It's something I've thought about for a while now. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but if you do, then I have some stuff I'd like to say to you properly.

As Accelerator reads, another message appears. If you don't want to talk about it, or if you want to just tell me to fuck off, that's fine too. Sorry.

He rereads both texts until a headache grows behind his eyes from the light of his phone screen. The words don't change—the implication in them is obvious. Accelerator has to put his phone down because he realizes his hand is trembling.

There's no way to read what Touma said wrong. He—likes Accelerator, in some capacity beyond the strange friendship and camaraderie they've formed.

He should be happy. In a way, he is, but it's a distant feeling—it doesn't feel like his own. Accelerator mostly feels wary.

Accelerator likes Touma. This is true. In fact, if a person like him is capable of such a thing, Accelerator might even go as far as to call the feeling love—surely, after two years of this desperate ache in his chest, 'like' is too small a word for it.

But if he and Touma become anything more than they are, it means he has to talk about things he's never needed to speak of before. And that doesn't scare Accelerator, not really, but—

He closes his eyes and breathes. He tries to think about it—closing the distance between himself and Touma once and for all. Just the thought of grasping the hand that had broken apart Accelerator's world so long ago makes the ache in his chest all the more prominent.

He lifts his phone again. Touma hasn't sent anything else since the last message and slowly, Accelerator types out his response.

It wasn't anything weirder than what you usually say. Can we meet tomorrow if you're free? Last Order and Worst will be busy so they won't tag along.

Is it too much? Not enough? Accelerator doesn't know. He hits send anyway. Less than thirty seconds later, a reply appears.

Tomorrow is good. I'll make sure Index won't be around if you wanted to come to my place. Or did you want to meet somewhere else?

So considerate. Accelerator almost smiles, but he feels too tired.

Your place is fine. I don't want people listening.

Maybe that makes it sound like he's ashamed. He's not. Touma will understand when he explains; it's not something he can express over text, and it's something he needs to gather his thoughts on before he can put it into words.

They set a time. Noon tomorrow. It's already evening—or rather, it's only early evening—and yet Accelerator feels so very tired. He puts down his phone, unplugs his choker from the charger, and forces himself to stand up. His right leg aches under his weight as he does, but he doesn't reach for his cane as he drags himself to the bathroom to freshen up before having to prepare dinner.

He stares at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. The sickly pallor of his skin, the pink-red of his eyes, the off-white of his hair. How small he is, how thin and frail his body is and always will be, his clothes hanging off his frame.

Accelerator has never felt ashamed or disgusted of his body and the state it's in. He feels ugly but not in a way he thinks is self-deprecating—he looks less like a person and more like a ghost. That, combined with the things he's done, makes him feel abhorrent.

But he knows, more than he once did, about what others think of people like him. He hears it on television, sees it in comics and in books. The scientists had acknowledged both his body and his identity with clinical disinterest, more focused on his ability than anything else. They didn't care about what he was or wasn't, only what he would become for them.

Accelerator had thought that meant the entire world carry the same disinterest. He can't remember what his parents had thought of him, but Aihou and Kikyou don't think anything of it and he tells himself that's what matters.

Last Order had asked, once. Shortly after they had met. You look like a girl, she had said, nothing but innocent curiosity in her childish voice. Are you really a boy, Misaka asks?

She hadn't asked again after he'd given a vague explanation and reaffirmed that, yes, he's a boy.

But Touma is different. Touma will have different expectations of him, has been in this world long enough to consume enough media and meet enough people to know that someone like him might be strange.

He turns off the tap. Last Order will be getting hungry, he thinks distantly, drying his hands on a towel hung by the door. He can worry about how he'll explain things later.

Later, he tells himself.

Later ends up being all night. Accelerator lays awake in his futon, Last Order and Worst sprawled out on either side of him. The sound of their breathing is usually enough to encourage him to doze, but not tonight; he spends hours staring up at the ceiling, thinking of ways to say what he needs to, imagining Touma's reactions.

None of them are strongly negative. He knows Touma well enough to be aware that he won't be disgusted but he might not feel the same about him afterwards. That's fine, Accelerator tells himself, and he almost believes it.

He somehow makes it through breakfast. Kikyou and Aihou give him funny looks throughout, but they don't ask questions. Last Order and Worst head out with Aihou after the dishes are cleared and cleaned off; Accelerator bends over obligingly despite his body protesting so that Last Order can throw her arms around his bony shoulders in a hug.

"Are you heading out, too?" Kikyou asks after they're gone. He wonders how she knows, but decides it isn't worth wondering about—Kikyou and Aihou both always seem to know things about him when they shouldn't. Women's intuition, they always say.

"I'm meeting Touma," he admits, but says nothing else. She hums and doesn't ask questions, wandering back to the living room where she had left her laptop.

Accelerator stays only long enough to find a cardigan to throw on and look for his wallet and keys. He doesn't need to be at Touma's for another two hours but he wants to be somewhere else, so he finds himself wandering to the city park.

He remains on a shaded bench for over an hour and a half, alternating between thinking of what he might say to feeling vaguely nauseated by it all.

Accelerator isn't prone to anxiety, but he thinks that's what this must be. Anxiety, fear, or something like it—he swallows it all down as he checks his phone for the time and heads towards Touma's apartment.

The ten minute walk is excruciating. His entire right side aches more than it should, the light of the sun hurting his eyes more than usual, the nausea in him making him feel nearly dizzy by the time he arrives at Touma's building.

He has to take a moment to breathe before he goes inside. He takes the familiar stairwell, knowing the elevator has been inoperable for weeks. By the time he's at the third floor his leg is throbbing in protest.

Maybe he isn't disgusted by his body, but god does it ever piss him off sometimes. He doesn't hate it—he'd let himself be shot all over again if it meant saving Last Order—but it's annoying to be in so much pain with such frequency.

He shuts the thought down. It's nothing he doesn't deserve—after the untold amount of deaths he's given the Sister's, this is nothing.

Shouldering open the stairwell door, he makes his way to Touma's apartment. There's muffled shouting and cursing and the sound of a cat yowling before he can even finish knocking.

The door is yanked open moments later. Touma's cat, Sphinx, is clinging to a red-faced Touma's shoulder.

"Sorry, Sphinx was—she stole her treat bag, I had to—" he cuts himself off, heaving a sigh, and steps aside to let Accelerator through. "You know. Cats."

"I really don't," Accelerator says, already trying not to smile as he steps into the genkan. Touma's apartment is a tiny thing, the kotatsu still out even as spring bleeds into summer.

He toes out of his shoes, wondering what to say. How does a person start a conversation like this? He isn't sure. He lets himself be caught in Touma's pace, stepping into the guest slippers and following Touma to the kotatsu.

"Sit, do you want anything to drink? Coffee? I managed to actually buy some yesterday—for once they weren't out."

"Coffee's fine," Accelerator says, even though he wants to get to the point. Touma looks relieved, though, so he leans his cane against the nearby TV and slowly eases himself onto the cushion on the floor. He doesn't bother with seiza, knowing how much it will hurt later if he does—Touma is hardly going to care, anyway, so he simply stretches his legs out and leans his side against the kotatsu's edge.

The nausea has become more muted since he arrived. Touma's expression when he'd opened the door—so happy, so relieved, as though he'd thought Accelerator might not show up at all—had replaced the feeling with fond exasperation.

A common experience around Touma, to be sure. The nausea doesn't even return while he waits for him to come back, and it doesn't take long. He returns, Sphinx absent from his shoulder, with two steaming mugs.

"Thanks for coming," Touma says when he places both mugs on the kotatsu, kneeling down on his own cushion. "I know you usually have your hands full, and we saw each other yesterday, so…"

"I'm not as busy as you think I am," Accelerator says, and it's true. He's not doing much these days, aside from running around after Last Order and fending off Worst's attempts to choke him in her sleep.

"Still," Touma says, sounding and looking guilty. Then, "And, about yesterday…"

"Wait," Accelerator interrupts, and hesitates before reaching for the coffee. God, he almost wishes he could drink alcohol, even though his body would riot.

He takes a long mouthful. Touma watches, looking nervous, and Accelerator lowers the mug with a creeping sense of—of something.

"I want to say something first," he says, and try as he might he can't remember any of the speeches he had rehearsed to himself. Still, he needs to say it.

"If...I wasn't reading the implications wrong, right?" He asks, and Touma shakes his head, a little wide eyed. "Then, I need to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything," Touma says, and Accelerator knows. Kamijou Touma is someone he would trust with his life—someone he has trusted with his life. Not only his, but even Last Order's.

"I know," he repeats his thought aloud, because that's the sort of thing you say at a time like this. It's something he doesn't say often enough, and Touma's expression softens.

"I've been in love with you for longer than I want to admit," Accelerator says, and that wasn't actually what he'd meant to say. Touma makes a choked noise of surprise, face reddening. Fuck. Accelerator feels his own face going red, too, and it's far more noticeable on him than it is anyone else.

"You—"

"God, don't make me say it again. Not right now. I didn't—" Accelerator drags a hand over his face, tempted to disconnect from the Misaka Network and just rot.

"The point is," he says, voice somewhat muffled by his hand, "If...you feel anything similar at all, then I'll—I'd like that. Whatever you want to do. But there's something you need to know, first."

He drops his hand from his face to look at Touma again. Touma looks relieved and excited, but has reigned it in at the rest of Accelerator's words.

"I'm listening," he says, and Accelerator swallows.

"When I was born," he starts, then pauses, because he doesn't actually know. He has no idea what the doctors had said, how he had been raised before he was taken to Academy City—but he had no surgeries, and he doesn't know if that's because of his ability preventing it or if his parents had chosen that. Still—

"When I was born," he tries again, "I wasn't...you know my ability stunted my hormone growth, right?" He switches tactics midway through, but Touma doesn't seem to mind.

"I heard, yeah," Touma says, brow furrowed slightly.

"People assume that's all there is to the reason I look like this," Accelerator says. The words are harder to get out than he'd expected; Touma waits, no judgement in his gaze. "It's...part of it. But medically speaking, I guess I'm more of a woman than a man." He grimaces as soon as he says that, the words making him feel sicker than he had expected them to.

"Not like—forget I said that. Fuck," he mutters, rubbing his face again. "I'm not a woman. I was never—I don't know if my parents would have raised me as one or not, but I've never considered myself anything other than a man. What I mean is…"

What the hell does he mean? He doesn't want to say it. He isn't sure how to. He feels dizzy with the urge to be sick and he stiffens at the feeling of Touma's fingers wrapping around his wrist and gently tugging his hand away from his face.

Accelerator lets him. He meets his gaze, and Touma's expression has eased into one of understanding.

"I think I get it," he says quietly. "Your body is different than what most guys would be like, right?"

Accelerator stares at him. The lack of judgement, the earnest understanding, the tenderness in his dark eyes—of course he should have expected as much from Touma, but it still leaves him breathless.

"...Yeah," Accelerator gets out. "Basically."

Touma smiles at him. It's the type of smile he's given Accelerator countless times before, but now it quells the urge to be sick and makes him dizzy with something other than nausea.

"I'm glad you told me," he says. "You didn't have to. I'm happy you trust me that much," he adds, as though Accelerator hasn't trusted him with far more in the past.

"It would have come up," Accelerator gets out. "If we...eventually, it would have. So I wanted to say it now, just in case. I'm not—" he pauses, wondering how to say this, but Touma's expression is as warm as his fingers around his wrist are. "I'm not transgender. I don't consider myself that, since I was allowed to think of myself as whatever I wanted. The medical term is intersex," he says. He thought it would feel odd to say, but it doesn't, not really.

It's something he's only ever discussed in any length before with Heaven Canceller—when he'd been hospitalized after the business with Last Order after they'd met, he'd asked Accelerator if he was interested in hormone stimulants, since his ability acted as a natural blocker. It was the first time anyone had ever asked him such a thing, and just another way his life in those labs had restricted him. In truth, he had barely even known that it was an option before then.

"Intersex," Touma repeats to himself, as if telling himself to memorize the word. "Well, I'm still glad you told me. Because I still want to…" he trails off, face reddening as he seems to realize something.

"I never—I didn't say it, did I? How much you mean to me. God, this is embarrassing," he groans, and Accelerator lifts his eyebrows.

"I just told you my body is all fucked up, and now you're embarrassed about confessing properly?" Accelerator scoffs, and Touma waves the hand he still has grasped by the wrist vehemently.

"Your body isn't fucked up—at least, not aside from the whole brain trauma thing. Look, you beat me to it, okay? You said the L word and everything. What I mean is, I've liked you since—well, Russia, I think, but I can't be sure, and I'm definitely in love with you too. So there."

"So there," Accelerator mocks, watching Touma cause his wrist to flop about. "Are you five? Aren't you eighteen? You graduated and everything—"

"Augh, shut up, don't remind me I have to move out by the end of the summer," Touma groans, and Accelerator realizes he's smiling in a way that he rarely ever does.

Touma realizes, too, because he stops his dramatics and stares at him, a familiarly stupid smile on his own face.

"Can I tell you something, Accelerator?" He asks with that stupid look on his face. Accelerator can feel his face warming.

"Go on," he says, heartbeat in his own ears. Touma shuffles closer on his knees, bending his head close as if sharing a secret.

"I really, really want to kiss you," he whispers, and Accelerator has to fight not to roll his eyes, face definitely red.

"Why don't you, then?" He demands, more flustered than he cares to admit. Touma's smile widens.

"Can I?"

"I just said so," Accelerator snaps, grabbing onto Touma's shirtfront, and Touma laughs as he's pulled closer toward him. Despite his tone, Accelerator is smiling, and he can feel Touma's grin when their mouths and noses bump together. Touma laughs again, hand moving to Accelerator's jaw, his cheek, sliding into his hair—the angle changes, and Touma's warm mouth feels better than anything he ever could have let himself imagine.

Touma makes a giddy, not-quite laugh against his mouth, and Accelerator smacks his arm in protest despite the fact he's holding back a smile of his own. Touma kisses him again and again, and Accelerator returns each one with equal delighted fervor.

Until something crawls between them, meowing incessantly. Accelerator jerks away from Touma immediately, staring down with wide eyes—he'd forgotten about Sphinx, who sprawls out between them both, wide yellow eyes staring into his.

"I forgot about her," Touma gasps, breathless with amusement and their previous activity both. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Sphinx—" he lets go of Accelerator to bow his head and bury his face in the calico's fur; Sphinx purrs, deep and rumbling in response, eyes slipping shut.

"Oh, I see how it is," Accelerator says. "The cat gets precedence. Okay."

He's joking, of course. Touma's shoulders tremble.

"That's right. Sorry, but she's the real boss in this relationship, Accelerator," he says, laughter in his voice, and Accelerator wants to stay like this for as long as he possibly can. Comfortable, happy, his feelings somehow requited.

Is he allowed to have this? It's not something he deserves, but if Touma feels the same as him, who is he to deny himself this and hurt them both?

"Ah, right," Touma says suddenly, lifting his head from Sphinx's fur. "Index won't be gone too long since we need to go shopping before dinner. Did you want to come?"

"Let me—" Accelerator pulls his phone out from his pocket, checking his messages and calendar app. He reaches idly with his other hand for the coffee left forgotten on the table; it's lukewarm by now, but somehow he doesn't mind it.

"I can't stay for dinner. I skipped out on my last appointment with Heaven Canceller," he admits, and Touma laughs at him.

"Again? He's going to break his oath and kill you himself if you keep that up. If Last Order doesn't," he adds, and he's right.

"That's the only reason why I'm going this time, ugh. I can help with shopping, though," Accelerator says, and Touma's grin is blinding.

"Yeah? That's good. Index likes having you around, too, even when Last Order isn't with you," he says, and Accelerator rolls his eyes.

"She likes my wallet, you mean," he says as he swipes open his messaging app to check if Last Order wants anything. Touma's shoulders and voice both shake with laughter.

"That's definitely part of it. Oh, is it fine to tell her?"

It takes a moment for Accelerator to realize what he means.

"That we're—" he cuts himself off, too embarrassed to say it. "Yeah. Tell whoever you want," he says instead, and Touma gives him an amused look.

"That we're what, Accelerator?" He cajoles, shuffling closer; Sphinx had already trotted away, disappointed at the lack of attention.

" You know," Accelerator says, voice as flat as his expression as he leans back. Touma looks like he's trying not to grin again.

"Do I? I'm not sure, since you haven't said it. You should tell me," he says, and Accelerator ducks under the arm that would have landed over his shoulders. Touma tips over, catching his hand on the wooden flooring next to Accelerator instead.

"Tell you what? You should say it instead it," he tries, and Touma looks up at him, lips twitching.

"You can say stuff like, Oh Touma, I've loved you for so long I can't bare to admit it, but you can't say that we're—"

"I will actually fucking kill you," Accelerator says, mortified by the inaccurate pitch of Touma's voice, and Touma laughs, moving his other arm to catch Accelerator at the waist. He lets it happen, this time.

"You said that when we first met, too, but I'm still very much alive—and now we're—" he cuts himself off, looking at Accelerator expectantly.

He gives a deliberately exaggerated sigh.

"We're dating," Accelerator manages to get out, even though the word feels both surreal and far too mundane. "But not for long, because like I said five seconds ago, I'm going to kill you."

"You can't kill me or Index will be an orphan," Touma refutes, a stupidly giddy smile stretching across his face as his arm tightens around Accelerator's midsection. "Also, you love me, remember—"

At this point, Accelerator would usually jokingly reach up to his choker to stop the banter. Instead, he leans down and shuts Touma up with his mouth instead.

It's far more effective.