As Akio paused on the stair landing, Dorian stopped where he stood on the stair behind him, looking up to meet the other's gaze curiously. His words were surprising, especially to add the had didn't find him a fool. Dorian hadn't said as such, but... He had been thinking this all the while. Warming while speaking to him, saying he'd defend him, nursing his insignificant wound, allowing their casual touches, all of it he had had to deem as foolish to allow to happen in spite of his nature. He was drowning the voice of reason inside of his head, dousing it by allowing himself to think of it all as foolish, as the rest of him had been thriving in the bliss of knowing it was not. There was nothing foolish about the warmth that mingled in his stomach whenever he was this near to Akio. It was, however, astonishingly and distinctly human.

"Thank you." He managed breathily, clearly taken aback, pausing where he stood even as the other moved on down the hall. After hearing his next words, Dorian's eyebrows came to furrow slightly, gaze trailing after his footsteps on the floor as he casually followed along behind in Akio's direction. His thoughts, spurred by the other's words, all weighed down on him. Hard. Yes, he was holding back. He was hiding himself, shielding himself from this inner conflict by trying to be oblivious of it. Yes, he found himself foolish. He had long ago taught himself that he was never to know love again, never to be understood by a human, and now he was allowing himself to think it possible. Yes, the book was perhaps the most romantic story he'd ever heard. He had at once dreamed that Marcel would be able to accept him in this new form, that their love could rekindle.

Dorian stood just outside the door as Akio swung the final hit. Yes, he had at once been in love. The look in Akio's eyes at the time told him that he already knew it, too. Frozen there, storm clouds sweeping the rubble of his thoughts about recklessly, Dorian felt his mouth dry as the words shriveled on his tongue. Then, Akio was moving away from him again. He went to stand by the window, the light cast down upon him as lovely as it had been minutes earlier, but this time also striking his silhouette in a manner that Dorian couldn't help but... admire. Slowly, he came to, though his composure was now in horrid shambles. One of his hands rose to clutch at the fabric of his shirt below his collar, over his heart, but also where he had been feeling an ache he wasn't now accustomed to. His gaze drifted about the room, up along the shelves, everywhere but Akio.

Nothing he could say could make this right, he knew. Dorian was his captor, had killed his fellow samurai, had made a threat on the life of a comrade of his in order to hold him here, was to take him to court for a beating, to introduce him to his superiors to do what they will with... His insides raged as he moved to sit at the piano stool, feeling quite weak. Maybe ill. The hand he had clutched at his chest moved to roughly unbutton the first few of his shirt carelessly, nearly ripping them from the fabric as his palm sought to put its pressure directly on the mark itself. It glowed dimly from where he sat, telling of the struggle of emotions within him. It was a weakness, Dorian knew, a weakness he hadn't had in over a hundred years, to have this mark reacting to such frail emotions.

As he closed his eyes, the pair of blue ones popped back into his head as the thought of Marcel ate away at him. However, after replaying moments of earlier, the pair of eyes seared into his mind became that of another. Opening his eyes after a few moments, he stood abruptly to approach Akio. He walked at a casual pace, his motions unplanned as he took to standing beside the other. Slowly, after a moment of silence, he allowed his gaze to rest on him as one of his hands gently came to rest on his nearest shoulder. "You are not wrong, of any of it." He spoke with weight, golden gaze for once losing their curiosity as the depth in his eyes instead told of his confusion, torn between the warmth of the present and the darkness of his being. "I have been holding quite a bit in." He then added, sighing softly before allowing himself to grin at the other.

Akio was not Marcel. He was not Marcel, he would not replace him, and Dorian would not have wished that in any circumstance. He was for the moment acutely aware that the warmth he felt right now was due solely to Akio, and he thought he deserved at least enough to know that. The hand he had placed on his shoulder moved to gently grip it, a firm yet tender gesture as his golden gaze studied the man before him. "I am not... bored by your presence. I have not felt this warm for quite some time." He admitted in softer tone, voice smooth but lacking spite or any edge.