Chapter Text
While usually irritated at waking up before his alarm, this particular morning, Goro leapt out of his bed eagerly and tapped its reset switch. He stretched on his way to the bathroom and ran down his mental checklist to get ready for the day.
After freshening up, he went to the kitchen to make the usual eggs and toast for his mom. Though he wished he could make more before she left for work, those items were the only things he could be trusted to cook without supervision.
He’d peeled a couple tangerines and set them on her plate as well by the time she joined the dining table. Already dressed in her work clothes, hair pulled back into a tight bun, she ate carefully to avoid spilling any crumbs or smudging her makeup.
She pecked Goro on the head as she left, brushing some of his hair back with her fingers.
Half an hour later, Goro stood in front of his closet and stared at the leather jacket tucked in the corner. It still smelled like Kurusu.
He tugged it off its hanger and ran out with it before he could change his mind.
Unprepared for the dip in temperature, he ended up shrugging the jacket on. It fit him well, despite Goro being a slightly larger build than Kurusu.
He said nothing in response to Makoto’s suspicious gaze, and instead looked around the lecture hall in search of his target.
Kurusu was already seated in a higher row. Perfect.
Goro kept his eyes on him as he slid into his seat, and oh, what a treat he received.
Mouth agape, Kurusu grew steadily redder with each passing second and dropped his head into his hands. Catching his line of sight, Ann grinned widely and elbowed him as he shrunk into his seat.
Goro’s eyebrows rose. That wasn’t the response he had expected from her.
He didn’t realize what a grave mistake he’d made until the lecture started and his excitement simmered down. Kurusu’s scent surrounded him, reminding Goro of the night prior— when he had flooded every single one of his senses.
Goro brushed his bottom lip with his thumb, then brought the finger up higher onto his top lip. It was nothing compared to the feeling of Kurusu’s lips on his, but it was close enough. He parted them just so and pushed the tip of his thumb inside.
A loud thump caught his attention. He turned to see Kurusu, sitting upright for once, looking directly at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates, hunched over as if he’d just caught himself from falling onto the desk.
Goro blinked and then smiled. He pulled his thumb out and trailed it down from the corner of his mouth to the bottom of his chin, smug at the revelation that he’d broken Kurusu’s focus. His smile curled into a mean grin when Kurusu noticed that several people were looking at him curiously.
Embarrassed, Kurusu readjusted his position, waved off the other students’ concerns, and leaned back in his usual position.
If he’d known how much they affected him, Goro would’ve reciprocated Kurusu’s flirtations much sooner.
An agonizing hour later, Goro waited at the stairs for Kurusu. There was a glint in his eyes that excited him. “What did you think of today’s lecture? Rather interesting, in my opinion,” Goro said.
While he’d been a nervous mess earlier, Kurusu’s usual bravado came through now. He looked Goro up and down unabashedly, and Goro preened under the attention.
“Are you busy tonight?” Kurusu asked.
“Nothing more than the usual amount.”
Kurusu leaned in to whisper into his ear. It was highly unnecessary, but Goro indulged him and tipped his head to the side.
“Come by my apartment tonight. I want my jacket back.” His lips brushed against his ear with each word. Goro shivered.
“I haven’t washed it.”
Kurusu pulled back, looking akin to a cat that got the cream. “You don’t need to.”
Goro resisted the temptation to trace the irritating shape of his smile with his finger. “I’ll come by at seven.”
“Can’t wait.”
Fully anticipating Kurusu to drag him into his room with some half-baked excuse as to why he had been running around in a mask at night, Goro approached his apartment with the leather jacket slung over his arm. He imagined Kurusu would then either attempt to convince him to keep the other night a secret or continue their activities from before the guard had interrupted them. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the latter.
What he hadn’t expected was Kurusu to outright admit that he was part of the rumored Phantom Thieves.
Goro stared at him from the door as Kurusu fell back from his sitting position to lay on his bed, legs hanging loosely over the edge.
“You realize that I can easily sell you out,” he said, closing the door with a click and leaning against it.
Kurusu made a contemplative noise, shifting in place so that he could peer up at him. “Yeah. Are you going to?”
Goro huffed, but chose not to answer. He turned his head to the side to see various knick-knacks on his desk. Upon walking closer to inspect them, he could identify multiple lockpicks neatly lined up next to a toolbox. One would think he wasn’t even trying to hide his extracurricular activities.
Kurusu still hadn’t moved from the bed.
Goro placed the jacket over the chair and locked eyes with him. He was still lounging around comfortably, as if he didn’t perceive Goro to be any sort of threat.
Walking forward with a steadily increasing heartbeat, Goro crossed the room to stop in front of the bed. Belatedly, he noticed how soft the blanket felt as the mattress dipped under his knee.
Kurusu propped himself up onto his elbows, but he didn’t make any move to touch Goro. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said, ever so quiet.
“My thoughts—” Goro said and settled his other knee on the other side of Kurusu’s hips. He placed his hands on the bed as well, effectively caging Kurusu in. “You’re rather daring, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Kurusu said, breath hitching. Good, Goro wasn’t the only affected.
He leaned in until their noses were barely touching. He wondered if Kurusu could hear the thrum of his heartbeat.
“Well,” he started, brain short-circuiting at the sight of Kurusu’s parted lips.
He didn't know who closed the distance between them. One moment they were merely breathing each other’s air, and the next they were feverishly locking lips as if parched for water.
It was inelegant, he didn’t have much practice after all, but Kurusu groaned lowly and pressed forward anyways, sitting up while doing so. The momentum had Goro sliding into his lap and grasping at Kurusu’s shoulders as arms wrapped around his waist.
He’d thought that his hormones had just flared up the previous night, pent-up frustration from having little to no action due to focusing on his studies, but this kiss was as intoxicating as the last one.
Hands massaged his lower back, and he melted in Kurusu’s embrace. He separated from Kurusu’s lips with a wet pop, needing a moment to reorient himself. A hand left his back to sweep his hair to the side, and fingers brushed gently against his racing pulse.
Warm lips land on his collarbone, peppering the skin there with feather-light kisses. Eventually, they trailed up and up, becoming progressively wetter along the way, then teeth scraped against his neck.
Goro jerked back. “Wait—”
“Sorry, sorry—”
Goro breathed out slowly and used his thumb to smooth out the knit in Kurusu’s brow. “I just rather there not be any marks my mother could see,” he said.
“Oh.” And Kurusu looked so relieved it was adorable. Goro couldn’t help himself, he dipped down to kiss him again, coaxing his tongue back into his mouth when it traced the seam of his lips.
Curiosity ate at him, and he let his hands drift into the knots of black hair. They were thick and fluffy within his fingers. Kurusu’s answering moan, combined with the fingers digging into the base of Goro’s lower back, shot heat straight down south.
Overwhelmed, heat pooling low in his belly and spreading throughout his body, Goro tugged at the curls bunched in his hands to pull Kurusu away. He didn’t expect Kurusu to swing him around and onto the bed however, and a strangled yelp escaped his throat.
His back hit the bed and he scrambled up, chest heaving, as Kurusu loomed over him. With lips shining red and glossy as a polished apple and a blush high on his cheeks, he looked as debauched as Goro felt.
“Kurusu,” he whispered, mind completely shutting down every other function than his ability to watch Kurusu crawl toward him in the space between his legs. It was absurd how natural he looked, as if he belonged there.
“Call me Akira,” he said, voice so unbearably husky it sent shivers down Goro’s spine. He settled on top of him, a comfortable weight on his chest, and reached out to cradle Goro’s face in his hands, giving him full exposure to those unfairly full eyelashes as he blinked slowly. “Is that alright, Goro?”
Goro blinked slowly back. “Yes, that’s alright.”
Akira smiled then, so fondly, and leaned down. Goro exhaled stiltingly and closed his eyes.
Only to snap them open at a ringtone jingling. Akira jolted back at the noise, hanging his head low once the initial shock wore off. He lifted it back up sheepishly. “Sorry, I have to check that.”
Goro sat up and rubbed his hand over his face. As the lust-filled haze faded from his mind, he started to feel strangely exposed and, above all, utterly ridiculous. He came here to blackmail his way into the Phantom Thieves, not get into Akira’s pants.
The blatant disregard Akira had in revealing himself had scrambled Goro’s thinking, and he had just looked so attractive and inviting laying on his bed.
He was trying to think of something else he could use as leverage against him when he looked up from his phone and tucked it away. Akira wrapped a hand around Goro’s wrist and tugged it off to look him in the eyes.
“We’re having a meeting soon. Everyone will be here in about twenty minutes,” he said.
“Who?”
“The Phantom Thieves. Stay, and come join us.”
Goro felt his mouth drop open. “Why? What would possess you to believe I would want to participate in your nightly activities?”
Akira, obviously amused, leveled him with a stare. “I know you didn’t come here just for my dashing good looks.” At Goro’s eye roll he added, “Or did you? I’m not complaining if you—”
“No, you’re correct,” Goro interrupted, irritated at being found out so easily. Impressed and irritated.
Mostly irritated.
Maybe half and half.
“Alright,” Akira said, satisfied. Then, shyly, he asked, “Can I kiss you again?”
Goro clearly hadn’t learned from his previous mistake, since he mashed their lips together immediately after Akira finished talking.
Half an hour later, Goro found himself on one end of a couch in the living room, head in his hands, while Makoto attempted to placate him.
“They can be a little disorganized,” she said.
“A little?” Goro grunted out. “How on earth have they managed to operate up to this point?”
Makoto chuckled and readjusted her skirt. “I take offense to that, seeing that I’m part of the team too.”
Goro shook his head in disbelief. “It’s your fault I had to stay up late finishing our last Oceanography assignment.” He didn’t actually blame her, only saying it to get a rise from her, and snickered when she groaned.
“You thought he looked bad the day you two actually went to the beach? The day you were initially planning to go, he looked and walked like a truck had run over him.”
“What happened?”
There was a shout, and he looked over to see Ryuji jump from his seat and hook his arm around Akira’s shoulders, ruffling his hair as Akira tried to wrestle him off. Meanwhile, Ann— she had insisted he call her as such— video chatted with the remainder of their members. Though he had yet to meet them, he recognized one from Akira’s party the other night.
Makoto crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat. “He fell.”
“You’re kidding. Then he was telling the truth after all?”
“From the second floor.”
Goro sucked in a breath. “He certainly has a fair amount of dumb luck for walking away from that without any broken bones.”
“Yes, but he was injured enough that he couldn’t run as quickly as usual. If the rest of our group hadn’t pulled off the security guards that jumped him, we would have been in a world of trouble.” She sighed. “That’s probably why he’s asked you here today.”
“That’s fine by me. I have a request for him as well.”
He was pretty sure Makoto was about to ask what that request was, but Ann approached him with a tape measure.
“Can I take some measurements? Yusuke needs them,” she asked.
“Well… um…” Goro said.
“Yusuke makes our masks,” Makoto explained.
“Oh, then I suppose it’s fine.”
It was not fine. Goro had no idea who this Yusuke was, but surely he didn’t need such precise measurements of every nook and cranny around his head. By the time Ann was measuring the distance between his nostrils, he was contemplating if it was all one big joke that they’d roped Makoto into.
Especially when Ann whispered into her ear and they both started laughing. Whatever, he was nosy and apparently had no dignity, so he subtly leaned toward them in an attempt to eavesdrop.
He very much didn’t jump in his seat when Akira spoke. “Alright, let’s brief Goro on our target.”
“Goro?” Makoto and Ryuji said in unison, though the latter nearly drowned out Makoto’s voice with his. He elbowed Akira with a large grin. “Nice, you must’ve scored big time.”
Heat crawled up Goro’s neck and encased his entire face. He pulled at his collar, ensuring it covered his left shoulder— the spot still tender from Akira’s lips and teeth.
Akira, completely flushed, shoved at Ryuji futilely. “It’s not like that.”
Goro didn’t know what he meant by that, but he felt his head begin to pound from a headache.
It wasn’t as if he had expected a full-blown romance, nor for Akira to desire a committed relationship. Their current relationship was only built on mutual benefits, nothing more. He’d be foolish to think Akira would harbor romantic feelings for him.
“Wait, can I call you Goro too?” Ann said, snapping him out of his thoughts. She rolled up the tape measure and twisted a rubber band around it. “It feels so formal referring to you by last name.”
“Me too! You’re part of the Phantom Thieves now anyways, so—” Ryuji said with a large grin.
“Can we focus, please?” Makoto said, exasperated, a phrase that she’d likely used many times before.
She was right. Mulling over something that hadn’t been serious in the first place wasn’t going to get Goro anywhere. He needed to concentrate on getting in the rest of the thieves’ good graces so they would accept his request in the future.
“Right,” Akira said as Ann, entirely too comfortable in the apartment, jumped back onto her couch. “Makoto, you probably already know that Goro climbs in his free time.”
“I am. You’re suggesting he climb to the staircase for us.”
Akira fiddled with his hair and turned to Goro. “Only if you want to. If you’re not comfortable with it, we can find another way to get inside.”
Goro raised an eyebrow. “I’d like to know the target and the building before I make any decisions.”
“Yeah, of course. It’s Shido Masayoshi. He’s the new chair of the Political Science department.”
Completely involuntarily, Goro barked out a single harsh laugh. He didn’t even mind the way everyone else looked at him.
“What’s so funny?” Ryuji said, leaning forward with a scowl.
Goro waved his hand and coughed into the crook of his elbow to clear his throat. “No, well, it’s just quite a coincidence that we would have the same target.”
“Oh.” Ryuji deflated immediately and scratched his head. “So he screwed you over too?”
“Too?”
For some unspoken reason, Ryuji glanced at Akira then, panic clear in his eyes, and stuttered. In a clear attempt at damage control, Ann sat up and waved her hands. “Ohh, um, well… with his personality, there are bound to be tons of people he’s hurt, you know?”
“Sure…” Goro said to, if anything, no longer witness their poor excuse at lying.
Unaffected, Akira motioned to the dining table. “C’mon, let’s introduce Goro to the rest of the team.” He made a grab for the tablet in Ann’s arms, but she dodged his swipe and patted him on the back. She winked in Goro’s direction as she skipped ahead of him.
Well, he could appreciate their shared desire to prevent Akira from always having his way. He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner. She smiled back, so maybe it had been alright.
“Makoto—” he started, and then frowned. “Are you running a fever?”
“No, not at all,” she said. Her cheeks were tinted pink. “We should hurry. We have some planning to do.”
Goro still pressed a hand to her forehead. She tugged at his wrist, insisting that she was fine. By the time they gathered around the table, her skin returned to a normal color, so he didn’t bother her about it anymore.
The other members greeted him from the tablet.
Haru looked alarmingly similar to the daughter of the recently disgraced Okumura, but Goro couldn’t conclude if it was her from the small screen. Considering the rumors that the Phantom Thieves were the ones to expose Okumura, it wouldn’t make much sense for her to be a part of them.
Yusuke asked Akira to circle the tablet around Goro, and he made vague approving noises as he observed him from every angle. It felt rather silly, but Makoto assured him that everyone had experienced Yusuke’s scrutiny.
After Akira set the tablet back down, he summarized the plan. A jazz festival was going to be held right outside of campus, and, thanks to Makoto’s intel, the university was assuming that a large number of students would be attending it and would concentrate the majority of their police and student workers there. For any security remaining on campus, Makoto could call and report a disturbance a fair distance away from the Social Sciences building.
“Didn’t you try climbing the building before? They’ll be keeping an eye on it.” Goro pointed out.
“It wasn’t the Social Sciences building,” Makoto said. “Akira wanted to practice, so we picked a building on the opposite side of campus.”
Almost content, Goro sat back in his chair. He’d worried that they’d been fumbling along, jumping straight into heists without planning, but it seemed they did cover their bases.
However, he still had one more concern.
As much as a hooligan Akira had first seemed, Goro would have never imagined he’d carry a gun around. He peered up at him. “Where did you obtain your firearm?”
Makoto groaned next to him. “Akira…” she started. Having heard that tone before, Goro knew Akira would best apologize before Makoto flayed him alive with her words alone.
“I’m sorry,” Akira said. Oh, so he had been on the receiving end of her lectures before then. “At least it was Goro?” That was not the best way to alleviate her ire.
“We’ve been over this. It’s a last resort, and by that, I mean a last resort.” She took a breath, a short reprieve before she launched into her lecture. “If the police call your bluff, you risk getting arrested. If they don’t, then you could be gravely injured!”
“Your bluff?” Goro asked, but Akira didn’t hear him from Makoto’s increasingly loud scolding.
“It’s fake,” Ryuji said. “The gun, I mean. We got it from a model gun shop. Owner’s real intimidating, but Akira’s gotten chummy with him and gets discounts.”
“It’s still rather dangerous to carry it around.”
Ryuji slung his arm over the back of his chair and shook his head. “You and Makoto…”
Once Akira promised to be more cautious with the usage of his model gun, the Phantom Thieves went back to briefing Goro on the rest of their infiltration plan and codenames.
“Do we have any ideas for Goro’s codename?” Makoto asked.
“Teddy Bear.”
Goro stood from his seat, placed his hands on the table, and leaned toward Akira, who was watching in amusement. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he said, letting his voice drop into a growl.
Akira looked excited then, and he stood up as well to meet Goro across the table. “Try me.”
Briefly, Goro forgot the fact that they had an audience and was ready to launch at him, whether to slap or kiss his smirk off, but he and Akira were yanked back into their seats by Makoto and Ann respectively.
“Dude…” Ryuji said. “No kink-shaming, but keep it in the bedroom.”
Goro pressed a knuckle against his brow. “I— can we please decide on my codename.”
“Featherman.”
“Be quiet, Akira.”
He moved his hand away from his face when a finger tapped on his shoulder. Ann handed him her phone with an image opened. “Maybe we can think of one based on your mask?”
The others gathered around him to peer down at the intricate illustration. “Whoa, Yusuke went all out this time,” Ryuji said and whistled. “Mine’s still the best one though.”
“Ha! No way.” Futaba’s voice crackled from the tablet’s speakers.
While Ann and Ryuji discussed masks with Futaba, Makoto and Akira hovered over each of Goro’s shoulders. He looked up at Makoto. “How about Karasu?”
“Pass, you’d be the only Japanese-sounding one,” Futaba said.
Before Goro could respond, Ann piped in, “Why not Crow then?” and effectively shut up Ryuji, who had been listing his favorite masks in order. A black cat jumped onto her lap and purred. “See, Morgana agrees.”
“Crow,” Akira said, and it sounded so good coming from him. “I like it. What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Goro said, the words leaving him in a strained exhale. He couldn’t run out to the gym now without worrying everyone else, but he needed to shake off his sudden burst of energy soon.
Thankfully, Ryuji asked him to demonstrate how to throw someone over the shoulder, citing that Makoto was too scary for him to learn from. Goro was more than happy to oblige, especially when Akira volunteered to be his demonstration partner.
The mask was more a helmet than anything, covering the entirety of his head with only a small opening to allow him to breathe. He isn’t sure what it was about his appearance that compelled Yusuke to create such an elaborate design, especially in comparison to Akira’s minimalistic mask, but he liked it.
He tapped the button located on a knob on the side, turning on the night vision.
Able to traverse the area, now highlighted in red, more easily, he trailed after Akira to the Social Sciences building. With Akira’s seemingly natural ability to find blind spots and move silently, they managed to avoid any detection and hid in some bushes near the building.
Akira adjusted his bag and pulled out his cell phone as security guards patrolled the area. “I was hoping they’d focus more of their manpower outside of campus, but we can work with this.”
Goro watched as he typed and sent out a coded message to Makoto, and, shortly after, one of the guards grabbed his walkie-talkie and jogged off to where Ryuji and Yusuke should be loitering.
“The other one is still there,” Goro whispered.
Akira scrolled through his contact list, stopped on Ann’s name, and hit the call button. Goro took off his mask and scooted closer to listen in.
“What’s up?” Ann’s voice came through tinny, but audible.
“There’s still one more guard left. Do you see him?”
Rustling, hushed whispering, then Ann answered in affirmative.
“Take off your masks and walk by him in the direction towards the festival. Noir, can you pretend to trip?”
A pause and then Haru answered. “Yes, I think so.”
“Okay good. On my signal.”
When the guard made the turn to face the sidewalk, Akira gave them the signal. Haru and Ann walked in his line of sight, acting as if they were deep in conversation, before Haru fell to the ground. Ann hovered over her, glancing between her and the guard.
“Can you help us? I think my friend twisted her ankle,” Ann said when the guard drew nearer.
“C’mon,” Akira whispered.
They stopped beneath the outdoor staircase. Though the lowest point was the second floor, there was a brick fence, surrounding an electrical box, which could be used to leap off of and reach the railings.
Goro took off his coat, folded it neatly, and handed it to Akira. He patted himself down and took out his cell phone and handed it over as well.
Akira’s eyes glittered in the dark. “Last chance to bail. We won’t hold it against you.”
“I won’t receive an opportunity like this again. At this point, you’d have to drag me off if you wanted me to leave.” Before he lost his nerve, Goro slipped into his space and mustered all the confidence he had to keep his voice from wavering. “However, a good luck kiss would help.”
With their close proximity, Akira only had to tip his head a miniscule amount to plant a deep kiss onto Goro’s lips.
Kissing Akira felt akin to igniting a fire, and it loosened Goro’s limbs in spite of the brisk air. He breathed in, lingering a little longer in the soft warmth.
He reluctantly pulled away and put his mask back on. Far too conscious of Akira’s gaze, Goro gave himself a minute to relax after he climbed the brick fence.
Once his heartbeat returned to its usual rhythm, he dusted his hands with chalk and stood. The distance he’d have to jump wasn’t too far, but, in the event his weight broke the railing, he needed to prepare himself for the worst. Taking one more long breath in and steadying his feet, he leapt at the staircase.
His hands stung as they collided with the cold metal bars. He swung his legs for momentum as he pulled himself upward, immensely relieved that the railing stayed rooted.
After securing his feet onto the platform, he stretched his arm down at Akira. “Give me the bag, quickly. We made quite the ruckus. If there are any nearby officers, they’ll likely investigate this area soon.”
On his tiptoes, Akira just barely managed to hand the bag over. It was heavier than Goro expected. How Akira had been able to move so quickly and quietly with it was beyond him. Whatever was in it was strangely warm.
“Be careful with it,” Akira said, “it’s fragile. Don’t leave it behind anywhere either. I put your phone in the side pocket.”
“Okay, can I know what’s in here?”
“It’ll help you crack through locked doors. Call me when you get to one.” He balled up Goro’s coat and threw it up to him. Goro wrinkled his nose as he caught it. It wasn’t one of his expensive ones, but he still liked it. He put it on and shooed Akira off.
Slinking into the shadows with a wave, Akira disappeared from his view.
The door to the second floor was barred off, so Goro sidled past it, thanking the stars that the opening was wide enough for the bag to slip through as well. He walked up the stairs, taking each step with great care to avoid as much noise as possible, and stuck to the wall when the lone guard returned to make his rounds. He went all the way up to the fifth floor— all past doors blocked.
Disgruntled, he called Akira. “Hello,” he said, then without waiting for a greeting back, “every door is inaccessible. Please tell me you gave me something that can cut through metal.”
Akira’s laugh through the earpiece sounded much closer than Goro was prepared for. “Where would we get something like that?”
“Your team includes a tech nerd and an eccentric artist. You can’t be saying they’ve never attempted to make a lightsaber before.”
Another laugh. He could hear each intake of breath. “I didn’t know you were a star wars fan,” Akira said.
“That’s not important.” He tried squeezing his torso through the metal bars surrounding the staircase. Starting from the third floor, the rails had been reinforced with another set of bars high enough to prevent falls. He could just barely get through sideways. “Is there a door on the roof?”
“I think so. Can you reach it?”
“I should be able to climb up from here.”
“Climb? Wait, Goro, that’s way too risky.”
He flexed his fingers. “It certainly is. I’ll call you afterward.” Predicting the protests that would follow, he put his phone on silent, slipped it back into the bag’s side pocket, and zipped it closed.
He withdrew back onto the platform and placed the bag down gently, handles up, and patted his hands with chalk. Eyes facing forward, he swung his left leg over the waist-high railing and steadily slid his upper body through with his back to the wall. Once his entire chest hung freely out, he twisted and secured his left foot, wedging it between two bars, and grabbed the sturdiest bar he could see with his left hand. It stayed in place during his experimental pulls, so he slipped his other leg through.
Curling his body forward, he grabbed the bag and brought it out with him as well.
His heart was beating in his ears, and he had to remind himself to keep his eyes forward and up. He holstered the bag over his shoulder and breathed out slowly with his mouth. A few more calming breaths helped chase away the oncoming vertigo.
The railing made it an easy climb, and he was peeking over the rooftop sooner than expected. He probably could've scrambled up it in an instant if his stupid mind didn’t keep focusing on the fact that he was five stories high without any safety gear.
He breathed slowly again, tightened his grip on the bars, and pushed himself up. Holding for dear life with one hand, he let go of the other to slide the bag off his shoulder and into the crook of his elbow. Once he placed it onto the roof, far from the edge, he placed his arm on the metal landing serving as the staircase’s roof.
With his chest laying flat on the landing, he shimmied forward until his abdomen was also secure. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he released his grip on the bar and brought his other arm up.
He was sweating bullets by the time he swung his legs up and over, and upon crawling onto the building’s concrete rooftop, he had to take a minute to lie down and process what he just did. His fingers trembled against his mask, tapping rapidly against and possibly scratching the material, as they worked to unlatch it off his head.
The cool breeze dried the sheen of sweat off of him quickly enough, and it took only a few more minutes for his heartbeat to return to normal. He straightened out his clothes as he approached the lone door on the roof.
There were multiple missed calls from Akira on his phone, and an incoming call came in before he could tap any of the apps on the screen. He answered.
“Hello, I’m—”
“What were you thinking?” Akira was whispering, but his voice still exploded in Goro’s ear. “If you fell, you would’ve died!”
“Yes, well, it worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
Akira’s frustrated huff came out as a loud crackle of static. Then, low and without humor, “Follow my orders or we end this here.”
Goro’s brain needed a second to rewire after imagining that phrase being used in other situations. He cleared his throat and said as annoyingly as possible, “How would you suggest I leave then?”
“I'll tell Oracle to shut down the power.”
“I thought you didn't want to resort to that method.”
Another staticky huff followed. “Risk getting caught or risk you dying, wonder what option I should take?” Before Goro could object, Akira continued on, “It’ll give me a peace of mind, alright? I already broke my promise to your mom, I should at least make sure you get home in one piece.”
Akira’s insistent concern in falling in good graces with his mother confused him soundly, but it didn’t stop the heat from crawling up Goro’s neck. “Fine,” he gritted out, “now can I finally know what’s in the bag you gave me?”
“Yeah. Set it down and unzip it slowly. Honestly, I’m impressed he kept still while you were climbing.”
Goro stopped mid-zip. “Excuse me?” He jolted back when a black shape emerged from the opening, bright blue eyes blinking at him.
“You handed me a cat?” he nearly yelled into the phone.
“I know it seems crazy—”
“It ‘seems’?”
“Just trust me. He can pick locks. Hold him up so he can reach the doorknob.”
Goro looked down again at the cat, recognizing it as the one that had stuck to Ann like glue during their meeting. The cat stared back.
At this point he had nothing to lose, so, feeling immensely ridiculous, he grabbed the bag with the cat still in it, which meowed and disappeared back in while he did so, and held it level with the doorknob. There was rustling inside and then the cat popped back out with two metal lockpicks in its mouth.
Goro might actually be going crazy.
The cat inserted the first lockpick in and looked up at him expectantly.
“Akira, your cat is staring at me.”
He meowed indignantly, as if he could actually understand what he was saying.
“His name is Morgana. Codename’s Mona. Did he put in the tension tool?” Akira said.
“What is that?”
“It looks like a metal stick, but it’s bent at the end.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Alright. Hold that in place while it’s inserted in the keyhole. Keep your hand on the doorknob while you’re holding it.”
Goro did as told and Morgana, with a lockpick between his fangs, fiddled with the keyhole. Captivated by the absurd scene, Goro watched as clicking noises filled the air. He briefly wondered if he had actually fallen from climbing the staircase and if he was currently hallucinating as he took his final breaths.
A heavy click resounded from the doorknob, and Morgana meowed in a way Goro could describe as triumph. He ducked back into the bag, face popping out without the lockpick in his mouth and peering up at Goro again.
Goro removed the tension tool and dropped it in the bag, taking care to avoid Morgana’s head as he did so. Then he placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted, fully expecting to meet resistance.
But the doorknob turned completely and the door creaked open.
He stood there, unable to believe what had just happened, only snapping out of his daze when Morgana meowed at him again.
While not enthralled by how smug he looked for a cat, Goro patted him on the head. “Well… thank you.”
Morgana purred and then gnawed on one of Goro’s fingers, albeit without any real force.
For convenience’s sake, Goro plugged in his headphones so he could walk around while still on call and using the flashlight. Each lock he encountered was simple work for Morgana, and he was able to find Shido’s office relatively quickly.
He sneered at the books on the bookshelves. All for appearance.
He slipped on leather gloves, turned on Shido’s computer, and stuck the USB drive with Futaba’s program into a port.
With nothing to do, Morgana burrowed back into the bag, so Goro set him on a nearby chair.
He was rifling through Shido’s physical files when Akira’s voice crackled in his ear again.
“So, will you tell me what your grudge against Shido is?”
Fifteen folders and he hadn’t found anything worthwhile. Goro was considering taking them anyways and burning them just to be petty. “It’s personal,” he muttered. “I’m not trying to take him down for some noble reason. I’ll be leaving the Phantom Thieves after this job.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret.”
Goro scanned the documents in the next folder and hummed in amusement. “How thrilling.”
“Shut up,” but even synthesized by cell phone towers, Akira’s tone was warm. “All of the targets were personal to us.”
“Is that so? And who among your teammates picked Shido?”
“Me.”
Futaba’s program finished with a quiet beep. Goro removed the USB and pocketed it. He picked another folder to skim through as Futaba took control of the computer, but lost interest quickly. Might as well rest his eyes anyway.
“Anything promising?” he asked eventually.
“Not yet.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Care to enlighten me on what your relationship with Shido is?”
Akira laughed. “It’s not that dramatic. I was just some kid in his way.”
“Some kid has been giving the Tokyo police a significant headache. Tell me what happened.”
“So demanding.”
“You haven’t experienced how demanding I can be.” Goro said, immediately regretting the words the second they left his mouth.
There was a pause and then Akira, sounding entirely too interested, said, “I'll make sure to take my time next time we’re alone.”
It was nothing but simple flirtation. Goro remembered how indignant Akira had seemed earlier with Ryuji.
“Anyways,” he said, trying indifference, “I believe, as teammates, we should understand each other’s motivations.”
Akira seemed hesitant the entire explanation. He spoke simply and recalled everything in a straight-forward manner, no embellishment at all. He actually sounded ashamed for stepping in when he did, when he’d essentially saved a woman from sexual assualt. Goro almost wished Akira was more of the terrible delinquent he presented himself as, so he could stop becoming so enamored with him.
“Seems like the sort of thing a scumbag like Shido would do,” he growled after Akira finished speaking. “That woman was lucky you were there.”
Akira didn’t answer, so Goro checked his phone to see if he had accidentally hung up, but their call duration still ticked on.
“You think so?” Akira said.
He huffted, affronted. “Obviously. Why would I think otherwise?”
“A lot of people told me I should’ve minded my own business. I guess… for a while I believed them— that I was trying too hard to be more than some kid from the countryside.”
That statement was so unbelievably false that Goro wanted to laugh. “Well, they were wrong. You’re quite incredible, honestly.”
Silence, and then Akira muttered, “Thanks. That means a lot.”
Goro made a non-committal grunting sound, embarrassment suddenly washing over him. They didn’t exchange many words after that, Akira likely trying to avoid detection from his position outside. He was about to consider the entire thing a lost cause when Akira spoke again.
“Oracle’s found something big. If you’ve got anything, bring it too.”
“Okay.” Goro picked up the Morgana bag and wiped down the cushion it had been resting on.
“Do you know where the indoor stairs are?”
“Yes, I do.”
“When the power goes out, run as fast as you can. Let Mona out. He knows the way back.”
“Understood.” Goro set the bag on the floor and waited until Morgana crawled out before he swung it over his shoulder again.
“Alright. Get ready. In five,” Akira said and hung up.
Goro placed his hand on the door for the stairs, slamming it open and rushing down the steps once the security lock disabled, his flashlight the only source of light. His footsteps rang loudly as he descended. Morgana dashed ahead of him, tail swishing mockingly as he left Goro’s sight.
He reached the ground floor in record time and opened the door for Morgana, who scampered to the sliding doors at the front of the building and waited.
Hoping his leather gloves stayed intact, Goro dug his fingers in between the sliding doors and pried them apart.
Morgana’s black coat allowed him to blend in the darkness instantly, and he'd already disappeared by the time Goro opened the doors enough to step through himself. Goro barely had the time to gather his bearings when he heard thudding footsteps in the distance.
“Don’t move!”
He jumped at the holler, but the footsteps were moving away from him. His eyes darted around until he found Akira, standing under a streetlight and completely visible.
He gritted his teeth and waved his phone with the flashlight still on, tucking it away once Akira noticed him. Even at a distance, he could see the flash of teeth as he grinned. Akira twirled dramatically and took off, prompting the officer to chase him with renewed vigor.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Goro ran in the opposite direction. He stayed alert for any other cops prowling around and ducked into an area with one of the Phantom Thieves’ hidden backpacks. Fortunately, there was enough space inside to fit his helmet without creating a conspicuous bump. After zipping the backpack’s main pocket up, he searched the front pocket and found a comb to fix his hair with.
Though he felt ready to bolt, he emerged slowly and walked into the brightly lit sidewalks as if he had no care in the world.
A hand fell onto his shoulder. He commended himself for not outwardly reacting to it, but he did do a double-take once he turned to see Akira.
He’d completely transformed with a pair of glasses, a long wig, and a layer of glossy red lipstick. “Lend me your coat,” he said.
“It’s cold. Where did your jacket go?” Goro said.
“Had to leave it behind at one of our safe spots. Please? It’ll be just until we get to the festival.”
“Fine.” Goro slipped it off, shivering instantly, and handed it to Akira. He was rubbing his hands up and down his arms when Akira insistently pushed his own hand into Goro’s ribs. It tickled, and his arms flew up involuntarily, allowing Akira to loop an arm around his.
“What are you doing?” Goro said.
“I’m your girlfriend for whom you’ve graciously lent your coat to.” Akira pressed closer into him, latching onto his side and warming him up. “Act the part for now, alright? There’s a cop right there. Lean toward me.”
Goro did one better and slipped his arm out of Akira’s grasp to wrap around his shoulders, resting his hand on the outer one to pull him in. “If you act flirtatious, he’ll look away,” he whispered.
“Look at you.” And that deep crimson looked far better on him than it had any right to. He felt each puff of breath on his own lips as Akira spoke. “Catching on so quickly.”
Akira giggled, a high melodious sound unlike his usual voice, and nestled into his side, hand warm on his chest, as they walked past the officer. In the corner of his eye, Goro could see the officer glance away— uncomfortable with their public display of affection.
They stayed pressed together until they were well immersed in the crowded streets outside the university. The loud festivities were a stark contrast to the near empty campus.
Eventually Akira did return the coat, though it was too hot within the masses to put it back on. Goro folded it over his arm and raised an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you going to take off the wig?”
“And freak people out by carrying a mop of hair in my hands?” Akira snorted. Then he leaned in close again and batted his eyelashes. “Besides, don’t I look good with long hair?”
Yes.
“No,” Goro said, pushing his face away. He suppressed a shudder when lips traced the lines of his palm. And he’d been careful to avoid touching his mouth too.
Goro had no clue whether Akira didn’t realize or simply didn’t care that his lipstick had smeared, but the sharp, clean streak past the corner of his mouth was tempting him into more than he should get involved in.
“C’mon,” Akira said and flipped locks of hair behind his shoulder, “let’s go meet up with everyone.” He took hold of Goro’s wrist to lead him through the streets.
People’s chatter filled the air, lights were strung up between booths and signs, smells of various street foods drifted along, and jazz music traveled through the space between them. Goro wished his mom could have been able to take the day off to join. He looked up wistfully at the night sky as he followed Akira, the strung lights imitating twinkling stars.
They soon met with the rest of the Phantom Thieves, all looking like ordinary college students rather than a rag tag group of junior vigilantes.
He jumped at the eruption of voices when they approached. A whirlwind of twin blonde pigtails flew in his vision as he was pulled into a full-bodied hug. When Ann released him, a rough hand clapped him on the shoulder in what he assumed was meant to be a friendly gesture.
Makoto placed her hands on Ann’s shoulders to pull her back. “Let’s give him some space to breathe,” she said, smiling.
Goro coughed, then straightened up. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to see what you found from the data.”
“H-hold on.” It was the first time he’d met Futaba in person, and he hadn’t realized how small she was in comparison to everyone else— noticing her just now as she confidently stepped forward from behind Akira, though she still held onto his arm. “I know Makoto and Akira trust you, but I’m not giving away info without knowing why you’re targeting Shido too. You could be a spy.”
The rest of the group watched the exchange. Makoto stood next to him as they scrutinized him curiously. “That isn’t something he needs to share,” she said softly, looking at Akira while doing so.
Akira nodded. “Right, Futaba—”
“No, that’s quite alright,” Goro interrupted, “you’ve told me your story. It’s only fair I do the same.”
He clasped his hands together and fiddled with his fingers, only stopping when Makoto placed a hand on them, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. Despite agreeing to share, a lump formed in his throat.
“Goro…” Akira said.
Goro looked at him directly in his clear silver-grey eyes. He was always so honest, destroying the confident front he constantly tried to portray. It made Goro want to spill every detail of his life to him. It made him stumble in his usual attempts in keeping others at a distance.
“He’s my father,” Goro blurted out.
He was met with silence, but he could see a few of them were shocked. He only cared about Akira, however, the one most affected by Shido, who remained impassive at the confession.
“That man left my mother and me to rot years ago. Every day she works to the point of exhaustion, and I know I can’t make him give us the money he owes, but— I didn’t want him anywhere near her.” He flapped his arms in a half-hearted gesture, trying to release the tension in his body. “I assure you my relation to him isn’t something that would influence me to side with him.”
Unexpectedly, it was Haru who approached him first. “We have our share of difficult families. I asked the Phantom Thieves for help regarding my father as well.”
“I suspected the exposure of the Okumura scandal was a result of the Phantom Thieves’ actions, but I hadn’t expected his daughter to be the one to have requested him as a target,” Goro said, tapping his chin in thought.
She ducked her head with a tightness to her brow. Realizing he sounded calloused, he added, “I appreciate your support, and I admire your own decision to have your father address his misdoings.”
Her expression clearly indicated that she knew he’d fumbled in his attempt to make nice, but her responding smile appeared genuine so he smiled back. Makoto squeezed his hand, grounding him.
Ryuji yelled toward the sky and pumped his fist. “You guys, let’s get some food already! I’m hungry after running away from—” he stopped and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, I mean, after having to run for track all day. Right?” He elbowed Yusuke, who looked as if he needed at least three more servings of food than he likely ate.
“A phenomenal idea. The low price combined with the filling content of street food is a match made in heaven,” Yusuke answered in an entirely serious tone.
“Yeah, exactly, what you said. Let’s go then!” Ryuji hooked his arm around Akira's shoulders, causing the wig to sway side to side. Goro watched it, transfixed, remembering to follow and walk with the group when Makoto nudged him with her elbow.
They were perusing the numerous food stalls when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see multiple messages from an untraceable sender. The message thread contained screenshots of evidence against Shido. He chanced a look at Futaba, who turned away once their eyes met.
Goro: Thank you, sincerely.
Alibaba: our leader would have been sad otherwise, lover boy
That put Goro into a coughing fit. He had to wave off everyone’s concerns, while Futaba snickered without sympathy.
He had no reason to meet with Akira anymore. Their class assignment had been finished for weeks now, and once the Phantom Thieves revealed the unsavory evidence against Shido, he and Akira would have no use for each other. He needed to correct her, lest she maintain the wrong impression of them and spread it to the rest of the team.
Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He’d enjoyed spending time with him.
They located an unoccupied bench away from the main square after buying their food. With the adrenaline from their infiltration winding down, their conversation steered into mundane topics such as upcoming exams and deadlines. Goro tapped his foot to the beat of the music, humming when a song he recognized played.
After the song ended, another, more popular, song started. Ann squealed as she jumped from her seat next to Goro, and she took Makoto and Haru by hand into the dancing crowd.
Behind him, Futaba talked animatedly with Yusuke while Ryuji gave his occasional input. The seat next to him didn’t stay empty long; Akira slid next to him and threw an arm casually behind him. It brushed against his back.
Every conversation starter Goro could think of sounded forced, so he didn’t say anything at all. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable though.
A low buzzing filled his ears as he watched the lively dancing in the distance. He felt relaxed, content.
Eventually, Akira stood up, stretched, and held out an open hand toward him. “Come dance with me?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to.”
Akira shrugged. “I don’t either. It’s a slow song though, so it doesn’t matter as long as we move in a circle. Won’t you indulge your blushing girlfriend?” He flicked his hair back and pouted.
Goro dug his fingers into Akira’s palm when he stood up. “What kind of person would I be to deny a beautiful lady a dance?” he said, smiling murderously.
“My dashing prince.”
Goro knew his face must have been as red as a tomato when Ryuji and Futaba wolf-whistled at them as they left for the square. He stiffened at the hand on his lower back, which felt like it was burning into his skin. He insisted that Akira place his hands over his shoulders instead, because he might actually combust from overheating if he were to be held by the waist in front of everyone.
It left him to place his own hands onto Akira’s waist, which was a horrible idea, he hadn't thought it through. Memories of their first kiss came rushing back.
The wolf-whistles turned into obnoxious hollering once he gingerly placed his hands on him, and Goro felt ready to melt into the floor.
Akira laughed as they swayed, and it sounded as nice as the music. “Sorry about them.”
“It’s fine,” Goro said, staring past his shoulder.
True to his word, swaying side to side in a small circle made them look as natural as the other people dancing in the crowd. When a couple passed them, Akira scooted in closer, sliding his arms further up Goro’s shoulders, and stayed in his new position.
His lipstick had long come off, but his lips still looked exceedingly inviting. There was a barely noticeable faded pink smudge above his top lip, so Goro used a thumb to rub it off.
It took him a second to realize the intimacy of the gesture. He yanked his hand off, but Akira grabbed it and interlaced their fingers. He felt another hand on the back of his neck and his breath hitched as Akira leaned in.
In a panic, he let go of Akira’s waist to catch his mouth. Akira blinked several times, unsticking his lips from Goro’s palm, and took a step back.
His silence was unnerving. The low buzzing in Goro’s ears became louder. He shook from the discomfort.
“We’re not—” he started, then swallowed. “Why are you still doing this?”
There was a flash of confusion in Akira’s eyes. “I like kissing you. Do you… not like it?”
“Is that what all this is?” He should’ve known it wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. What a joke, to have been hoping for something in the first place. “You’ve gotten what you want from Shido. There’s no need to keep up your charade with me.”
“Charade?” Akira looked as if he was about to grab Goro, lifting his outstretched hand, but stopped abruptly. His hand hovered next to his arm, still radiating heat without even touching. “We’re friends, Goro.”
“You kiss all of your friends then?” The image of Ann hanging onto Akira’s arm at the party drifted into his mind again, then the way Futaba hung onto his arm earlier that night, all wrapped around his finger. Goro wasn’t going to be another fling of his.
“Goro, listen—” Akira said, finally placing his hand on Goro’s arm.
Goro wrenched it out of his grip. He wanted to go home.
“Thank you for allowing me to join your group. Please let me know if you need anything else from me, otherwise I’ll be keeping my eye on any news.”
The buzzing in his head reached an all new high, muffling out Akira’s cry of his name. Lights streaked in his vision, the colors blurring into each other as he ran. By the time he’d composed himself and could think beyond the singular desire to flee, he was in front of his apartment door.
The windows were dark, which meant his mom was still at work. He gulped, pulled out his key, and unlocked the door.
He needed to shower, get rid of the grime and sweat built up from climbing and running, but instead he fell into his bed and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
They discussed how and when to release the evidence via the group chat. Then, it was a simple matter of waiting.
Akira hadn’t contacted him directly since the festival, and Goro felt a mix of disappointment and relief.
The scandal surrounding Shido ended up significant enough to be broadcast on the local news channel. Goro held his mom’s hand as she watched with a set jaw. Later, he found her sitting on her bed in the dark, staring at nothing, and only then, when he sat down next to her and put an arm around her, did she cry.
He rubbed circles on her back long after her tears subsided, letting her rest against his side.
“Mom, you should sleep.”
She nodded and didn’t move, too exhausted from the day. Goro gathered her in his arms and tucked her into bed.
He sat on the floor and held her hand as she drifted off. Once her breathing slowed, he let go and left the room.
After showering, his hair dried and teeth brushed, he looked over his calendar to check for any upcoming events. He turned on his phone and opened the messages app.
Goro: Thank you. I will need some time with my mother, but know that I greatly appreciate all that you’ve done.
Supportive messages flooded the screen. Some told him there was no need to act so serious, or, in Ryuji’s words, “to take the stick out of his ass,” some told him to contact them whenever he needed anything, and some told him that he’d always be considered a part of the Phantom Thieves.
The only one to not respond was Akira. It wasn’t that he was waiting for his particular response, nor did he need any response from him. He tossed his phone onto his bed.
It pinged.
He dove for it.
Akira: Take your time
He didn’t know what he expected. With a long sigh, he dropped his phone back onto his bed and got up to sit at his desk, intending to squeeze in a little bit of review before going to sleep.
His phone pinged again.
He refused to check it.
After flipping mindlessly through his notes, he approached his bed to see the blank screen of his phone taunting him. He eyed it suspiciously.
It lit up as it pinged once more, and he was close enough to see Akira’s name in bold. He snatched the phone up.
Akira: Could we talk?
Whenever you’re free
His pulse raced. Whether it was from dread or excitement, he couldn’t tell. A petty part of him considered maintaining the radio silence they’d kept since the festival, but the reasonable part, and the part that realized just how much he missed Akira’s presence, told him to stop being stubborn and respond.
Goro: I’ll let you know when I’m next available.
The following morning, Goro set the usual toast and eggs with peeled fruit for his mom. However, she appeared in the kitchen in her pajamas, unhurried and with her hair down.
“Wait a bit, sweetie. I’ll grill some salmon and make miso soup,” she said, putting on her apron.
“Oh, sure.” He glanced at the time. “It’s 7 o’clock though.”
His mom hummed as she poured water into a pot. “I called in sick today.” She placed her index finger to her lips. “Keep it secret, okay?”
Goro laughed at that. “Yes, I won’t tell anyone.” He checked his schedule, saw that he only had one class for the day, and texted Makoto that he wouldn’t be attending.
“Can we go out today?” he asked. “There’s a restaurant I’ve been wanting to go to, and it’s near a shopping center.”
“That sounds wonderful, but don’t you have class?”
“Just one and it was canceled.”
She tutted with a pinched frown, but her crinkled eyes gave her away. “Then, let’s go around noon,” she said, humoring him anyways.
They ended up buying more things than they expected to, as per usual. Goro carried most of the shopping bags, which were filled with necessities for the house and new clothes. On the way back to the train station, his mom tapped him gently on the shoulder and pointed off to the distance.
Following the direction of her finger, he saw Akira, waiting outside of a boutique, waving lazily. He lifted his arm to wave back, but jerked it back down when he saw Ann pop open the entrance door to coax Akira inside.
Goro turned his head away and started talking a mile a minute with his mom. He looked over again once he calmed down.
Akira wasn’t there anymore and likely had entered the store. That was dumb. Goro hated that he had acted so jumpy.
His mom was quiet, but she undoubtedly saw everything. She didn’t say anything about it on the train, only asking about his classes, and Goro felt anxiety claw at his insides the entire ride home.
It wasn’t until he was washing their newly purchased dishes and utensils that she asked, “Goro, why don’t you invite Akira over for dinner sometime?”
He attributed his honed hand strength as to how he kept the plate from slipping out of his fingers. Rinsing the suds off, he placed it on the drying rack and grabbed a few spoons to keep his hands busy. “He…” he croaked and cleared his throat, “tends to be busy.”
His shoulders hiked up with each passing second in silence.
“Too busy for a single meal?” she said.
It was a miracle he didn’t break out into a sweat. He turned slowly to meet the placid smile he’d come to master with years of imitation.
“I’ll ask him.”
“Thank you, sweetie. Let me know what he likes too, okay?”
Goro returned to washing the utensils. “Yes, I will.”
Except he didn’t, and a week had already passed since his mom asked.
He was currently face down on a table, head cushioned by his arms as Makoto judged him lovingly, the sound of grinding coffee beans in the background.
“You’re dealing with a crush, Goro. Every time this happens you get so dramatic,” she said.
He groaned, shifted his head to glare at her accusingly with one eye. “I'm insulted.”
Makoto flipped her hair back. “I am too. I thought I had smarter friends.”
Goro buried his head back into his non-sentient, non-judgemental arms. Leave it to Makoto to trivialize his situation into something as juvenile as having a crush.
After a while, her pen scritching ceased. She sighed. “Listen, I know you're going to keep denying it—”
He popped his head back out. “You don’t always know everything—”
“But,” she said sternly, “I can tell that you like Akira, and I know he likes you too. I'm tired of dealing with both of you moping. The other day he suddenly became inconsolable while we were out shopping for clothes.”
Goro’s first instinct was to deny Makoto’s claim, to argue that being attracted to Akira was a silly notion, but he knew if he did, she would match his argument with her own. And he would lose, because she was right.
His choice was to take the defeat now or to drag it out miserably. He could at least win in being the bigger person and conceding from the start.
Anyways, there was one point in which he could come out the victor.
“I’m not dating a player,” he said, “I have some self-respect.”
Makoto frowned. “A player? Akira?”
“Yes, obviously.”
Her frown grew deeper. She set her pen down and closed her notebook. “Where did you get that idea?”
Goro waved his hand in the air. “Where did I—? There’s always someone hanging off of him.”
“Who?”
“Usually Ann.”
Makoto pressed a knuckle to her brow. Goro briefly wondered who picked up the habit from whom. He was pretty sure it was his habit first. She shook her head once, then hunched over, shoulders shaking.
Concerned by her reaction, Goro lifted his head fully. “Makoto, is there something wrong?” The moment he finished the sentence, however, he realized she was trying to hold in her laughter. Her lips pressed together to the point they were white.
He gave her a few seconds. When she still did not surface, he sighed as obnoxiously as he could. “Oh no, don’t mind me. It’s not as if I have things to do.”
Makoto hiccuped and bit her lip as she composed herself. “I’m sorry. Is there anyone else?” she said, nose scrunching as she attempted to suppress her laughter.
Goro watched her wearily. “Futaba… and Ryuji.”
He feared her face would get stuck in its contortion. He remembered he was supposed to do face masks with her once she had time off. Unfortunately, no face mask in the world would repair the damage resulting from elongated scrunching.
“Goro, they—” she breathed out, smiling normally now at least. “Futaba’s dad took care of Akira for a year. They see each other as family at this point. And Ann and Ryuji are affectionate people, haven’t you noticed?”
He placed his hand on his chin. Now that she mentioned it, he did notice they had been the most welcoming out of the Phantom Thieves and had treated him like an old friend in the short time they’d known him.
Makoto continued, “They’re more so with Akira, since they’ve known him since high school.” She adjusted her skirt. “Besides, Ann would tell me if she was interested in him.”
“Really now? Do you have some sort of agreement with her?” Goro snorted.
“You could call it that.”
Her face turned a vivid red before his eyes. She grumbled as she punched her thumbs onto her phone. “You should hear it from Ann, since you refuse to listen to me.”
A short time later, Ann walked into the cafe, dressed as if she came straight from a photoshoot, propping her sunglasses on the top of her head. She slid into the booth next to Makoto after ordering at the cash register, bumping her shoulder against hers.
Then she turned to Goro with a big smile. “I like girls.”
Goro blinked rapidly as Makoto succumbed to a coughing fit. “I see,” he said.
“Yup, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” She rubbed Makoto’s back, but overall she didn’t seem too concerned. Humming, she gave Makoto a single pat on her shoulder when she got up for her drink.
Having recovered, Makoto chided Ann the moment she sat down. “Was that really the only way you could’ve told him?”
Ann shrugged, drinking from her straw steadily. It matched her manicured nails. Makoto sighed, though it was with a fond smile that Ann returned.
Hold on.
“You’re dating,” Goro said. He felt foolish.
Ann winked at him as Makoto's face turned into the same shade of red as earlier. “We’re not as obvious as you and Akira, huh?”
“We’re not—” he huffed, ran his hand over his hair. “There’s nothing between us. He doesn’t think of me that way.”
“Akira doesn’t kiss just anyone, you know,” she said.
Goro covered his face with his hands. “He told you?”
“Well, yeah! Oh, don’t worry, he didn’t give me any weird details or anything. Just that it happened.”
He felt a little better. However, he still wasn’t convinced and voiced as much.
“Geez, you are stubborn. Hang on.” She took out her phone and fiddled with it as she spoke. “This might take a bit. I have to go back a while.” Makoto pointedly looked away and continued writing in her notebook, content with letting Ann take the reins.
After a few minutes, Ann gave her phone to Goro, already opened to her messages app with Akira’s name on the top banner. The black cat emoticon he understood, the glasses he didn’t.
Ann: Where are you? It’s ten min past meetup!!
Akira: I think I’m in love
Ann: What??
Akira: Ann
I’m saying this sincerely
I saw the prettiest person ever
AND he threw me down like a sack of potatoes
Ann: Oh my god
Akira: I know. It was extremely hot
Ann: No!! I’m saying oh my god bc you need to get over here already. We’re all worried!
Akira: Okay, give me a sec
Not kidding about the throwing
I hurt all over
“I… okay,” Goro said.
He gave her back her phone, and she immediately started to fiddle with it again. “I have more messages I can show you, but you should know he wouldn’t stop talking about you the first night. We had to ask him to shut up so many times,” she said.
“No, no, that was informative. Thank you.” He shoved his things into his messenger bag.
“Mm hmm. Now— oh. Where are you going?” She smiled knowingly, propping her chin onto her hand. Makoto also looked up then and mirrored her pose and expression.
“I have to make a call,” Goro said, smoothing his clothes down. “Don’t wait up.”
“Yeah, go get him!” she shouted as he left, Makoto laughing along, and his neck burned in embarrassment.
Outside, the cool breeze slapped some sense into him. He paced back and forth on the pathway next to the cafe, not daring to look at the window. He couldn’t handle Ann and Makoto watching and laughing at him right now.
After spending a significant amount of time running the pros and cons of having the dreaded “what are we” talk, he pulled out his phone and dialed the name that he’d been spending more hours staring at than he would like to admit.
It rang twice before Akira picked up.
“Hey, um,” a cough followed and Goro would usually revel in hearing Akira sound nervous for once, if his own beating heart hadn’t been giving him the jitters, “what’s up? It’s been a while.”
“You wanted to talk?”
“Yeah. Wait, right now?”
“If you’re available. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”
“I’m going to meet up with Ann actually. Afterwards, maybe we could—”
Footsteps stopped near him at the same time Akira cut himself off. Goro looked up to see Akira looking just as surprised as he. Acting quickly, he grabbed his arm and tugged it insistently.
“Wait, I should text Ann,” Akira said.
“She knows. Come, before I lose my nerve.”
Though he still appeared confused, Akira followed Goro until they were in an isolated area, tucked away in the corner, under a canopy of trees.
He dropped his hold on Akira and crossed his arms. He still couldn’t look directly at him, not with his heart racing so much he was sure he would vibrate through the floor. Though Ann and Makoto had insisted that Akira returned his feelings, he still couldn’t shake off the fear that he was the only one who actually wanted something akin to a relationship.
He breathed in and out. Then again. He clasped his hands together and cleared his throat. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”
That prompted a snort out of Akira, then laughter, easing the tension in Goro's shoulders. His eyes snapped onto him, and the smile on his face was so charming, he couldn’t help but laugh as well.
Akira tapped his foot against the ground, drawing Goro's attention to his combat boots. He was pretty sure he was going to go insane at this rate.
“Akira, won’t you please—? Don’t make me talk first.”
“I like you.”
It was such a simple statement, innocent compared to the kisses they’d exchanged, the lingering touches, and yet Goro could feel heat flare and encompass his face. The one reassurance he had was that Akira was also turning red.
Akira covered his mouth and looked away, that calm disposition eroding with each second. Still facing a nearby tree rather than Goro, he roughly scrubbed his face. “I like you a lot, and the other night— I should've been more clear. We’re friends, but that isn’t all I want to be.”
He fiddled with his hair, then stopped abortively and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We could—? I mean— I’m alright with staying the way we are, as friends.”
“I can’t do that,” Goro mumbled.
Akira smiled, took in a shuddery breath. “Alright. Okay. That's okay. I understand. Then—”
“No.” Goro took a step forward, then another, then another until he was in Akira’s space, breathing the same air, close enough to see the faint grey circles under his eyes. “I can’t stay as only friends, Akira,” and he delighted in hearing Akira's breath hitch as he drew out his name, “because you never leave my mind, and the idea of you being with anyone else infuriates me beyond imagination.”
A warm hand cradled his cheek, and Akira’s lips were enticingly close. Goro could see every word, every syllable, in the shape of his lips as they rumbled out of him.
“Goro, you’re— Can I?”
He nodded, not caring what exactly Akira was asking for, just that he was asking for permission. Trembling lips landed on his, soft, warm, and hesitant.
Akira pulled away, but it wasn’t enough, and Goro pitched forward, tugging at the front of his jacket and muffling the small yelp that escaped those lips before covering them with his own.
He had half a mind to go back to the night when he stopped Akira from kissing him and slap the idiocy out of his past self. His train of thought quickly dissipated at the feeling of Akira’s mouth moving against his, trailing off to press against the corner of his lips, his cheek, and his neck, sighing into his skin, and trailing back up to meet his lips again.
Impulsively, he poked out his tongue to slowly lick into his mouth. Akira broke the kiss and buried his head into Goro’s neck. Goro nuzzled against him, tugging experimentally at his hair until Akira placed a hand over his.
“Don’t do that,” Akira mumbled.
Feeling a little mean, Goro snagged locks between his stretched fingers and tugged sharply, thoroughly enjoying the keening noise Akira elicited in response.
His hand fell to Akira’s side as the latter surfaced. He felt a thrill of excitement seeing his eyes, normally grey, look almost black.
“When we’re alone, in private. Not now,” Akira said quietly.
“When we’re alone,” Goro repeated, all the nervous energy from earlier quickly morphing into anticipation. He pressed a kiss to Akira's forehead.
Akira smiled and rubbed his nose against Goro’s. “We should see if Ann is still at the cafe.”
Goro groaned. “She’s going to tease me.”
“That’s half the fun. C’mon.” Akira tugged at his hand, interlacing their fingers and placing them in the front pocket of his jacket. Goro grumbled into his other hand, but he still pressed into Akira’s side. A rush of familiarity, of comfort, overwhelmed him and made him dizzy.
Remembering his mom’s request, he slowed their pace once the cafe was in sight. Akira noticed and squeezed his hand. Goro coughed.
“My mother would like you to come over for dinner sometime… as would I.”
Akira laughed, and he realized how much he'd missed hearing it. “We’re all about moving fast, huh?”
Goro took their hands out of Akira's pocket and turned them so that Akira's hand was facing him. He pressed a kiss onto the smooth skin, addicted to the feeling of pressing his lips to every available surface on him, already fantasizing about the different areas he could explore when they were alone.
“I suppose,” he said and opened the door to the cafe, fully anticipating Ann’s delighted shouting and Makoto shushing her, but beaming at them all the same.