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Sakura-san’s coffee was always brewed fresh. Niijima-san frequented Leblanc both for business and leisure purposes, and Akechi did the same. He knew Kurusu would show up eventually, but he never planned to stay too long. Most days, he never even saw the young man walk through the door with his suspicious cat. Every once in a while, though, the bell on the door would ring, and Akechi would turn to see that mop of black hair he’d gotten so acquainted with. Only someone as attentive as Akechi himself would be able to see his hand clench ever so slightly around the coffee mug – knuckles turning white.
He didn’t want to admit to himself why he chose Leblanc specifically. It’s just because I need a place to unwind, he’d always claim. The coffee is good, and there aren’t many customers to distract me. I don’t have to be Goro Akechi, Ace Detective. I can just be myself.
Even so, there were some days he’d stay long after he was tired of the coffee’s taste. Days he’d sit in the chair at the counter for so long that it’d be uncomfortable to stand up. He’d talk to Sakura-san about his problems, and what was on his mind. Things he’d never tell anyone. Things he barely liked to tell himself. Something about Sakura-san made him feel at ease, like he finally had someone he could relax around. He’d speak about his parents, about his childhood, and about the loneliness that pervaded his cognition despite his popularity. He liked to pretend when he noticed his name on the street, on television, and in magazines, that it made him feel worthwhile. That maybe, just for a second, he felt like he belonged somewhere. Those feelings, however, were as fleeting as the breeze he felt during them, and sometimes weren’t even authentic in the first place. He’d pour out his thoughts on all of this over cups and cups of coffee. Around Sakura-san, he let his guard down.
But some days, before he could talk himself out, the door would open. He usually wouldn’t flinch at the sight of the one person who could shake him to his core. On those days, however, he could barely keep himself together. He’d become aware of the shakiness of his voice, the tiny slouch in his posture, and the lack of authenticity in his smile. He had to be Goro Akechi, Ace Detective. He couldn’t let anyone see him at his worst, let alone one of his peers – let alone the person who makes him feel the most useless.
“Hello, Kurusu-kun.”
The reply he received was a small smile and a nod in his direction. Kurusu was never a talkative person, but it couldn’t be helped that it rubbed Akechi the wrong way. Was he not good enough to be spoken to? Was he just another stranger? The hours that Akechi spent each day thinking about the person who made him feel more mediocre than even his own father – were they for nothing? Did Kurusu never think once about him, unless Akechi approached the young man himself?
As Akechi smiled softly and warred with himself in his own mind, Kurusu put his back on the counter and sat in the seat next to him. Any other day, Kurusu would either leave soon after, or Akechi would excuse himself without finishing his cup. This blatant attempt at interaction left Akechi a mixture of surprised, elated, and disgusted. Why would he pay attention to me now, of all times? Why never before?
Kurusu looked at him and smiled. His eyes always made Akechi feel like he knew more than he let on. It was an uncomfortable glance to be caught in, akin to having a spotlight on you in the midst of a crowd, or having someone yell your name in a silent room. It made him feel vulnerable.
Akechi decided to break the ice once more. “Long time no see. Have you been well?” Kurusu nodded and rested his head on his arm, leaning against the counter. He asked for two coffees – Akechi assumed one was supposed to be for him. Is this supposed to be some kind of peace offering? Don’t make me laugh. Sakura-san smiled and sighed, pouring two more cups of his own blend.
“It’s on me,” Kurusu said. Akechi couldn’t help but let his eyebrows furrow just a bit. He was interested in him, but never thought they’d actually spend time together like this. “You come to Leblanc a lot, but we never actually talk.”
“Haha, I guess I’ve just been too busy as of late. The Phantom Thieves are running me ragged, you know.” Akechi laughed dryly. It wasn’t a secret to him that Akira Kurusu was the leader of the Phantom Thieves. If anything, that made him drawn to the quiet young man even more. “But, I guess I have time for one more cup.” It was just to get information. He’d never wanted to see Kurusu in the first place. And yet, here he was, fraternizing over coffee with the enemy.
“Could you use a hand with the investigation? I’d always be willing to help.” Akechi had to hold back a scoff. Trying to take the suspicion away from himself. Classic.
“I’d love to accept the offer, but I really couldn’t burden another student with this. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your studies.” Akechi wouldn’t have accepted his help even if he could have. Spending time around Kurusu would only remind him more of what he couldn’t have. It’d only remind him more of the person he wish he could be. “I should really get going.”
Kurusu’s expression didn’t change. He just kept looking into Akechi’s eyes with that same piercing softness. It made Akechi want to scream. He took one last sip of his coffee and rested his hand on the counter.
“Alright. Just promise me one thing, Akechi-kun.”
“And that is?”
“Next time you come to Leblanc, stay a little longer. I don’t want you leaving as soon as I come in.” And with that, Kurusu put his hand on Akechi’s. Neither boy’s expression changed. Akechi just smiled. He’d never felt so inferior in his entire life.
“Of course. It’d be my pleasure.” Akechi waited for Kurusu to take his hand away. He wasn’t going to be the one to pull away. When Kurusu placed his own hand back on his lap, Akechi stood up and left the building without a word. The sun had went down, and he was all alone in the backstreets of Yongenjaya. He looked down at the hand Kurusu had touched. He felt conflicted, irritated, and disappointed in himself. But, more than that, he felt like someone had actually seen him. He felt like someone would miss him if he was gone. With that thought, he made a decision. Maybe I’ll have an extra cup, next time.