Work Text:
It had been a long day.
This day of the year had always been a hard one, even before his mother’s suicide. Try at he might, he could find no pleasant memories of his birthday—foster families had either tried to appease him (or perhaps their guilt at their neglect) with a slice of cake or ignored it all together, and his own mother’s attempts at celebrating could not erase the shame that filled her eyes whenever she looked at him, or lessen the sting when she quickly turned away.
Furthermore, he had always been careful to keep his birthday a secret from the press, despite the clamoring of his fans. Even he, in his willingness to lap up even the fickle affection of the public, could not be satiated by the fake presents and well-wishes of total strangers.
The Goro Akechi they fawned over wasn’t real, anyway. Such wishes would only reinforce his feelings of loneliness, of being completely and utterly unknown by the universe.
So he tried to ignore the day as best he could, and push away the memories of empty hands and guilty eyes that haunted the edges of his mind.
Still, the combination of his creeping thoughts with the explosion of work (from both this official job and that man) in the aftermath of the appearance of these so-called “Phantom Thieves” had left him exhausted, and nearly at the mercy of his tired mind. A dangerous combination for one such as him. (Unwanted child, orphan, murderer…)
And somehow, as he tried to run away from the creeping insanity of his overwrought mind, he had ended up here, at Café Leblanc.
A strange feeling rushed over him as he walked through the door and was greeted by a strange mixed aroma of coffee and curry. There was something about the small, homey room that was incredibly familiar, as if he’d been here many times before. Which was impossible. He would know if he’d ever stumbled upon this place before, with its unique smell and gruff bespectacled owner and… was that a copy of Madarame’s “Sayuri” on the wall? Weren’t those nearly impossible to come by?
Curiouser and curiouser…
Perhaps if he had been more mentally aware and well he would have paused to think about the coincidence of it all—how his strange mindless wandering had led him to, of all places, a small café with a bizarre connection to the newest victim of the Phantom Thieves. But it was June 2nd, and he was tired, so tired of thinking, and he needed coffee desperately.
He remained aware enough to at least remember to attempt a charming smile at the owner, before tiredly remarking, “Please, just… give me a cup of your strongest brew.”
“If you insist, kid,” the man replied, his smooth voice standing in contrast to his stern expression.
“I do,” Goro murmured in reply.
The man nodded, then turned around to get to work.
Goro sighed, sinking into a stool at the counter. The old man hadn’t seemed to recognize him, and there was nobody else in the café at present, so maybe he could finally let his guard down for a few minutes. Just a bit, just enough to feel the exhaustion while still fending off the sorrow…
The bell rang again, and Goro sat up quickly, his fake smile already plastered back on. In walked a tousled-haired high school student, his eyes glued to a phone in his hand. His gaze glanced up when he walked through the door, and froze as it landed on Goro.
If the familiarity he had felt upon entering the café had been a drop of rain, then this overwhelming sense of deja-vu was a hurricane. He had never seen this boy before in his life, but he knew him, the black hair falling into his eyes, the startled expression of his face, the small, the beginnings of a smirk moving to cover up the shock that Goro was sure must still read plain on his own face. He quickly shook his head, trying to dislodge that sudden influx of surprise, jealousy, guilt, and… something else that had infiltrated his mental guards.
“Excuse me,” the boy spoke as he made his way toward the counter. “I… I was surprised to see you there. You’re Goro Akechi, right?”
“Oh! Yes, yes I am.” Goro’s shocked expression turned into a grimace. Of course, this boy must be one of his fans. That’s how he knew him. So much for the peace and quiet of the café…
But that doesn’t explain the furious pounding of my heart…
“Oh, I’m not—I mean, I’m sorry, I just recognized you—uh, from TV. I’m not one of your fangirls; I promise,” the boy laughed a little, a hand moving to rub his neck.
“Oh, of course. Of course. I’m sorry too, if my reaction was… unfavorable,” he laughed a little in return. “I was hoping to… enjoy a little solitude. I wouldn’t want my fan club descending on the café.”
“Of course not. I would never. I… just wasn’t expecting to see you before…” the boy’s voice trailed off into a whisper.
Goro blinked once in confusion. “Before?”
“Ah, w-well, my school is, uh, going to a TV station next week, and I guess I sort of figured I’d see you there. You’re scheduled for an interview, right?”
Goro blinked again. He had been scheduled for an interview, but the details had only been finalized this afternoon, and he was fairly certain that information hadn’t been announced to the public yet. “Huh. I guess news travels fast.”
The boy nodded again, the red in his cheeks fading. A cat shot out of his bag with an indignant meow, running up the stairs just as the owner returned with Goro’s cup of coffee.
“Don’t harass the guests, Kurusu,” he spoke as he handed over Goro’s cup.
“Sorry, Sojiro,” the boy (Kurusu?) smiled in apology, but didn’t make any move to leave.
Sojiro rolled his eyes, then turned back to Goro. “Just leave the money on the counter when you’re done. And don’t fall asleep in here; I’m closing up in half an hour.”
“Ah—yes, of course. I’ll be careful.” Goro stared into his cup as Sojiro disappeared back into the back room.
Silence ensued, though Goro was keenly aware of the presence of Kurusu as the young man moved behind the counter and began brewing his own cup.
“Sojiro would kill me if he knew I was brewing while a customer was here, so don’t mention it, k?”
“I won’t—ah, Kurusu, yes?”
He nodded. “Kurusu Akira. You can just call me Akira, though. I don’t mind.”
How strangely familiar. “Ah… Akira,” Goro tried the name out with a small blush. “Akira, are you… related to Sojiro-san?”
“Na, he’s just my guardian for the year while I go to school here in Tokyo. Though I think I’d rather have him as my father than my own. Not that I’d tell him that, not yet.”
Goro nodded, his lips twisting into a grimace. He understood that sentiment entirely.
“What about you, Akechi?” Akira continued. “What brings you in here? Apart from the quiet, that is.”
Goro paused for a moment, unsure what to tell this stranger who felt like so much more. “Well… today is my birthday.”
“Oh!” Akira exclaimed, dropping his cup and turning back to face him. “I had no idea. Happy birthday, then.”
Goro shook his head. “No need. My birthday, ah, isn’t typically a cause for celebration.”
Akira’s smile dropped slightly. “Oh. That’s… I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
“No, I’m not apologizing. I’m just sorry that you feel that way,” Akira leaned over the counter. “But I understand the sentiment. Until recently, my birthday hadn’t been much cause for celebration either. Just another day for my parents to let me down, ya know? Though… given how exhausted you look, I expect your birthday experiences are much worse than mine have been.”
Goro put a hand up to his cheek. Had he let his guard down that much with just a simple sentence?
“I… yes, I suppose they haven’t been particularly… gratifying. Any of them.”
Akira nodded again. “And for that, I’m sorry. You deserve more than that.”
Goro shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t… possibly know that.”
“But I do,” Akira whispered, his face leaning in towards Goro’s. “Everyone deserves more than that. You too. You especially.”
Goro felt his head lighten and cheeks warm as he stared into Akira’s warm, brown eyes, full of genuine empathy and that something else that he had noticed fluttering in his own chest the first time they’d made eye contact.
He quickly turned back to his cup, drinking it as fast as he could without choking on the bitter taste.
He reached into his coin purse, picking out a few 100-yen pieces to place on the counter. “Please… tell him thanks for the coffee.”
Akira nodded, his face retreating a few inches as his eyes continued their stare into Goro’s own. “I will. Please, feel free to come back any time.”
Goro nodded as he stood. “I will. And, ah, I suppose I’ll see you next week. At the television station.”
He moved towards the door, his hands shaking slightly, though from which emotion in particular he couldn’t tell you.
“Goro,”
Goro paused, his glove poised above the doorknob. He glanced back to meet Akira’s piercing gaze one last time.
“Happy birthday.”
***
Despite the thoughts racing through his head all the way home (who was he what did he mean why did he say those things why did I feel--), Goro Akechi couldn’t wipe the small smile off his face.
Or shake the feeling that, for the first time in his life, he had truly, without guilt or remorse, been gifted a happy birthday.