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It starts as a polite gesture, nothing more than a concerned friend offering help.
It's roughly a month before Akechi is to infiltrate the Phantom Thieves, so he often spends time at Cafe Leblanc to keep tabs and take notes. He is lost deep in his work when something jars him from his world of inner speculation.
"You look hungry."
Before Akechi can respond, Kurusu is setting a plate of hot curry in front of him.
"On the house." Kurusu winks in a way that's just so ridiculously casual, though Akechi can't help but blush, clashing feelings of gratitude and shame warring inside of him.
"That's very kind of you." The young detective smiles. "I suppose I haven't eaten much today- I've been quiet busy. I'm sure you can relate." Akechi takes a bite of curry and sighs. It's obviously not Sojiro's exact recipe, not yet, but something about the company and the circumstance makes it taste even better.
When he looks up to compliment his chef, he sees him studying the wall of coffee beans, staring at each label intently. How interesting Kurusu is, Akechi thinks, that he wants to learn anything, everything the world has to offer. He's a bit envious of his aptitude.
"You should eat a little more consistently." Kurusu is still concentrating on the bags of beans, though he's begun opening them and smelling them. "Starving isn't productive to good detective work." He settles on two bags and goes to measure and blend them.
"You're very thoughtful, Kurusu-san." Akechi watches him work near-expertly on his blend.
"I tend to be that way towards my friends." He nods and looks up to Akechi.
Akechi swallows and digests the statement. There's always the possibility of getting too close, hovering his hand above the flame and badly burning himself. Kurusu is a fire he has to extinguish.
In time.
He shudders.
"Go ahead and take your time. You have a while before the last train." Kurusu pours a fresh cup of coffee for Akechi and then one for himself. He takes a sip and contemplates it before nodding and going back to cleaning up the kitchen.
Akechi takes a sip once Kurusu turns away, and he notes it as carefully as the other seemed to do.
It's perfect, Akechi thinks, though it could just be the company.
It pairs perfectly with the curry.
Akechi wonders if there is a similar ingredient in them, a special skill only Kurusu knows.
And he wonders how far Kurusu's kindness goes, if it would extend into forgiveness.
--
The Phantom Thieves are a week into the elder Niijima's palace mission. Goro is a temporary ally for them.
He can't help but feel more like a thorn.
It's early in the evening when Kurusu enters Leblanc, blocking Akechi off from leaving. His eyes shine something devious and knowing, something carefree and playful.
Repulsive.
"Oh, excuse me, I didn't mean to stand in your way." Akechi stands to the side, waiting for Kurusu to pass into the cafe.
"Are you just leaving?" He asks Akechi, shifting his weight to his other foot. "I was hoping you'd be here."
That caught Akechi off guard, but he responds as coolly as he was trained to. "Were you? I apologize, I just finished up my coffee and finally caught up on my assignments."
"So you're free." Kurusu stares Akechi down, and Akechi feels sick. Is he teasing him? Taunting him?
"Why are you asking? Do you have work planned for today?" Akechi hints at their current escapades.
Kurusu shakes his head.
"Stand here." He set the bag down on a bar stool and looked to Morgana. "Keep an eye on him. Don't let him escape."
Kurusu disappears up the stairs for a few moments, leaving Akechi to watch Sakura and awkwardly regard Morgana. The setting is always relaxed, almost like a home away from home.
Kurusu looked good in a cafe like this. He seemed to enjoy the atmosphere as well. Might he continue working in a cafe, or even owning one like Leblanc? The thought sours in his throat; Akechi wasn't giving him the option.
When Kurusu returns, he is holding a brown paper sack. A box, Akechi notes, or maybe a book. As Akira holds it out and Akechi takes it, he confirms it as the latter.
"What is this?"
"You like mystery novels. I finished it a few days ago and though you might like it as well." He nodded as if it was a casual thing, to memorize preferences and give gifts and be so absolutely kind and gentle and strong.
Akechi coughs to conceal what would probably sound like a lighthearted sigh, or worse, a quaking sob. Taking the gift would be polite, cordial, and it would keep his relationship with the Phantom Thieves stable. That's why he takes it. To keep his cover in tact.
He doesn't need gifts and he doesn't need pity.
"I'll be sure to return it once I've finished it. Though it may be a while with my schedule." He offers.
"No worries. Keep it." Kurusu smiles, or maybe beams is the correct word.
Patronizing. He must be doing this on purpose. Taking apart Akechi's brain and treating him like a child.
Akechi feels his body heat up, and he looks down to open the bag in hopes of hiding the obvious discomfort on his face.
"You must be eager to read it. Wait until you get home to open it, though." Kurusu lets out a laughs and Akechi crumbles.
He keeps his face down and looks at his phone. "I'll be sure to do that then." He puts his phone away and bows. "Thank you for the gift, Kurusu-kun. I must be leaving now."
--
There are flowers pressed in between the pages. Akechi finds a delicate bouquets worth of cosmos, delphiniums, forget-me-nots, and a few wildflowers he can't name.
He looks closer to find something else blooming deep inside of himself.
--
There's a stretch of time before the calling card is to be sent to Niijima. This leaves the thieves antsy, sitting on the edges of their seats.
Naturally, Kurusu is more collected than the others, and in a brazen display of that, he invites Akechi out.
Akechi is standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Shibuya diner. He went over and over the texts he received, searching for any evidence of ulterior motive.
[Join me in Shibuya, won't you?]
[My treat.]
[Just us. Is that alright with you?]
Had he been found out? Was Kurusu planning something here? To embarrass him? To berate him? He could hardly believe the younger man would want anything to do with him, let alone go out of his way to invite him out. There had to be a reason, right?
After a few extra moments of collecting himself, he climbs the stairs and enters the dimly lit cafe.
The setting is different than Leblanc, but there's still an easygoing mood about it. It's certainly someplace Akechi can imagine Kurusu frequenting.
As he imagined, Kurusu looks perfect here. He's reading something with a mug next to him in a booth far from the door and away from other patrons.
"Is this seat taken." Akechi offers playfully, gesturing to the booth across from Kurusu.
"That may be a problem. It's reserved seating." He quips back but smiles.
"Reserved for who?" Akechi smiles, equal parts inpatient and relieved at the playful banter.
"Didn't you hear? Ace detective and teenage heartthrob Akechi Goro is supposed to be here today."
Akechi is frozen. It was a joke, he was simply mocking him, right?
The past few weeks, the two had become close, Akechi now had a hard time seeing Kurusu as anything other than honest.
Blushing, he took his seat and mumbled, "I'm sure he won't mind."
A second passes and Akechi manages to recollect himself. "What are you reading?"
"Short stories." He closes his book and puts it into his bag. "Ah, Kafka."
Akechi is grateful for the smooth transition into a normal conversation. He hums and crosses his legs, leaning onto the table.
"I was never too interested after The Metamorphosis. No causality. Random events with no evidence of the origin."
Kurusu nods. "I agree, but it's just horror. Bad things happen to good people, etcetera." His gaze becomes a bit unfocused. "Maybe it too closely resembles reality for some people."
Akechi mulls over the words. He wasn't a stranger to tragedy, or even what some may consider horror. He's been a victim and a perpetrator of it.
"You may be right. Society is largely guilty of averting their focus from reality."
"The truth can hurt." Kurusu looks down, his thick eyelashes concealing his gaze. His demeanor changes in a second, though, his mask exchanged for another. "I doubt you came to wax poetic about tragedy with me, though. How was the ride over here?"
"Fine enough. I managed to catch up on some reading of my own. You have very good taste, Kurusu. The book you gifted me is quiet a head scratcher." He smiles and cocks his head to the side. "You work at a florist, correct?"
Kurusu laughs and nods. "I suppose that makes the source of the flowers less mysterious, right?"
"Indeed. What, if you don't mind me asking," Akechi grows a bit uncomfortable, "was the purpose of them, by the way? I assume you intended to leave them in the book when you gave it to me."
"The purpose?" Kurusu looked at Akechi, as if the answer would be on his face. "I love being surrounded by them, I guess. Smelling the fragrance and seeing how perfectly they grow every time; I thought maybe they would bring a bit of happiness to you." His voice got slower and quieter as he explained, something Akechi only caught as a trained observer. He almost seemed... ashamed?
"They did!" Akechi found himself offering a bit too eagerly. "I, what I mean is..." He looked up to see those strong gray eyes watching him closely. "You have been too kind to me, Kurusu. I find it a bit curious, mostly. Aren't we purely associated through circumstance? You're just far too kind, and I don't think I've done much to deserve it." He cuts himself off before divulging too much.
"The circumstance is special." Kurusu notes thoughtfully, then adds, "You needed to be fed that day, correct? And you needed something to occupy your time, so I thought the book would help. The flowers... I think you needed something to remind you, Akechi. Not everything is bad. You understand, right?"
Kurusu never fails to surprise Akechi. Though this time, the shock hits him where it hurts. What Akechi needed? He shook his head slightly and laughed, feeling tears bud at his eyes.
He had been so worried about being needed himself, he often forgot that he had needs too. Pathetic.
"What do you think I need now then?" Akechi swallowed and laughed weakly as he tried to blink away his tears.
"Now?" Kurusu smiled, genuine and saccharine, and picked up a napkin from the table, then handed it to Akechi. "A handkerchief..."
The action was ridiculous, maybe he's even being mocked, but the presence in his heart is in full bloom, and he finds himself laughing. In a slow movement, he takes the napkin into his gloved hand and pats his cheeks dry.
"... and a friend."
--
Lunch goes by smoothly after that, the conversation then evolving into school, their food, even Featherman, much to Akechi's pleasure.
They leave the cafe and wander around Central, their conversation progressing naturally. They reach the end of the street and Kurusu seems to mull over an idea in his head.
"We should see a movie." He decides, then of course adds, "On me."
It's a tempting offer, but for a moment Akechi remembers what this is, who this is. Why had he even agreed to come? He'll be dead in a few days anyways.
But then, what's really the harm, right?
Before he really has time to decline, Kurusu begins walking away to the ticket booth.
--
Naturally, it's a horror film.
Their hands brush frequently during the hour and a half, a fact Akechi is acutely aware of.
Kurusu doesn't pull away when Akechi reflexively grabs his hand during a jump scare, and he pats his shoulder when he notices the detective shaking slightly.
Every touch seems to be it's own gift, giving life to new blossom under his skin.
--
It's dusk, and Akechi admires the way the city is cast in shadows and orange light as they sit outside in the station square. The scene seems almost surreal in how painfully normal it all is.
An ache rips through him, reminding him normalcy was never in the cards for him.
"Akechi."
Still a bit keyed up on nerves from the movie, Akechi flinches when he hears his name, but turns to his companion.
"I'm going to miss you." Kurusu rubs the back of his neck as he examines the sunset as well. "When this is over, I mean. You'll no doubt be caught up in your duties again, won't you? And I'll be gone in less than a year."
Less than that.
A silence between them stretches on, and it's heavy, full with things that need to be said, that shouldn't be said. Full with a confession, maybe more. Akechi closes his eyes and tries to push it away, but it's persistent.
It's a growing weed, a gluttonous desire Kurusu had planted in his heart. If there was another motive there, some secret intention to being kind and gentle and loving, Akechi wasn't sure he would find it.
He wasn't even sure there was any other reason than the obvious.
When he opens his eyes again, he notices Kurusu is staring at him, his expression unreadable.
The tender grasp at his hand has him feeling sick, has him yearning for something more that he'll never have.
"Akechi..." Kurusu picks his words carefully. "There's no real causality for this either, it's all coincidence. But I'm happy I could meet you."
When Akechi speaks, he notices his voice is weak. "Kurusu," he begins.
"Don't worry." He pulls away from the young detective, leaving sprouts where they touched, and stands.
"I had fun today." He nods and pulls his phone from his back pocket. After looking it over, he sighs and turns to Akechi.
He seems... upset? Sad?
"Will you be safe going home on your own?" His voice is bare, no affect.
Akechi looks up at him and smiles. Golden light frames Kurusu, his appearance almost angelic.
Hell wouldn't have him.
"I will." Akechi's stands before Kurusu.
Without warning, Kurusu brings him into his arms, embracing him closely. The action leaves Akechi breathless, but just as it happens, there is space between them again.
The closeness, the honesty; it breaks his heart.
Good.
--
Once he's home and undressing in his room, Akechi notices something in the pocket of his slacks.
The paper is sturdy and smooth, bright red with tiny white flowers printed on it, folded into 5 distinct pointed petals.
It's a bit bent up from the ride back, but after a bit of impromptu folding, he gets it back into its intended shape.
Perhaps he can entertain the notion of something he doesn't deserve, if only in his own head, in his own room, completely alone.
--
The last gift from Kurusu is a silent, invisible one. It comes when Akechi holds a pistol to the battered teen's forehead. He is silent, despondent, and pliant before Akechi.
Akechi is grateful he doesn't have to fight him.
The feeling of squeezing the trigger is two sided.
He's relieved.
He's ashamed.
When he leaves the gun planted in Kurusu's hand, when he steps over the guard's body, he is collected.
Once he's a safe distance from the scene, he falls apart.
--
Akechi has never been particularly good at gifting.
A white elephant gift exchange found him wrapping up a kitschy set of salt and pepper shakers. They were shaped like pigs kissing.
For Niijima's recent birthday, he purchased her a guided relaxation CD. She took slight offense.
The book and pressed flowers are at his home, on his desk. The bright red origami flower is sitting atop them. They're in plain view, just where Akechi left them.
His head aches and his body smarts. He knows he's bleeding, and if his double doesn't pull the trigger soon, he knows he'll bleed out anyways.
Kurusu is closest to him, meaning he has time to offer a weak smile.
It's not pity in Kurusu's frenzied eyes, and it's not disgust like it should be.
Akechi supposes he's grateful for that. As well as for many other things.
He considers kindness as the greatest gift he's been given, and he's grateful for that.
In a split second, he makes a choice; he feels a growing presence in his chest, something pushing him to act now, act now, act now. It's an overgrowth of weeds, a bed of flowers, and he's doing something he has no time to regret.
--
Akechi has never been particularly good at gifting.
And yet, he hopes Kurusu accepts his sacrifice as intended.