Chapter Text
Akira Kurusu meets Goro Akechi in second grade.
He’s a transfer student, and not very talkative. At least, it’s reason enough for the other kids to avoid him. Akira finds himself doing the same—and then the class changes seats and Goro is suddenly beside Akira, brown hair a mess and gaze a careful inch away from his own.
Stubbornly, Akira refuses to speak to him. His friends think that Goro’s an alien, and the class gossips about his mysterious past. This carries on for a few days, until some kids from Class 2-A come around and decide it funny to steal his lunch.
“That’s mine,” Goro protests weakly, but the kids laugh.
“You can go another day without it, can’t you, Goro-chan?”
“… I…”
“Oh, Akechi-kun.” The leader of their group, a large, rough-faced boy clicks his tongue, chopsticks digging into Goro’s bento, “I haven’t been eating well, so you wouldn’t mind sharing your food with me, right? I can take one, can’t I?”
Akira watches this all without flinching. However, he can feel his insides turn with an unnameable and suffocating emotion. Goro is clearly malnourished—his complexion is pale, arms long and bony with little (if any) fat. But despite this, he witnesses Goro purse his lips and hand his bento to his bully, not blinking an eye.
“Thank you, Goro-chan!” The children laugh and bid their goodbyes. From beside him, Akira can see Goro trembling, on the verge of tears.
“… Hey.” Akira pokes him, and Goro starts. “U-Um, you can borrow mine…”
A few moments pass after that; it clearly takes an effort for Goro to process this. When he does, his lips part and his eyes widen. “You mean… I can take some of your food?”
“Sure.” Akira shrugs with the pretense of not caring, but secretly he burns with self-satisfaction. Goro brightens and accepts what he’s offered, some tempura and rice and hard-boiled egg. Akira is fine with relinquishing it all, for he’d stuffed himself on breakfast.
“Th-Thank you, Kurusu-kun.” Goro glows, contentment in his eyes, and Akira has to hide the blush that surfaces on his face.
“Anytime, Akechi-kun.”
Their conversation ends there. However, the following week, Akira is less reluctant to examine his fellow classmate—the way his bangs fall over his eyes, the neat, curved handwriting on his worksheets, the Red Hawk mask on the tip of his pencil. He’s quiet, diligent, and submissive to his superiors. A real card in a room full of snot-nosed children. Akira, himself, is no exception.
“You like Featherman?” Akira asks one day, breaking the ice. Goro does a double-take.
“O-Oh.” Once it’s clear that Akira’s talking to him and not anyone else, Goro clears his throat. “Um, you like it too?”
“What do you mean, like it? I love it.”
Goro beams, and their relationship skyrockets from there. The next day, Akira finds himself raving about the newest Phoenix Ranger Featherman R episode, while Goro enthusiastically offers his input. His passion for Red Hawk ups his likeability in Akira’s eyes, and one day, Akira offers to show Goro his collection of Featherman figurines.
“Ah…” Goro smiles, uncertainty in his features. “Is that alright?”
“Sure, my parents are okay with it.”
The statement makes Goro pause, brows drawn together in disbelief. But this reaction is met with perplexion on Akira’s side, so Goro just drops it and agrees to go.
“Cool. We’ll eat and marathon the latest episodes,” Akira tells him, eager to get going. Goro simply nods, allowing Akira to lead the way to his home.
When they get there, Goro expresses shock and amazement with Akira’s collection. It’s only a few figurines and manga books, but the praise is enough to stroke Akira’s ego.
“I never have money for these kinds of luxuries,” Goro admits. “I’m lucky to catch an episode on TV.”
To this, Akira frowns, wondering the reason behind this upsetting fact. He knows better than to question it, though; his mother warns him about these things. He elects to make up for it by showing Goro the episodes he hasn’t seen, and his parents cook them a warm meal.
Immediately, Akira and Goro huddle up on the couch. He doesn’t notice when they get closer, arms pressed together and knees brushing, an indescribable warmth filling Akira’s chest.
They get so absorbed with the show that they don’t notice it’s night. Akira’s mom pops her head in: “Akechi-kun, are you going to sleepover?”
“What?” Akira looks to Goro, blinking rapidly. “Can you? Would your mom allow that?”
All of a sudden, Goro looks significantly uncomfortable. He closes his eyes and sighs.
“I… don’t have a mom.”
Akira tenses. Pinches his brows. “… Oh… sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” Goro says quickly, eyes wide with misplaced worry. “My foster parents… They should be fine with it. They don’t usually need me around.”
That makes things sound even worse. But, Akira can’t complain. He’s excited to spend time with his new friend, and promptly urges his mother to grab Goro a sleeping bag from the closet. The two relocate upstairs after some time and hibernate in Akira’s bedroom, talking late into the night about cool things Red Hawk said during their marathon.
“Hey…” Goro begins, and Akira turns to look at him.
“What is it?”
“Do you think…” Goro pauses, folding his hands over his chest. “Do you think I can be like Red Hawk someday?”
Akira blinks, and then smiles. “Oh, is that it? Sure, but you’ll be different.” He, too, allows himself time to think, gazing at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. “You’ll be like… White Crow or something. And you’ll be the protector of justice!”
“White Crow?” Goro giggles. “That’s so silly, Kurusu-kun.”
Akira’s smile widens. “Just call me Akira, okay?”
“… Akira?” All of a sudden, Goro falls silent. It makes Akira uncomfortable.
He blurts, “In exchange, you’ll have to let me call you Goro, though,” just to fill the silence with something. That returns some of the awareness in Goro’s eyes.
“O-Of course!”
With that over with, they go back to their usual conversations. And then, when Akira grows weary and Goro is too tired to respond to him, they doze off, sleeping soundly to the sound of rain pattering against the windows. He realizes—as he wakes up to Goro’s sleepy smile, to Goro’s incurable bedhead—that his heart hammers two beats faster, and thinks, blearily, that Goro’s smile is like the sun after the clouds part from rain.
Later, he watches Goro scarf down an entire stack of pancakes, and the two walk to school, jumping in the puddles on the sidewalk. He feels happy seeing Goro so… free, and with abandon. In school, he’s stiff and cautious, never really meeting Akira’s eye. Here, he’s bright and energetic and has so much to say. He's no alien creature. He's a boy.
Akira knows this because Goro loves pancakes and wants to be like Red Hawk. He’s also the type of kid to use the word “luxuries” in casual speech. What kind of alien would be so quirky, so human? His classmates have no idea what they're talking about.
Soon, after a multitude of puddles, the two boys near the school. Akira spots his friends at the gate. “Akira!” they holler, waving at him. And then they see Goro, and stop waving. Twist their faces in confusion.
“Hold on,” Akira says to Goro, patting him on the arm. Resigned, Goro nods and waits as Akira jogs up to his group. They are all surveying him with varying degrees of disappointment.
“Akechi-kun… ?”
“Really?”
“He’s not a bad person,” Akira says, frowning. “He’s really nice.”
“… That may be true, but…” Their disapproval warps into hesitation.
“People’re gonna make fun of you.”
“We get you’re a nice guy, but don’t get into trouble, okay?”
Trouble? Akira’s frown deepens, fists clenching at his sides. He wants to yell at them, tell them they’re wrong. That Goro isn’t troublesome at all. Still, despite everything, he nods his head. Smiles, weakly. “Yeah, I get it.”
He returns to Goro’s side, and together, they walk to class. Akira finds himself on the receiving end of the many of the same looks his friends had cast him earlier. Of course, that doesn’t stop Akira from walking with Goro. If anything, it makes his determination burn brighter. I’ll teach them, he thinks, silently fuming. Goro is worth it. I know it.
With Akira at his side, Goro is subject to less bullying at lunch. He feels kind of like a guard dog, sitting there and glaring at any kid who dares get closer. Goro looks at him and smiles whenever he does this. His sun-bright smile.
Akira wouldn’t mind doing this everyday if it meant being able to see that smile.
Of course, he can’t protect Goro from everything. His home life is a total mystery, and kids never fail to express their disdain for him, no matter how indirectly. And yet—despite the darkness that dwells in his eyes after hard days at school, or when he meets Akira in the morning with a limp in his step—he’s always so bright, smiling just for Akira.
“I’m okay,” Goro says each time. “Let’s eat at Big Bang Burger today.”
Of course, Akira hates his secrecy, but he doesn’t push him on it. He has better things to think about, anyway—that smile, for instance.
God, that smile. Why does it make him so warm?
Well, he knows the answer to that, now.
So imagine Akira's surprise when he learns about his newfound crush in fifth grade, freaking out over the suddenness of the revelation. Other boys in his class talk about girls and ogle at pictures of them in mags they stash somewhere secret. Akira, however, finds it much better—and a lot more rewarding—looking at Goro.
Speaking of Goro. By now, he has grown out his hair to his shoulders, and he’s slowly gaining inches over Akira. He’s kept that perfect smile, of course—but now, there’s new value to it. New meaning. Akira doesn’t just like it because it means he’s happy. He likes it because…
When Goro smiles… he’s always so radiant.
He can’t help thinking these thoughts, naturally. He’s a boy about to go through puberty. Goro almost seems to appear in a new light. Akira’s gaze constantly lingers on his eyes, his lips, his jaw… and even lower still, down to his collarbone which peeks out of his uniform during P.E.
… Wow, is it getting a little hot out here?
“Akira?” Goro asks, just seconds before a soccer ball hits him square in the mouth. Akira yelps, falling ungracefully into the dirt, headfirst and limbs tangled awkwardly. He looks like an uprooted weed.
He could definitely think of better ways to appear to his crush.
Everyone rushes around him to check if he’s okay, but Goro shoos them away, opting to take Akira to the nurse alone. It’s no secret to everyone that Goro and Akira are practically inseparable by now, so they don’t question it. That doesn’t mean they don’t narrow their eyes at Goro anyway, though, as if he’s the plague.
Unfortunately, Goro is too acquainted to it to show any outward emotion.
“Are you okay?” he whispers softly, as soon as Akira is all bandaged up and conscious. Akira blushes, kicking his legs back and forth.
“Yes.”
“Be more careful,” Goro chastises, though the smile doesn’t leave his face. Akira smiles back, stupidly, maybe. And looking significantly less attractive with a missing tooth.
Goro laughs, patting him on the knee. Goro is always looking after him like this. Akira may consider himself the protector, but Goro shows he cares in a gentler way, patching him up after scuffles—scuffles about Goro, no less—and offering to help him study before difficult tests.
It’s strange how close they’ve gotten over the years. Now, Akira knows Goro like the back of his hand. His habits, his preferences. He buys vanilla shake to use as dip for fries, he's better than Akira in RPG's but worse in fighter games… Oh, also, he gets the brightest smile on his face when you praise him, and is positively egregious at sports.
Not to mention, his laugh is like the tinkling of the wind chimes in Akira’s backyard.
Goro is unlike any friend he has ever had; he’s honest and captivating and so utterly passionate. He has something Akira doesn’t. Akira doesn’t know what. Still, not that it matters so much when Goro makes him feel this alive, this energetic. He, truly, is the sun after a rainy day.
“Let’s get ice cream after this,” Akira says offhand, fondness making his heart burst. Goro seems surprised, but the surprise quickly melts into understanding.
“I imagine that would help with the tooth, huh? Sure, let’s go.”
Later that day, at the ice cream shop, Akira watches Goro lick at his ice cream, slow and careful, like a kitten. The blush on Akira’s face darkens considerably.
He won’t survive this that long, will he?
It’s a cold winter day when it happens.
On that day, they go on a trip to Dome Town to celebrate Akira’s 12th birthday. Goro is more than happy to win Akira prizes at the booths, the two often leaving with an armful of stuffed toys. It gets to the point where Akira’s mother has to shove it all in a bag they end up toting around the entire park.
“You’re winning too much!” Akira says, finally realizing the futility of all these gifts. Goro flashes him a cheeky smile, and then promptly drops a stuffed cat into the bag.
“I can’t help but want to win for you.”
That makes a flush rise on Akira’s cheeks. Sputtering, he shoves Goro lightly on the shoulder, eliciting a laugh from the other boy.
“You’re embarrassing.” His gaze flickers to the side, too shy to look Goro in the eye. From there, his eye catches on the ferris wheel towering over them. He nudges Goro in the ribs: “Hey, why don’t we go there next?”
Goro sends him a sidelong glance. And then, “Sure.”
Quickly, the two boys fall into line, chattering all the while. Akira attacks him with the cat plushie Goro won him, and Goro retaliates, pecking him with the beak of a crow doll he had scored for himself. By the time they clamber inside one of the capsules, a light snow has begun to fall overhead, softening the scenery with powdery white.
“It’s exquisite,” Goro says, breathless. Akira tries not to laugh at his choice of words. Instead, he regards the view and decides it is, indeed, exquisite.
That’s not all that’s exquisite, though. There’s a light in Goro’s eye that gives off this sense of wonder—of complete and utter awe. But there’s also a hint of something else in there, something hidden beneath the surface. It's almost melancholic. Wistful, perhaps.
“… To be honest,” Goro whispers suddenly, clutching at his seat. “I never thought I would see this much of Tokyo.”
Akira stops bouncing his leg. “What do you mean?”
“… I just…” Goro looks down at his feet, lips pursed. “It never seemed possible. But then I met you. And it felt like I could see the world in you. You just… had so much to give me.”
Akira’s heart stutters in his chest. “That’s…” What’s he supposed to say to that?
“Ah, s-sorry. I don’t mean to sound sentimental, but—” Goro lifts his chin. Smiles slightly. “It’s your birthday, Akira. So I just wanted to thank you. For everything. Sharing your food with me and befriending me. Really, your companionship is… all I could've asked for.”
Akira shakes his head, trying to quell the lovestruck smile growing on his face. “I should be the one thanking you, Goro.”
“For what?”
“For—” Akira stops, realizing he never knew the answer to that all. What can he say? Thank you for being with me? For not pushing me away? Really, there’s so much to say, and yet nothing at all. Goro already knows what he’s done for him.
“I really like you, Akira.”
Akira’s heart stops, suddenly.
“… I…” Goro fiddles with his fingers, cheeks redder than it had been from the cold. “I don’t know. I’m just… so glad we met.”
Tears gather, abruptly, at the corner of his eyes. And before Akira knows it, he is leaning forward, trapping Goro in his embrace. Goro shudders, hugs him back twice as hard. There’s a confession in there somewhere. I’m sorry. Or, thank you.
Or perhaps, I like you.
“Akira—” Goro sniffles, wiping his eyes on Akira’s shoulder. Akira pulls away slightly, meeting Goro’s teary gaze. His nose is red, cheeks flushed and hair slightly askew, lips chapped thanks to the cold. Akira doesn’t care. Akira goes for it.
Being his first kiss and all that, it’s quick and very, very awkward. He presses their lips together like he remembers seeing it in movies, Goro soft and warm against him, then pulling away with lack of another way to continue it. Goro stares at him, awestruck. Akira stares back.
And then they both erupt into short, happy giggles.
“I like you,” Akira whispers, as if confirming. He rests their foreheads together. Rubs his nose against Goro’s.
“… I like you, too…”
They smile, and sit shoulder-to-shoulder the remainder of the ride. When they get home, Goro sleeps over. They share a bed and turn on their sides to look at each other, simply content to lie in each other’s presence.
And just like that, they drift off into a peaceful slumber, their dreams ones of each other.
That kiss changes pretty much everything from then on. Akira is unabashed in showing his affections, and it’s worth all the stuttering whines and blushes that Goro gives him thereafter, one peck after the next, stolen in secret and in public.
This must be love, Akira thinks. This must be how it feels to be so attached to someone. When they go out, just the two of them, childish and naive and so so alive. Goro never dims, never wanes in his brilliance; Akira is constantly entranced, feeling, maybe prematurely, that this is how he wants to spend the rest of his life.
To be happy, and together with Goro.
But then the end of sixth grade comes, and Goro comes to school suddenly drained. It's unnoticeable, at first; Goro is usually good at hiding his emotions. Except this time, there is no cheery morning embrace, no sharing lunches like they're so used to doing. Goro doesn't even have lunch.
It's suspicious, and Akira is getting restless.
“Goro?” Akira asks at the end of class, reaching out for his hand. Goro looks at him, their entwined fingers, eyes blank and unfeeling.
“… Oh. Right.” He blinks, slowly, and nods in acknowledgement. Akira’s lips tug into a frown.
“Are you okay?”
Softly, Goro shakes his head. He tries to smile, but it's brittle. “Don’t worry about it.”
Foolishly, Akira chooses to believe him. And then, the next day, Goro disappears. And Akira never sees him again.