Chapter Text
It’s just past dawn when Goro’s phone pings with a new message from Ryuji, surely on his morning run by now. The bed is warm, soft, a welcome respite to his aching limbs, and the last thing he wants to do is abandon its comfort. But he’s clearly in over his head if he expects to escape Ryuji’s paws for the day, so, well, off to the park he goes.
Ryuji had made it his mission to string along the former detective on his daily jogs once Goro recovered enough from his coma; since then, Goro has accompanied him through foggy mornings, sweltering evenings, chilly nights. The weather doesn’t faze Ryuji, as his energy is too ardent to be burnt off indoors, and of course he has to allow Goro the privilege of experiencing the weather for himself because “it’s exhilarating, man, becoming one with the elements”.
Goro always ponders the effectiveness of this arrangement, especially now, when he can’t be bothered to leave his bed for more than one minute, but… it pleases him to know that it pleases Ryuji. The Thieves are hard-pressed to make sure Goro rehabilitates to their satisfaction, and he has no reason left in him to protest their will.
He throws on a lazy outfit knowing he’ll run into absolutely no one at this time of day and quickly exits his apartment, meeting with Ryuji at the lobby. Ryuji is already geared up, staring boredly at his phone, and when he hears Goro come in, he perks up and pockets his phone. And then promptly stops in his tracks.
One look up and down his figure and Ryuji is twisting his features into a wince, mouth twitching like he’s thinking of something to say. What he settles for is far less eloquent than the effort warrants.
“Man, you look awful.”
Goro rolls his eyes, because he stopped caring about appearing presentable to the Thieves since his meltdown in Shido’s Palace. He plants one hand on his hip and approaches Ryuji with thinly-veiled distaste. “Should you expect anything less?” he mutters, trying to stop the fatigue from leaking into his voice. “It’s ass o'clock in the morning and you want me to look as I did when I was the Detective Prince… Truly, you expect too much of me.”
Ryuji huffs in embarrassment. “Well, whatever! You’re gonna liven up soon anyway. We’re doing five laps around the park today, no breaks.”
“Five?”
“How else are we gonna get some meat into those legs?” Ryuji gives a nudge to Goro’s shin for emphasis. True, Goro did get thinner since December, but it was only because he’d been fucking unconscious. Though he does miss the muscle he built while bicycling as the Detective Prince. And getting into shape tends to improve the mood a little…
“Fine.” Goro grits his teeth, folding his arms across his chest. He’ll play along for now.
Ryuji seems happy about it, anyhow, giving a friendly clap to Goro’s back which… he really only does when Goro chokes on his water. Together they embark for the park nearest to Goro’s complex, empty at this time of day save for an old couple practicing yoga. By now, it’s routine to place their things at a nearby bench, warm up with a few stretches—lunges, hip circles, the whole shebang. Then they line up at the large oak tree where Ryuji usually sets the timer and finishes his runs a whole two laps earlier than Goro.
It’s humiliating, coming to terms with his own weakness, but it’s a truth that couldn’t be concealed even with his usual dollop of deception. There’s a kind of comfort in knowing he has no reason to hide. He can whine to Ryuji about throbbing ankles and sore calves without feeling the need to cover up every hint of discomfort that slips through, a natural instinct he once had during his pursuit of perfection.
To have freedom where he’s never had it… Well, the sensation is odd, to say the least.
“Getting tired, aren’t ya?” Ryuji asks once Goro is on his third lap, the former already on his fifth. Goro resists the urge to hiss at him, flashing a glittering smile instead, and Ryuji just snickers under his breath. Once again, he pushes on ahead.
The park is just starting to get populated by the time Ryuji and Goro finish, the latter drenched from head-to-toe in sweat. He chugs down his third water before joining Ryuji at the bench, accepting the sandwich they’d ordered at the onset. It’s no longer warm and yet it’s godsend when Goro’s probably shedded ten pounds just by jogging alone.
“So, what’re you gonna do once you get home?” Ryuji’s tone is conversational, but there’s a note of insistence in it, some kind of implication that Goro doesn’t get. He furrows his brows as he attempts to fully process the sentence.
“Take a nap, I suppose? You did wake me up at an ungodly hour this morning.”
At that, Ryuji recoils onto the other side of the bench. “What?” he blurts, eyes wide with shock. “Doing nothing on your frickin’ birthday?”
“… My what?”
“Oh my god.” Ryuji flattens a palm against his forehead. “I’m friends with a birdbrain.”
“A birdbrain.”
“Yeah, a birdbrain. And I thought crows never forget important shit like that.”
Goro doesn’t grace that with a response, still taken aback that Ryuji had referred to him as a friend at all (Goro doesn’t call them friends, not yet, he doesn’t deserve it—) but with a moment’s pause he unearths the answer he’d been so desperately foraging for:
“Ah—today is my birthday.”
Ryuji snorts, incredulity lining his tone when he remarks, “Yeah, I said as much!”
Goro shakes his head, disbelieving, his fingers combing through sweaty hair. “How odd… It nearly slipped my mind entirely. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. What with how you practically dragged me out of my bed at the hour of the undead, I wouldn’t put it past me to forget a detail of that nature.”
Ryuji seems like he wants to protest, probably with something like “that’s not an excuse”, but he just clicks his tongue. “Does that mean you’ve got something in mind for later?”
Still yet, Goro shakes his head. “I don’t usually celebrate my birthdays.”
“You don’t—huh?”
Goro folds his hands on his lap, sandwich completely forgotten on the bench as he carefully picks his next words. Every time he shares a detail of his unfortunately loveless past, he manages to attract the pitying looks of the Thieves, and he hates that. “No one has ever valued my birth. Not my mother, though she would buy me a slice of cake for my birthday while she was alive. Certainly not my father, and my foster homes were… too preoccupied to notice the date on the calendar. I’d get a greeting at best. It’s not important to me now. Birthdays are simply days like any other, nothing to hold a grand feast over.”
Something about his speech doesn’t bode well with Ryuji, as his face contorts in a grimace charged with so much indignity that Goro is startled to see it. He must have not phrased his experiences delicately enough, not if Ryuji has to make an expression like that.
“Sakamoto?” he calls to him, tentatively.
No response comes for a moment. And then Ryuji huffs out a breath, ruffling his hair in an unexpected bout of frustration. “Man, don’t look so sorry, okay? I’m just—this is ringing a bell for me. My mother…”
“Your mother?”
“My mother and I were the only ones who celebrated my birthday,” he grumbles out, begrudging in his admittance, like telling Goro this means exposing a vulnerability. “At least, until I met the Thieves. I’m used to hating birthdays, okay? But you got us now. Me, Ren, Ann…”
Goro frowns. “I don’t understand how that changes anything.” Birthdays will still be meaningless, and nothing will make him prefer eating out to staying at home and curling under the blankets, more secure than he could ever be anywhere else. At least, he believes as much. Ryuji, though, is unimpressed. He nudges Goro once on the rib, expression chastising.
“Don’t you have fun hanging out with us? Maybe birthdays aren’t special to you, okay, whatever. But you can make them special. Do a little something extra. You get presents, right? That kinda treatment really makes the notion believable.”
Another sad shake of the head. “I hadn’t told anyone of my birthday until Ann sapped it out of me. Didn’t want to receive presents from people I didn’t care about.”
“And now?”
“Presents, now? No, I don’t deserve them,” Goro insists, no trace of hesitation in his body.
Ryuji is silent for another long, tense moment—and then his face flushes with a renewed vigor. He turns in his seat to fully face Goro: “Close your eyes.”
Goro tilts his head to the side, questioning. “What?”
“Just do it!”
Perplexed, but otherwise indifferent, Goro does as he’s told and searches with his senses for the impending stimulus (a slap on the cheek? hands on his throat? an absence of the presence beside him?) but what he does not expect is large, calloused fingers cradling his cheeks.
A second passes where nothing happens. And then, Ryuji kisses him.
Goro’s first instinct is to hold his breath. He’s frozen, still trying to register that those are Ryuji’s lips on his, chapped from the wind of their run but nevertheless warm, soft, and Goro is no longer in control of his hands. They find purchase on Ryuji’s shoulders, clutching as he leans slightly into the kiss, and suddenly it’s over as quickly as it had started.
When Goro finally pries his eyes open, Ryuji’s face is aflame. “There,” he breathes out, voice a nervous hiss that only further attests to the reality of what just happened. “Your first birthday gift.”
Goro blinks. And then again, this time slower. “That’s what this was?”
“You could at least afford to sound a little more grateful!” Ryuji snaps, and Goro wonders why Ryuji bothered in the first place, how a kiss could count as a birthday gift at all. But despite all logic whirring in his brain, his chest is full and his tongue feels cottony and the only thing he registers at the moment is that persistent itch to do it again.
“I… I mean, thank you.” Goro lowers his head, inexplicably hot. He awkwardly detaches himself from Ryuji’s shirt. It’s not a welcome sensation, truth be told; as soon as he’s re-established the distance, he reaches for Ryuji’s hand and connects them again. Ryuji is startled by the contact, fingers twitching in Goro’s hold.
“U-Uh—?”
“I liked it,” Goro admits, afraid that if he stops now, he’ll double back and abandon all that transpired here, even his own feelings. He strokes the back of Ryuji’s hand with his thumb, lips thinned. “I just don’t understand…”
“… Well I ain’t got any money on me for an actual present, so I just. Yeah, I dunno.” Ryuji’s cheeks are red, redder than Joker’s gloves. He clearly doesn’t expect Goro to accept that as a plausible explanation, so he presses on, “You just looked like you needed it, okay! And I was feelin’ generous. But, um, if you don’t want me to do it again…”
“No, please do.” The words are out of Goro’s mouth before he can prevent their escape. Flustered, but happy, Ryuji nods once and leans forward to repeat the action. This time he entwines both of their hands together and Goro presses into it eagerly, relishing in the warmth spreading from their lips to their palms all the way down to his stomach. He’s almost glad they picked the bench under the large oak tree, because even with the threat of being spotted he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any time soon, and the shade of the foliage ensures some degree of privacy.
At some point, though, they have to pull away, chests heaving from breathlessness. They’d gotten closer over the course of the kiss, foreheads against each other, and it’s sort of gross because they’re still sweaty from the run and Ryuji tastes like the sandwich they had for lunch but the last thing Goro wants to do is to let go. Ryuji averts his gaze bashfully.
“Um… happy birthday, I guess.”
Goro breaks into a giddy smile.
“So this is how it feels,” he comments, feeling special, content beyond all measure.