Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a purely theoretical sense, Akira knew that Goro Akechi was famous.

Well, famous might have been too strong a word. Akechi would certainly think so, and would probably give Akira a dirty look for even suggesting it, but none of Akira’s other friends had a fan club – except maybe for Ann, and even then a professional model attracted a very different crowd of fans than a local celebrity.

There were a lot of factors working in Akechi’s favor, Akira decided. He was the son of a beloved politician for one thing, but despite his affluent pedigree, he presented himself as personable and hard-working, which endeared him to his peers and superiors alike. He was the youngest detective working in Shibuya, and yet he found the time to attend a well-regarded university as well.

The novelty of a cute, young, studious detective who also happened to be damn good at his job was like catnip for local news outlets: they couldn’t get enough of Akechi. He was good for ratings – or so he had claimed once, blushing heavily and hiding his face behind a coffee mug like he didn’t quite believe it himself. Akira didn’t really like to watch Akechi on TV (it seemed rude when he knew the man personally), but he’d seen a few interviews and he knew Akechi was selling himself short in that regard. He somehow managed to make the legal red tape involved in detective work sound interesting, he was well-spoken without sounding pretentious, and he was always smartly dressed.

Was it any wonder people recognized Akechi on the street?

Akira thought maybe that was why Akechi had picked Leblanc as his go-to coffee spot. The little café was tucked away in a quiet alley well outside the city limits – not the kind of place that received a lot of random foot traffic. Indeed, if it weren’t for good word of mouth and a supply of loyal regulars, Akira thought they’d have gone out of business years ago. Luckily, Sojiro knew how to keep his customers happy, with not only a genuine talent for brewing coffee but a real knack for reading others, knowing precisely when to clam up and let someone enjoy a peaceful moment with their drink.

That was how Akechi had been when he first started frequenting Leblanc. He was always polite and responded to Akira’s attempts at small talk with a weak smile and stilted enthusiasm, and Akira probably would have continued on oblivious if Sojiro hadn’t pulled him aside one day, telling him to knock it off and leave the poor guy alone for once. And as it turned out, giving Akechi some distance was exactly the right move, because after a few months of arriving and taking his coffee in silence, Akechi began to speak with Akira. Now, nearly a year later, Akira would happily call Akechi not just a favorite customer, but his friend, even if they only ever saw each other while Akira was on the clock.

That still meant they saw each other fairly regularly, given that Akechi came to Leblanc in the early afternoon like near-clockwork, at least on the days his schedule allowed him some time to himself. He was usually in a good mood – if not the moment he walked through the door, then after taking a few minutes to unwind – and so it was strange that today he had been at the café for going on an hour now and his eyes were still downcast, obviously preoccupied with some trouble or another.

“Something on your mind?” Akira finally decided to ask as he came to refresh Akechi’s second mug of coffee that day.

“Ah…” Akechi looked up and smiled faintly at Akira’s coffee pot before shifting his gaze to the person who had actually spoken to him. His ruddy red eyes looked clouded with thought. “It’s – well, yes, but it’s nothing, really,” he said, graciously accepting the fresh coffee with a nod. “Thank you. Please let me know if I overstay my welcome.”

“You know you could stay until closing for all I care,” Akira said.

Akechi did know that, but Akira had learned long ago that the detective preferred verbal confirmation that he wasn’t imposing when he accidentally stayed late. It wasn’t too hard for Akira to indulge him in that way.

An hour passed before Akechi spoke again. It had been a slow evening – the light drizzle outside did nothing to help that – and during the lull, Akira had turned his back to the café so he could get a jump start on the day’s dishes. He was so absorbed in his chore that he nearly missed Akechi calling out to him.

Once Akira turned to face him with a curious look and the implication to continue, Akechi stated: “I want to do something.”

Akira took a moment to swipe a dry towel over the pan he had been washing and then shrugged. “So do it,” he said, and Akechi sighed.

“It’s not that simple,” he replied.

“Sorry,” Akira said. “I know that. I shouldn’t have joked.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” Akechi said.

There was a long moment of silence during which Akira thought the conversation had ended before Akechi said, “These aren’t my clothes.”

Akira blinked.

“I mean I didn’t purchase them for myself,” Akechi explained.

"Oh yeah?" Akira asked, and took a moment to look Akechi over. In his experience, Akechi was usually wearing something just like this: neatly ironed slacks with a button-down shirt and tie, and a waist-length wool coat that was currently draped over the back of his barstool. It was a modern, professional look, if a little formal for Akira’s tastes, but it had always seemed like the kind of straightforward, no-nonsense style of fashion someone like Akechi would naturally gravitate towards.

“Indeed so," Akechi replied. He sighed and looked wearily up at Akira. "It’s very tiresome, you know… being the son of a Diet politician."

Akira nodded. He was no stranger to unwanted public attention, although his personal experiences had trended in a decidedly more negative direction than anything Akechi would have to deal with… or so Akira had assumed. Akechi very rarely spoke about his father, and more rarely still about politics, and Akira realized he didn’t actually know how Akechi felt about being so prominently in the local limelight.

Sitting as he now was – slumped forward over the counter directly beneath one of Leblanc’s light fixtures – Akechi’s face was thrown into harsh contrast, making the bags under his eyes seem particularly pronounced. He looked as though the only things keeping him going were Leblanc’s coffee and, perhaps, a hint of spite.

“Some time ago, my father contributed a large lump sum to the construction of an orphanage just outside of Shibuya,” Akechi continued, staring off into the space just behind Akira’s shoulder while he spoke. “At the end of the month, he will be holding an event to commemorate its completion… though I suspect it will also be a chance to make nice with wealthy political and business allies, people of that ilk. I’m going, of course. I have to.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’m allowed a plus one.”

“That sounds pretty boring,” Akira said. “Do you always get dragged to political events because of your dad?”

“On occasion,” Akechi said. He paused for a moment to take another sip of his coffee, longer this time, and then he set his mug down with a decisive clack, turned to look Akira in the eyes, and asked, “Kurusu-kun, would you date me?”

The glass Akira had been drying nearly fell from his hands.

“Um,” Akira said.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I suppose I could have phrased that better,” Akechi said, flashing him an apologetic smile. “What I meant to say was: would you be willing to pose as my date? It wouldn’t have to be for long – just a week or two.”

Akira had worked as a barista for long enough that he had trained himself to remain completely placid, even in the face of belligerent customers, and this was a skill he was currently putting to good use by not staring at Akechi, mouth agape, for even suggesting such a thing.

“Why?” he asked, after he had finally composed his mind enough to form a complete thought.

“For the party,” Akechi explained. “As I said, I’m allowed to bring a guest. I thought you might like to accompany me.”

“As your date,” Akira said, still hung up on that trivial detail. “Wait, for a whole week?” he asked.

“Mm,” Akechi nodded. “That would be for… visibility, you could say. Proof.”

“Proof,” Akira said. “For whom?”

“The public,” Akechi said. He flexed his fingers against his coffee mug. “My father,” he added.

“That…” Akira ran a hand through his hair. Thank god it was late and there was no one else in the café to hear this – even Sojiro had already gone home. “Is it that important? That seems like a lot of work for not a lot of payoff,” he said.

Akechi took a long breath before answering. “It would seem my father has decided it’s time for me to start dating,” he said, which Akira didn’t really think was a good answer to his question. Akechi sounded like he was going somewhere with this, though, so Akira let him.

“Daughters of fellow politicians, business heirs… He’s given them my name, even handed out my phone number without telling me. Of course, refusing outright to meet with them would be unthinkably rude, but I simply will not consider someone my father has picked out, purely on principle.” 

Akechi’s eyes flicked up to Akira, trying to gauge his reaction, and Akira quickly decided to nod.

“I get that,” he said.

A smile came to Akechi’s face, brief but noticeable all the same. “To tell the truth," he began again, "there are times when I believe my father sees me as little more than a prop he can tote around and use to garner praise from the masses." While he remained outwardly calm, Akira could see the way Akechi now clutched his coffee mug with white-knuckled intensity. “He’s been out of town for a week. The next time I’ll see him again will be at the event. I believe he absolutely expects me to invite one of his chosen prospects to the event with me. To show up alone would be one thing, certainly, but…”

“Ah,” Akira said. He was starting to connect the dots.

“To show a flagrant disregard for his wishes in such a public setting, well… I know it will infuriate him, and he won’t be able to say a thing.”

It was strange. Akira was certain Akechi had never revealed so much about himself in a single sitting before. It was privileged information, to be sure, and Akira was honestly surprised Akechi trusted him enough to confide this secret in him. On top of that, the expression on his face… he didn’t know Akechi could look so vindictive.

Akira really hated that his first response was to laugh. Not an uproarious laugh, just a surprised giggle really, but a laugh all the same.

Akechi’s cheeks flared red with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh!” he huffed.

“I’m not, I’m sorry; it’s just…” Akira took a breath and forced down his smile. “I wasn’t expecting that kind of reason.”

Although he tried to sustain his indignant anger, Akechi deflated a little. “I suppose it is unexpected, isn’t it?” he mused aloud. “What can I say…? Every aspect of my life is meticulously scrutinized by someone else. I want… I need to take control, even if it’s just in a small way. Even if it’s just this way.”

Well, shit. If his earlier confession had been revealing, then this was absolutely soul-baring in comparison. Akira had always thought of Akechi as a walled-off person, but had assumed it was simply the result of a reserved personality. Knowing what he did now, perhaps there was more to it than Akira had realized. Something as simple as this… it seemed like such a stupid idea, but perhaps that was the point. And who knew? It might be fun.

Akira leaned against the countertop, propping himself up by the elbows, and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Akechi repeated.

“Yeah,” Akira said. He could feel a grin coming to his face as he watched a tiny flicker of excitement light up the depths of Akechi’s eyes. “Let’s piss off your dad.”

Two weeks – that was how long they had until the party. Akira thought that was plenty of time to forge a faux history between the two of them, but Akechi obviously felt otherwise, wasting no time in inviting Akira out to eat the very next night.

The reality of what he had gotten himself into only hit him when he was standing in front of his closet, his first public outing with his pretend boyfriend just an hour away, and he realized he was wading knee-deep into unknown territory. He had certainly been on his fair share of dates, but this was… different. Should he dress normally? It was just a date – not even that, really – so he didn’t want to seem like he was trying too hard, but at the same time it wouldn’t do to look sloppy, so…

Eventually he settled on dressing up just a little, throwing on some dark-wash jeans, a white shirt that was mercifully free of any black Morgana fur, and an old blazer that he liked a lot, but which felt too nice to wear every day. If Akechi was hoping people would notice the two of them together, Akira figured he should at least wear something flattering. Once he was at last satisfied with his look, Akira left for the train station, avoiding Sojiro’s questioning gaze on the way out. He hadn’t bothered to explain what was going on, and wasn’t convinced Sojiro would even care if he knew, but Akira still wasn’t looking forward to fielding the questions he knew Sojiro would toss at him later on.

That was a worry for another time, however, and once he was on the train, Akira relaxed a little as he contemplated how he was going to conduct himself tonight. While he’d never considered himself that great of an actor, barely able to pass himself off as a meek and harmless high school student to his teachers back in the day, he didn’t think it would be too hard to pretend to be infatuated with Akechi – at least not over such a short time frame. Admittedly, it had been a while since Akira had been on a proper date, but how different could it be from just hanging out together? Akechi was easy enough to talk to at Leblanc, so as long as he made sure to toss in a few flirtations here and there, Akira was certain he could pull this off.

When he reached his stop, Akira wound his way up to ground level, where he found Akechi sitting on a bench just a few yards from the subway entrance. Akira noted with some dismay that Akechi was wearing his usual shirt and slacks combo; he must have had work earlier that day. It was too late to turn around and change now, however, and as chance would have it, Akechi looked up right at that moment, his face brightening when he saw Akira.

“Ah, Kurusu-kun,” Akechi said, getting to his feet and stowing his book away as Akira walked over. “I’m glad to see you.” He looked Akira over, his lips quirking upward in a little smile. “You look nice. Did you do that for me?” he asked.

“Well, I…” Akira rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re sweet,” Akechi said, before Akira could get a word in edgewise. “Come on, let’s get going.” With that, he stepped into place by Akira’s side and took him by the hand, lacing their fingers together and leading the way down the street. Akira felt his pulse pick up, just a little. None of his past relationships had ever progressed to the point where he would have been comfortable with any overt public displays of affection, even something as unremarkable as hand-holding… but this was the fiction they were trying to craft, and so he tried not to think anything of it.

“I hope you like the place I’ve chosen,” Akechi said. He sounded cheery and energetic, a voice Akira recognized from the few of Akechi’s interviews he had seen. “I’ve been there several times now. I visit a lot of places, just to try them; most don’t stand out, but this one I rather enjoyed…”

Akechi continued on about restaurants and food, gesturing enthusiastically with his free hand while he spoke, but Akira wasn’t really listening anymore. He was starting to feel decidedly outmatched by Akechi, who was radiating charming energy and pressing close to Akira’s side like they did this every day, leaving Akira’s mind reeling as he tried to catch up. He felt clumsy on his feet all of a sudden, terrified that he was going to trip and fall to the ground, bringing Akechi down with him, unable to let go of the hand that tethered him to his companion. He was so hyper-focused on watching where he was going that he didn’t even notice Akechi trail off until he wasn’t speaking at all.

Akechi loosened his grip on Akira’s hand and asked, “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Akira said, and after a split-second’s hesitation, he pulled their hands back together. “I guess I just… I’ve never really seen you in your public persona. You’re really different in Leblanc.”

Akechi was quiet for a moment. “I have an image to maintain,” he finally said, less enthusiastic than before. “And I would say it’s not that I’m different at Leblanc, and more that I’m different out here,” he added. “We should continue this conversation another time, all right?”

“All right,” Akira agreed, filing that memory away for future reference. He took a steadying breath and tried to focus on acting naturally. “So, um, do I need to… like, do anything special tonight?” he asked.

“Other than dote on me?” Akechi asked, a playful smile on his face, while Akira’s no doubt turned pink. “I’m actually not joking, you know. I don’t know how people always manage to find me, but they certainly do. A single public date, and I expect that by tomorrow, there will be pictures of us online.”

“Seriously?” Akira asked. That seemed like an absurd turn-around time. “That must get old fast.”

“You think?” Akechi asked dryly. “Imagine living with it. But, ah, it’s something you learn to mitigate…"

Their conversation turned to lighter topics, and shortly thereafter, Akechi was pointing out their destination. The restaurant didn’t look particularly big, and its exterior wasn’t very showy, and that was honestly a little surprising to Akira. He didn’t exactly follow Akechi’s food blog, but he’d skimmed it a few times, enough to know that the places he visited weren’t exactly Akira’s style – lots of fancy, modern restaurants that prided presentation over taste.

He realized he’d been mentally preparing for something like that, so much so that he couldn’t help stating: “This is a sushi restaurant,” when they arrived, like Akechi had made a mistake in bringing them there.

“Yes,” Akechi said, and he looked… a little flustered? “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s great,” Akira was quick to assure him. “Based on your blog, I was just expecting something… trendier?”

Akechi laughed. “Ah, yes; well, I’m afraid the restaurants I showcase there are simply my attempt at remaining relevant online. If given the choice, however, my tastes are… I guess you could call them fairly simple,” he said, chuckling again, but his smile looked notably strained.

Was this what he meant about having an image to maintain? What a pain that must be, unable to go where he wanted just because of how other people might react, even over something as meaningless as dinner… it was almost like being a kid again, dragged around by your parents with no say in the matter.

“I like simple,” Akira said, and he squeezed Akechi’s gloved hand in what he hoped was a reassuring and not creepy way. “It’s hard to mess up.”

It must have worked, because Akira felt Akechi squeeze his hand back with the barest hint of pressure, and then his cheery smile was back on his face.

“I agree,” he said. “Shall we, then?”

Once they were safely indoors and potentially out of the public eye, Akechi’s whole being seemed to relax. It wasn't hard to see why; the restaurant had a pleasantly comfortable atmosphere that instantly put Akira at ease, too. It reminded him of Leblanc a little, and he was starting to wonder if Akechi’s tastes weren’t just simple, but predictable as well. He made a mental note – Akechi likes casual places – just in case it would be his job to think of a date sometime later.

They greeted their waitress, who led them to a small table near a window and allowed them a moment to mull over their options for the evening. After a few minutes waffling back and forth on what he wanted, Akira eventually conceded and let Akechi order for the both of them; he wasn’t picky when it came to sushi, and Akechi seemed delighted to be put in charge of selecting something he thought would be to Akira’s tastes. Then the waitress stepped away, and they were left to themselves while their food was prepared.

This would probably be the time for some small talk, Akira thought, and he cast around in his brain for something harmless and safe to bring up. What kind of things would you want to learn about on your first date? Akira already knew about Akechi’s job, his hobbies, even what he was studying in university right now; really, there was only one question he had in mind.

“Akechi?” he asked. “Why’d you ask me to do this?”

“Having second thoughts?” Akechi asked. His voice was light and airy, but there was a sudden tightness to his posture, as if he was worried Akira’s answer to his question might be ‘yes’.

“Not at all,” Akira said. “I’m just surprised you picked me, of all people.”

There was a long moment where Akechi turned his attention to the window and said nothing. When he did finally speak, it was with a clinical, matter-of-fact tone that lacked any kind of warmth. “There are a few reasons,” he said, “the first of which is your reputation, or lack thereof. The world of politics is disgustingly cliquey, and I’m certain my father intended for my date to be a public expression of his commitment to a social alliance between two families, so the fact that you’re no one special is a statement in and of itself. Not to mention the fact that you’re a man; no one will say anything about it out loud, of course, but it will certainly turn some heads…”

He trailed off with a sigh. “But mostly, it’s because I didn’t trust anyone else enough to ask them.” He looked back at Akira and smiled wryly. “Haha… it’s rather pathetic, isn’t it? The only person in my life that I know isn’t just trying to use me is the man who sells me coffee.”

Akira stared. He was going to have to completely revise his mental image of Akechi at this rate.

“O-oh, um…” Akechi must have mistaken Akira’s surprised silence for something like disgust, because he immediately started to backtrack. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. What I meant was, well, my co-workers are all a few years my seniors, and at university I haven’t really… I’m sure I could have found someone to ask, but I’ve gotten to know you rather well over time, and I—”

“Akechi,” Akira said, cutting off Akechi’s rambling before it could go any further. “It’s okay; I get it. I already said yes, didn’t I?”

“I suppose so…” Akechi said, sounding not at all convinced. “You… don’t think it’s too petty of me to do something like this, do you?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s definitely petty,” Akira said at once, grinning. “But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? I mean, that’s why I said yes in the first place. To help you spite your dad in public.”

That made Akechi smile. “Right… yes. Thank you, Kurusu-kun,” he said. “Oh, um… would it be okay if I called you Akira for the time being? If we’re to be dating, then it would seem more natural that way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Akira nodded. “It’s fine. And I’ll call you Goro, right?”

“Please,” Akechi said.

It was after this that their food arrived, and as they eagerly took to their sushi, Akira found making conversation to be far easier than he’d first anticipated. It was nice; they never got to talk this freely at Leblanc, not when Akira had other customers to attend to, and even when he didn’t… the counter kept them apart, Akira on one side and Akechi the other. It just inclined him to be less friendly, less open. Without such a barrier, however, Akira found no shortage of things to discuss with Akechi.

They were working their way through a second order of maki rolls when Akira thought to ask, “So, what’s our story?”

Akechi frowned. “Our story? I don’t follow…”

“We’ve been dating for a while, right? Allegedly, I mean. So why hasn’t anyone caught us together before?” Akira asked.

“Oh, that,” Akechi said. “I haven’t thought too much about it, but I think… I think I would have been more careful to avoid the media at the beginning of our relationship, and after a while I’ve become complacent… comfortable. Or perhaps now it’s been so long that we’ve gotten more serious, and I’m more willing to be seen with you.”

Pretty straightforward, Akira thought… but it was better to keep things simple in cases like this.

“All right, I can work with that,” Akira said. “So, what other kind of foods do you like?”

“You’re certainly full of questions all of a sudden,” Akechi said, with a smile that was equal parts amused and confused.

“It wouldn’t look very good if your boyfriend didn’t know what kind of foods you liked, would it?” Akira countered.

Akechi tilted his head, eyes wide with surprise, like he’d never even considered that. “Oh, well… in that case, as I said, I like simple things, and snack foods. I like ramen and takoyaki, and I… am quite fond of sweets, as well,” he said.

“What kind of sweets?” Akira prompted him.

“…all kinds. Crepes and sweet breads, especially… anything with whipped cream,” Akechi said quietly, dropping his gaze to the table. “Sorry; it’s childish, I know…”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Akira said. “I like sweets, too. Anyway, it’s cute.”

“Is it…?” Akechi seemed skeptical. “That’s good, I suppose.”

They continued to swap bits of trivia about their likes and dislikes until they had finished their meal, at which point Akechi insisted on paying the bill in full (and again Akira felt outmatched – not that it really mattered, but still… he’d have to step up his game for their next pretend-date), and they left the restaurant together. The sun had begun to set over dinner, and the air had turned cool, just enough to give Akira a chill, even under his long sleeves. He hunched his shoulders up and shoved his free hand into his pocket to try and keep warm as he and Akechi walked leisurely down the street in the general direction of the train station.

Along the way, Akira found himself glancing surreptitiously around, trying to see if anyone was watching or following them… but honestly, he hadn’t seen a single soul all night that seemed to be paying them any attention. He wondered if Akechi’s plan was even going to work. It had been a pretty fun night, so it wasn’t like Akira felt the time had been wasted, but it would still be a shame if they went through all this for naught.

Eventually they found their way back to the train station, at which point they paused, Akechi guiding Akira over to a semi-secluded area behind a pillar. It was just past rush hour now, and while the station was still plenty busy, it wasn’t so packed that they couldn’t find a place to themselves.

“I think that went rather well,” Akechi said in a soft voice, glancing around the corner as he did. “Only time will tell if we’ve been discovered, but even if not, we still have plenty of time.” He shifted in place, some thought stuck in his throat before he hastily added, “and… I had fun.”

“Yeah,” Akira said, momentarily thrown off-guard by the smile Akechi gave him. “Me too.”

They lapsed into silence, and suddenly Akira found Akechi staring at him expectantly, fixing him with eye contact so intense Akira felt compelled to look away, flustered. He heard Akechi laugh softly and take a step forward, coming close, very close. Akira didn’t realize what was happening until Akechi had a hand on his cheek, tilting his face forward and pulling him into a chaste kiss. Akira’s eyes snapped shut and his hands flew to Akechi’s arms, gripping him tightly for fear of falling over.

Fuck, Akira didn’t think – he should have guessed, but he – he didn’t think their first kiss would be so public. He wasn’t proud of the way he froze up, letting Akechi do all the work while he stood stock-still like a complete idiot, only remembering that he should probably kiss back by the time Akechi was pulling away.

“Get home safe, Akira-kun,” Akechi said, and with a smile tossed over his shoulder and a wave of his hand, he disappeared onto the subway. Akira stood and watched until his train had completely pulled away, listening to the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He probably could have handled that better.

But still, it was far from the worst date Akira had even been on.

Chapter Text

Akechi was right: word traveled fast online.

It was hardly noon the next day when Akira, who had spent the morning lounging in bed and pretending he didn’t have work later, heard his phone vibrate. He was half expecting it to be Akechi, but no; it was Ann calling him. He grabbed his phone off the windowsill and picked up, and before he even had the chance to greet her, Ann was yelling in his ear:

“Oh my god Akira are you dating Goro Akechi???”

Well, that answered his question from last night – obviously, someone had seen them. Akira put on the flattest voice he could pull and responded: “Wait, that was supposed to be a secret. How do you know?”

Silence from the other side of the line.

“Are you serious right now.”

“I’m always serious, Ann.”

“Akira…” Ann sighed, exasperated, into the phone.

“Okay, okay,” Akira laughed. “You saw online, right? He told me that might happen.”

“Oh my god, tell me all about it,” Ann gushed, her voice so exuberant that Akira could practically see her hand clenched into a fist with excitement. “Who made the first move? It was Goro-kun, right? How long has this been going on?”

“I, uh…”

Akira wondered why he hadn’t thought to prepare for this. Lying to the faceless masses, or to Akechi’s dad and his political cronies, that was one thing. Lying to his friends, though… not only did it feel like a huge breach of trust, but there was no way he could convince Ann he’d been dating Akechi behind everyone’s backs for an entire year; she wouldn’t buy it for a second.

Should he just tell the truth, then? It wasn’t as though there would be much overlap between his circle of friends and the people who would likely attend some political party… but he’d made a deal with Akechi, and he was going to stick to his story. So, a lie it was. He’d just need to tweak a few things.

Clearing his throat, Akira tried again.

“Yeah, it was him, and a… a few weeks now, I guess,” he said. That was probably fine; a lie like this was straightforward, plausible, and easy to keep straight. “He, um… said he’s been thinking about it for a while. I guess he finally got the courage to tell me.”

“I knew it,” Ann said. “He’s always so attentive towards you when I see him at Leblanc – and he comes in by himself all the time, right? And like, no offense Akira, but you’re kind of oblivious, so if he’d been dropping hints for you, I bet you wouldn’t have even noticed…”

Choosing to ignore the dig against him, Akira instead asked, “Ann, you come to Leblanc by yourself all the time, too. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Argh, you’re the worst!” Ann groaned. “You know what I mean. I’m trying to say I’m happy for you, you idiot! You deserve someone special in your life, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Akira said, the enthusiasm in his voice waning. This wasn’t the first time his love life had been the topic of conversation amongst his friends, not with how long he’d been single, but it wasn’t something he had a problem with, honestly. After his whirlwind high school years, he was just glad for a stable job and a room to call his own – a fact he’d repeatedly told his friends – but he could still see them exchanging unconvinced glances, no doubt wondering if he really felt that way or if he was simply unwilling to step out of his comfort zone.

And to be fair, he liked staying in his comfort zone, but he really was telling the truth. He wasn’t going to deny that he’d enjoyed his faux date with Akechi, but at the same time, it wasn’t like he couldn’t go out to dinner with his friends if he really wanted to. He had plenty of strong relationships in his life – it’s just that none of them were romantic, and Akira liked that just fine, thanks.

“Don’t look up anything online, okay?” Ann added, dragging Akira out of his thoughts and back into the present conversation. “Gossip blogs are super shitty, but they have a short attention span. It won’t be long before they’ve moved on to something else.”

That was probably sound advice – if anyone would know about dealing with internet rumormongers, it'd be Ann. Akira mustered up a smile – it was the least he could do for Ann when she was giving him such earnest advice – and said, “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Ann.”

“You know it!” Ann sounded like she was beaming. “All right, I’ve actually gotta go – I’m just on break at a shoot – but when I saw your picture show up on my feed, I had to call you. Let’s get coffee later, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Akira said. “Now get back to work, Ann.”

She groaned at him, but she was laughing when she said goodbye.

Akira sighed and flopped back onto his bed. Well, that hadn’t been too bad. It was definitely a little off-putting to know that he’d been watched last night and he hadn’t even noticed it, but… that was the plan, right? So he guessed that was a good thing.

Phone still in hand, Akira decided to send Akechi a message.

>>Akira Kurusu: We’re online.

Then he finally dragged himself out of bed for the day, and while he was shooing a sleeping Morgana from atop his clean laundry pile, he heard his phone buzz in response.

>>Goro Akechi: Are we? I haven’t bothered to check.

>>Akira Kurusu: Neither have I. Ann just called me and said she saw our picture.

>>Goro Akechi: Haha, is that so?
>>Goro Akechi: Ah, how interesting. I wouldn’t have expected one of your friends would find us out so quickly.
>>Goro Akechi: But that just means the plan is working, doesn’t it?

>>Akira Kurusu: Yeah.
>>Akira Kurusu: Ann spends a lot of time managing her brand on social media
>>Akira Kurusu: So I’m not surprised it was her.

>>Goro Akechi: Of course, that makes sense.

There was a short pause before Akechi added,

>>Goro Akechi: Anyway, while I’m thinking about it, would you like to meet up after I’m done with class tomorrow?
>>Goro Akechi: I have a fairly long day at work in the afternoon, but I have some free time before then.

Now that they’d been spotted for sure, it was important to keep up appearances, Akira supposed.

>>Akira Kurusu: Sure.
>>Akira Kurusu: Let’s meet at the bakery under Shibuya station. That’s pretty close to work for you, right?
>>Akira Kurusu: We can get something sweet.

>>Goro Akechi: Ah, I’m going to regret telling you about my food preferences, aren’t I?
>>Goro Akechi: or my wallet will, at least.

Akira hesitated for a second before replying.

>>Akira Kurusu: It’ll be my treat.
>>Akira Kurusu: You paid for dinner, so it’s only fair.

>>Goro Akechi: Well, how can I say no to an offer like that?
>>Goro Akechi: You’re talking about Yon-Germain, correct?
>>Goro Akechi: Class is over at 10am. Can you make it by 10:30?

>>Akira Kurusu: That’s the place
>>Akira Kurusu: and yeah, no problem.
>>Akira Kurusu: See you then.

Akira typed out “it’s a date. ;)” but erased it before he could hit send. It probably wouldn’t be as funny as he thought.

It was nice and sunny the next day, and the good weather made it a little easier for Akira to leave his bed before 10am on his day off, all so that he could meet Akechi for lunch. Well, for “lunch” – he was already thinking about fruit tarts and cream-filled puff pastries on the train ride over, and his stomach gave a warning growl. Forgoing breakfast probably wasn’t the smartest move, but that was a problem for future Akira.

As he was idly passing time on the train, he received a pair of text messages, not from Akechi as he first expected, but from Futaba: the first, a long string of question marks, and the second, a picture. It took a moment to load, but Akira already had a feeling he knew what it was going to be. Even after his conversation with Ann, Akira hadn’t bothered to look for the picture she had seen – he wouldn’t have known where to look, anyway – but now it didn’t matter; it had come to him, courtesy of Futaba.

The picture’s quality was… not great, taken at an angle and a little out of focus, but it still clearly depicted him and Akechi while on their sushi date. They were sitting across from each other, Akira leaning forward across the table with a pair of chopsticks in his hand, while Akechi was caught mid-laugh, his hand covering his mouth. Akira’s skin prickled uncomfortably. Someone had been watching them inside the restaurant? Oh, that was beyond creepy.

Before he could reply, Futaba sent him another picture. This one was better quality – still probably a cell phone snap, though – and caught their kiss at the train station. That, at least, had been public on purpose… but it was still sort of creepy, Akira decided.

“Dating a celebrity is tough” was all Akira sent to her, and seconds later, she was blowing up his phone again.

>>Futaba Sakura: ???!!?!(!(
>>Futaba Sakura: WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN???
>>Futaba Sakura: I WANT DETAILS
>>Futaba Sakura: NOW.

Akira stifled a laugh.

>>Futaba Sakura: AKIRA
>>Futaba Sakura: I CAN SEE YOU READING THIS
>>Futaba Sakura: DON’T YOU IGNORE ME

>>Akira Kurusu: Looks like your caps are broken.

>>Futaba Sakura: smartass
>>Futaba Sakura: look.
>>Futaba Sakura: there are pictures of you
>>Futaba Sakura: kissing that pretty-boy detective
>>Futaba Sakura: online
>>Futaba Sakura: when a week ago you told me you’ve been bone dry when it comes to dates lately
>>Futaba Sakura: cAN YOU BLAME ME??

Interesting, Akira thought – it seemed like she’d found the pictures on her own; Ann must not have said anything. He was curious where Futaba had been poking around to find them… but his stop was coming up, so that would have to be a conversation for another day.

>>Akira Kurusu: I’m actually about to meet him for another date
>>Akira Kurusu: So I can’t talk right now.

>>Futaba Sakura: ???????

Akira hastily sent her one last text as his train slowed, pulling into the station.

>>Akira Kurusu: I promise to give you all the juicy details later, okay?

>>Futaba Sakura: I’M HOLDING YOU TO THAT

Akira just caught her reply before he pocketed his phone and left his train, making his way through the Ginza line gate towards Yon-Germain. As the bakery came into view, Akira could see that Akechi was already there, bent slightly at the waist as he perused the racks of baked goods in the central display case.

“You’re so much faster than I am,” Akira said in lieu of a greeting, coming to rest just behind Akechi’s right side. To Akira’s disappointment, if Akechi was startled, he masked it astonishingly well, standing upright and looking sideways at Akira with a little smile on his face.

“I’m lucky,” Akechi said. “I always make sure my train arrives exactly when I do.”

“Oh, is that the trick?” Akira asked, and he found himself grinning right back – Akechi’s smile was infectious. “Right, I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

A few minutes later, they left the bakery with a cream-filled cornet for Akechi and a pear tart for Akira, which Akira dutifully paid for, as he promised he would. It was Akechi who suggested they go find a bench on the surface where they could eat, and considering it was pleasantly temperate for the season, Akira was glad to agree.

It was bustling outside the train station at this time of day, but still they managed to find an unoccupied bench a little ways away from the crowds where they could sit and people-watch. They sat down side-by-side, and though there was plenty of room on the bench, they were careful to sit close enough together to look couple-y, though not so close that their arms would get in the way as they ate their treats.

“How was class this morning?” Akira asked.

Akechi looked at him, making eye contact right as he licked a little mound of cream off the end of his pastry. “It was about the same as usual,” he said. “It’s a lecture class, so it’s not terribly mentally taxing…” he trailed off, pausing to take a bite of the cornet. “But it’s for the best,” he added. “I’m still working full-time, after all. That’s where most of my concentration should go.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Akira said. He took a bite of his tart, and found it had a nice consistency, gooey and warm without quite falling into mushy territory. “Is the subject interesting, at least?” he asked.

“Interesting enough, I suppose,” Akechi said. “It’s a history class, something the University requires I take. It would be more engaging, I suspect, if the professor wasn’t quite so…” he trailed off in search of the right word, and during the brief lull in conversation, a new voice cut through the background chatter:

“Isn’t that Akechi-kun?”

It was too shrill to be called a proper whisper, but its owner was at least trying to keep their voice down. Akechi froze and immediately became fascinated by the remaining half of his cornet, while Akira couldn’t resist letting his eyes drift around a little in an attempt to pinpoint the source. It wasn’t hard to do; several feet away and directly to Akira’s right stood a trio of girls, who had congregated with drinks from a nearby tea stand and were hunched together under a shady tree, glancing furtively towards Akechi.

“Who’s he with?”

“I saw him the other day! In a picture, I mean. They were… kissing.”

They sounded young, young enough to still be in high school, Akira thought, and he felt himself suddenly transported back in time. He was all too familiar with having people talk behind his back without even bothering to be secretive about it, and the memory left a sour taste in his mouth.

He lifted his tart to cover his mouth and muttered, “They’re treating you like an idol.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Akechi replied in the same tone of voice, and he took another bite of his cornet. “Anyway,” he spoke up, projecting his voice a bit more than before, “What will you be up to this afternoon, Akira-kun?”

He crossed his legs and nudged Akira with his shoulder, looking at him with rapt attention, and again Akira felt himself falter. Damn, he was so out of his element here; while Akechi knew how to behave in front of an audience, most of Akira’s life had been spent trying to avoid attention, not encourage it.

“I, uh…” he felt his mind going blank, and after Akechi had given him such a good set-up, too. What even was he going to do this afternoon, anyway? “Boss said he’d teach me how to make his curry sometime soon, so hopefully that… I guess,” Akira said.

“Oh? How delightful; his curry is truly superb,” Akechi said. “You’ll have to cook for me once you know how.”

“Yeah,” Akira nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

Their conversation continued along those lines, with Akechi attempting to work with Akira’s stilted responses, until five excruciating minutes had passed, at which point Akechi abruptly stood up, brushing some stray crumbs off his lap.

“Well, I ought to be going now if I don’t want to be late for work,” he said. “Thank you for the cornet, Akira. It was delicious.”

Akira could feel the eyes on him, not just from their audience but from Akechi as well, who was staring down at Akira with a look much like the one he’d given him at the train station… right before he’d kissed him.

“Wait,” Akira said, suddenly jumping to his feet. It was his turn to act, right? He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, not when they were being watched. So he took a hasty step forward and grabbed Akechi by the collar, pulling him into a sloppy kiss just a little too quickly; their mouths crashed together painfully, Akechi’s teeth catching on Akira’s lip. It hurt, but it probably wasn’t enough to break the skin… probably. Then he released Akechi from his grasp and let his hands drop unceremoniously to his side.

“U-um… bye,” he finished. Internally, he winced. Smooth, Akira. Very smooth.

“Goodbye, Akira,” Akechi replied with a tight smile, and Akira thought he could easily read the look in his eyes: Well, at least you tried. Nonetheless, Akira could hear a surprised and delighted squeal from their audience.

With that, Akechi turned his back on Akira and left, headed off towards the police station. Akira quickly made his exit as well; he didn’t want to stick around and risk getting ambushed by Akechi’s fangirls, so he made his way to the train station, eager to return home. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, trying to settle the anxious knot in his gut, which he was sure was from the colossal embarrassment he’d just experienced and not the sugary lump in his otherwise-empty stomach.

…well, maybe it was a little of both.

What was the phrase again? “Any publicity is good publicity”? Akira tried to rationalize his behavior that way, and it wasn’t like they were doing this to get a positive reaction, anyway. Besides, they had been doing fine before Akira noticed they were being watched… hadn’t they?

Standing on the train, Akira replayed the date in his mind to try and see what he could do better next time, but every time he did, he found himself getting hung up on the memory of Akechi’s tongue darting out to lick away the cream from his cornet and he couldn’t remember anything afterwards. A ray of sunlight streamed in through the train window, and he suddenly felt too warm in his coat.

The next day Akira took for himself: no work, no dates. They were four days into their façade, and Akira thought he was doing pretty well, all things considered. Admittedly, he didn’t exactly know how Akechi’s fan base was reacting to his sudden relationship; aside from Ann, who enjoyed using social media, and Futaba, who was an insatiable information-hound, this wasn’t something his friends would care about, and he thought he was probably better off not knowing what sorts of things were being written about him online, so he didn’t look.

He was spending his afternoon curled up in one of Leblanc’s booths, casually sipping on a cup of coffee and looking over a textbook with lackadaisical disinterest. It was something he had bought with the idea that he could prepare for university entrance exams and maybe pick up his schooling again, but his heart really wasn’t in it, and he’d barely cracked it open as a result.

It had been a fairly busy afternoon for Leblanc, with customers coming and going at regular enough intervals that Akira had spent more time people-watching than reading the book in front of him. He managed to finish a page, and right as he moved on to the next, the front door chimed and his attention was once again drawn away from his studies. Most of the customers today had been older residents of Yongen-Jaya, no one of particular interest to Akira, but this time he instantly perked up, because Akechi was here.

“Ah, welcome,” Sojiro said.

“Good afternoon, Boss,” Akechi said, nodding politely to Sojiro.

Akira glanced at his phone to see if he’d missed a text or anything, but no; this was a completely unannounced Akechi-visit, and that made him a little nervous. Usually it was a pleasant surprise when Akechi showed up on an irregular day… he wasn’t sure what made today different. He felt himself shiver as Akechi scanned the café, his eyes eventually falling on Akira, at which point he made a beeline for him with an intense expression on his face: obviously not happy, but not quite angry, either, and when he reached Akira’s booth, he took a breath, closed his eyes, and said, very seriously,

“This isn’t going to work.”

Akira balked.

“What?” he asked, and then he lowered his voice a little, not wanting to attract Sojiro’s undue attention. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Not the plan,” Akechi said, waving his hand. “I mean… what happened the other day. No one’s going to believe us if you make a fool of yourself every time we’re in public.”

“I am a fool,” Akira mused. “Was I that bad, though?”

“No, not really,” Akechi said, and with a sigh, he set his attaché case down on the table. “But we’re lucky those girls were fairly young, and that they weren’t able to see us particularly well – they wouldn’t have been able to notice such subtle details – but we’re going to be under much greater scrutiny next week.”

“Ah, right,” Akira said.

Akechi’s tone softened when he asked, “You’re sure you aren’t uncomfortable with this?”

Discomfort… was that what he was feeling? Akira wasn’t exactly sure. He had no real problem with the concept of dating Akechi; it just wasn’t something he’d ever considered before. Oh, he’d noticed Akechi was attractive – you’d have to be blind not to – but for so long their relationship had been that of customer and employee, and the idea of hitting on a customer was so awkward to him that the thought of asking him out had never even crossed his mind.

“I’m just getting used to it,” Akira decided to say. A bit of an evasive answer, but Akechi seemed to accept it. “Sorry. I’ll do better.”

Akechi nodded and his expression brightened, like that had been the answer he was looking for. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

“No… go ahead,” Akira said, shuffling over to make room while Akechi stepped away to retrieve his usual coffee, which Sojiro had preemptively started to prepare right after Akechi arrived. Once he had his beverage, Akechi returned, and though it was a very roomy booth, he slid over until he was pressed right against Akira’s side, so close their thighs were touching.

Seemingly satisfied with this arrangement, Akechi clicked open his attaché case and pulled out a few papers – not, Akira noted, something from work, but notes from school – and Akira realized Akechi intended for them to study together in the semi-public setting of Leblanc. But pressed up close on the same side of a booth seat would make it difficult for them to write without bumping into each other, and Akira nearly said as much, until he realized that Akechi was left-handed and had strategically situated himself on Akira’s left so that they wouldn’t get in each other’s way at all. He’d really thought of everything.

Resigned to his new fate, Akira returned to his study book and figured he’d make an attempt at reading it, but not five minutes had passed before he felt the distinct sensation of being watched. He glanced to his side, only to find Akechi staring at him, and when he realized he’d garnered Akira’s attention, his hand suddenly shot out. He seized Akira by the chin and proceeded to tilt his head first up, then down, and to both sides, all the while staring intently at him and frowning.

“Ake– ah, Goro?” Akira asked. “What are you doing?”

“You have no stage presence,” Akechi chided, and let go of Akira’s face.

“We’re… not on stage?” Akira pointed out.

“But we are acting.”

Akira pursed his lips. “Right,” he said.

“You can consider this practice,” Akechi said. Then he leaned close and whispered directly to Akira, “Don’t worry. Out of respect for Sojiro-san and his customers, I won’t make you kiss me here.”

Akira flushed scarlet.

Laughing, Akechi pulled away and allowed Akira some personal space again. “You see? This is what I mean.”

“Sorry,” Akira said again. “Anyway, what’s wrong with acting shy? Maybe…” he tilted his body away and glanced back at Akechi from over his shoulder, his eyelashes fluttering behind his glasses. “Maybe I’ve been smitten with you for so long that I can hardly believe this is really happening. Who wouldn’t be shy?”

From the look on Akechi’s face, eyes wide and lips parted on a reply that got stuck in his throat, Akira must have taken him by surprise. Finally, he thought, a minor victory.

But Akechi recovered quickly.

“Perhaps,” he said. He rested his chin in his hand and smiled, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Ah, I suppose you have a point. There’s a certain appeal to having you as my blushing beau.”

Annnd he’d been one-up’d again. Damn this charismatic detective and his endless supply of charm, Akira thought as a flush came to his cheeks. Akechi laughed gently, and Akira hid his face, grumbling in embarrassment.

“All right, all right, I’m done now. I promise,” Akechi said, and to Akira's immense relief, he changed the subject. “What are you looking at?” he asked instead, gesturing towards Akira’s book, which Akira held up for him to read. “Ah, I see. Then do you have an interest in attending university sometime?”

Akira shrugged. “I barely graduated high school, and that was a few years ago,” he said.

“But that wasn’t due to academics, correct?” Akechi asked. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice, if I recall correctly. It was… disciplinary issues, was it not?”

Akira grimaced, but nodded. The things he’d told Akechi about his history were all very surface-level details, and he wasn’t sure if this was the right time to go into any more depth. “Still, it’s just… it’s been a while,” he said, opting to sidestep the issue. “Are you enjoying it? Going to university, I mean.”

“It’s fine, I suppose. I was adopted fairly late into my high school years, you know,” Akechi said. Like Akira’s past, this was a topic the two of them had touched on only briefly. “Doing well in school was one of the few things I could do to make myself seem more appealing to foster families… not that it did me much good. But it was all I had until I got my job.

“Oh, but that’s not to say I don’t enjoy learning. I do, truly,” he added when he saw Akira frown. “I simply wish I could do it because I want to, not because it’s expected of me,” and Akira thought he understood.

Their afternoon passed in relative calm, and Akira found he was indeed getting more comfortable being seen so close to Akechi, and after an hour or so, he stopped flinching every time the front door opened. Even Sojiro’s occasional curious glances weren’t bothering him anymore.

When the sky began to grow dark, Akechi finally set his notes aside and stretched his arms over his head.

“It seems I lost track of time… I didn’t intend to stay here so long,” he said.

“You know it’s fine,” Akira said. “Even more so today, since I’m not working… it means you aren’t eating up all my attention when I should be tending to customers,” and at this, Akechi giggled and smiled.

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” Akechi suggested as he gathered up his things. “We don’t have to go anywhere… we can just walk around, be seen.”

“Yeah,” Akira said, nodding. “Okay. I’ll be ready this time.”

“I know you will,” Akechi said. “Still, I’ll look forward to it.”

Akechi returned his empty mug to Sojiro, gave Akira a final wave goodbye, and then he was gone, and Akira was suddenly struck by how quiet Leblanc seemed without him.

They decided to meet over Akechi’s lunch break, a time which Akira conveniently had off as well, and they were just on their way back to the station after an aimless walk around a nearby park when Akechi suddenly went stiff and still.

“We need to cross the street,” he said, and his grasp on Akira’s hand turned vice-like as he tugged urgently, trying to drag Akira sharply to the left.

“Ow,” Akira muttered, flexing his hand. “What? Why?” He couldn’t see anything ahead of them that would impede their path. “We’re practically back to the station…”

“Please,” Akechi said, his voice going soft.

“Akechi-kun? Is that you?”

Akechi froze in place as the owner of that voice – a tall, silver-haired woman – appeared in front of them.

“Um! S-Sae-san!” Akechi exclaimed. “What a coincidence running into you like this!”

Sae? Ah, this was Makoto’s sister. Akira didn’t know her well, and had really only spoken to her a few times, but he remembered that she and Akechi knew each other – the first time Akechi had visited Leblanc, he had been accompanying Sae. As a prosecutor, she must have been something like a co-worker of Akechi’s.

“And Akira-kun, too,” Sae added. Her attention briefly flicked down to Akechi and Akira’s interlaced hands. “I didn’t know the two of you were… close,” she said slowly.

“Oh, yes, aha ha, well… I prefer to keep my private life separate from my working life, you know,” Akechi said.

Oh my god, it suddenly clicked in Akira’s mind, he’s embarrassed. Sae was someone Akechi respected, so to be caught like this… It was like how Akira had felt talking to Ann, except this time it was face-to-face.

“Of course,” Sae said, with a sort of knowing smile on her face. “I’m simply surprised… I like to think I know you rather well, Akechi-kun.”

Akechi laughed and tightened his death grip on Akira’s hand, and Akira knew what he had to do.

“Ah, Niijima-san,” he spoke up, grabbing both Sae and Akechi’s attention. “You’re the one who first brought Goro to Leblanc, right? …that’s how we met. So really, I have you to thank… for bringing Goro into my life,” Akira finished, turning away and shyly toying with a tuft of hair.

This took Sae by surprise, but whether it was the direct implication of herself as matchmaker or the intimacy with which Akira addressed Akechi, he couldn’t be sure.

“I… I suppose you could say that!” she said, and Akira noticed that she and Makoto shared that trait: their voices tended to get squeaky when they were nervous. She cleared her throat. “At any rate, I’m sorry to intrude. I’ll be going now… oh, and Akechi-kun, I left something on your desk – will you be able to get to it this afternoon?”

“Certainly, not a problem,” Akechi said. “I'll get to it right away, Sae-san. Thank you.”

Akira could feel Akechi relax once Sae was out of sight.

“Thank you for that, Akira,” Akechi said. He laughed weakly. “I – I must seem like a hypocrite now, don’t I? After scolding you for acting awkward in public, for me to freeze up so suddenly…”

“It’s cool,” Akira said. “We’ve got each other’s backs, right?”

“…yes, that's right,” Akechi said, and he smiled in a way Akira had never seen before, a look that softened his eyes and transformed his features, taking him from merely attractive to heart-stopping, and Akira felt his heartbeat double instantly. Then Akechi leaned in and brought their foreheads together, so close that their noses touched, so close that he could easily bring his lips forward and give Akira a kiss. By now Akira was getting better at anticipating Akechi’s displays of affection, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss, hoping he looked natural, hoping Akechi couldn’t feel his hands shaking.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Akechi said once they had parted. “Besides, I don’t know if I’ll be expected to work late tonight… it’s a distinct possibility, given what Sae-san said… I’ll keep you updated, okay?”

Akira simply nodded and let him go, standing in place and watching until Akechi had made it into the police station. He felt jittery and restless and he walked the whole way back to Leblanc instead of taking the train, just hoping to burn off some of this extra energy; he even convinced Sojiro to let him take over the café for the evening to give himself something to do. It wasn’t until he was lying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling above him, that he allowed his mind to wander back to the events of the day, to Akechi.

The memory of their parting kiss replayed itself in Akira’s mind, so vivid that he could practically feel Akechi’s lips on his, and his stomach flipped uncomfortably. He sat up, drawing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Okay. So. Maybe he was enjoying this whole arrangement a little more than he needed to. Who could blame him? No one could deny that Akechi was attractive, and who wouldn’t get a little nervous when they had the chance to kiss an attractive friend, right?

And just because Akira looked forward to work most often on the days he knew Akechi would be there, well… most of their customers were older folks. Akechi was one of the few customers his age. It couldn’t be helped… it couldn’t be helped.

He didn’t need to read so much into it.

Rather, he needed to stop reading so much into it, if he wanted to survive the rest of the week.

Chapter Text

There was something in the air, Akira decided, some sweet scent carried in by the light autumn wind that made the next few days drip by honey-slow, that made it easy to forget why they were doing this in the first place.

They had less than a week to go now. Akechi claimed that he was keeping tabs on his online presence and seemed pleased with their progress thus far, although he added that he hadn’t heard a thing from his father. For Akira, though, the party seemed like nothing more than a distant possibility; it would happen, sure, but it wasn’t happening now, and Akira found himself very interested in living in the present all of a sudden.

At this point, they probably didn’t need to keep spending all of their afternoons together. With such limited time, the moderate buzz that Shibuya-local tabloid blogs had already produced would probably suffice – Akechi speculated the information had already reached his father, even abroad – but it turned out Akechi had a flair for the dramatic, and he planned to draw out their little performance for as long as he could.

And what was Akira going to do, stop him? No; he was enjoying himself far too much.

There was one afternoon when Akechi insisted Akira meet him outside the police station after his shift was over so they could walk to Leblanc together, but they got distracted and ended up stopping at an open-air café for dinner, chatting and watching the world go by until the sun had set. On another evening, Akira managed to drag Akechi to the movies with him, not because he wanted to see any particular movie, but just because he could.

“It’s not about being inside the theater, it’s about the coming and going,” Akira had explained when Akechi questioned what good it would do their visibility to sit in a dark room for two hours. “We could just walk inside, wait ten minutes for the crowd to change, and then walk out, and bam. Instant date.”

(and while they did end up watching a movie, they also walked in and out a few times, because the idea made Akechi laugh so brightly that Akira couldn’t resist)

They even took a walk past the Diet Building, just for kicks. Akira stopped Akechi before they crossed the street and took him by the hand, giving a sweeping bow and pressing a kiss against the back of his gloved fingers, an action that definitely turned a few heads and one that left Akira and Akechi both with a dusty pink blush on their cheeks as they continued on their walk. He later learned that someone had caught that moment on camera, because when he got home that night, Futaba had sent him not one, but two pictures of that kiss, taken from two different angles, and she wouldn’t stop spamming his phone until he fed her a story similar to the one he’d given Ann.

It was impossible to ignore the party forever, though. A mere three days before the event, as Akira was winding down an evening shift at Leblanc, Akechi texted him:

>>Goro Akechi: Ah, regarding this weekend…
>>Goro Akechi: You may want to procure a suit, if you don’t have one.
>>Goro Akechi: The dress code will be very formal.

>>Akira Kurusu: Suit. Got it.
>>Akira Kurusu: Am I going to be expected to know who the guests are?

>>Goro Akechi: Oh, absolutely you’ll be expected to.
>>Goro Akechi: But having you utterly ignorant of the guests will work in our favor.

Akira couldn’t see the look on Akechi’s face, but he thought he could imagine it pretty well.

>>Goro Akechi: If you’d prefer, though, I can send you the invitation
>>Goro Akechi: and I’ll try to procure a list of confirmed attendees.

>>Akira Kurusu: Would you?
>>Akira Kurusu: I can still pretend not to know anything, if you want.

>>Goro Akechi: Haha, as you wish.
>>Goro Akechi: I’ll send you the information before the night is over.

Akira smiled faintly and pocketed his phone. It was hard to believe two weeks were nearly over already, and that after this weekend, things would go back to normal… He wiped some stray coffee grounds off the counter and wondered if that would really happen or if, like a broken vase that had been mended, with all its visible cracks, things would never be quite the same again.

His mind wandered until the sudden sound of Leblanc’s door chime jolted him from his thoughts. It wasn’t often that customers arrived so close to closing time, but it did happen on occasion and he was well prepared to deal with it, until he got a good look at the person who stepped through the door.

“Makoto,” Akira said, setting down his cleaning rag and smiling warmly. “This is a surprise.”

Out of all his friends from high school, Makoto was perhaps the most busy, and though she was well on her way to becoming a police commissioner, she still hardly had the time to visit Leblanc anymore – it was just too far out of her way. So the fact that she was here tonight at all was surprising, even more so when Akira took a moment to look her over. With the light winter coat and neatly pressed slacks she wore, plus the loose bun into which her hair had been pulled, she must have come straight from work.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Makoto asked, returning his smile, but as was her way, she did not seem interested in mincing words. She strode through the café until she was standing across from Akira, and then she clasped her hands together tightly.

“So!” she chirped, her voice unnaturally high and squeaky. “I hear you’re dating Akechi-kun.”

Ah, of course that was what this was about. Akira let the question sit for a moment, looking away from Makoto and through the window beside Leblanc’s door. Outside it was dark and cold, and in the silence, he could hear the wind whistling through the alleyway.

“You heard right,” he finally said. “Did Sae tell you?”

Makoto looked briefly like a deer caught in the headlights – Sae no doubt mentioned that this information was to be kept secret. “Maybe. Look, that’s not–” she sighed, raising a hand to her temple. “Far be it from me to tell you who you can and can’t date, Akira, but… you… you do know who Akechi’s dad is, right?”

That was not, admittedly, the direction Akira had thought Makoto was going with her question, and he shrugged. “I know he’s dirt, and that’s about it. Goro doesn’t like him, so neither do I,” he said simply.

“But you don’t know who he is. You don’t know his name?” Makoto pressed him.

“Sure,” Akira said. “It’s…” but then he stopped. Now that he thought about it, had Akechi ever mentioned his father’s name? It had never seemed important to ask. “…I guess I don’t know. But what does it matter?”

Makoto didn’t reply; she had her phone out, her thumbs flying over the touchscreen as she searched for… something. Then, without saying a word, she turned her phone screen-side out towards Akira so he could see the picture she had pulled up, and now it was Akira’s turn to frown.

Admittedly, he had never really paid much attention when Goro talked about his father, but he knew now that Akechi had definitely, definitely never spoken his name aloud, because there was no way Akira would mistake it, and if Akira had known that Akechi’s father was the man who had all but ruined Akira’s young life, he never would have agreed to this stupid plan in the first plan.

“That can’t be right,” Akira said. “They don’t even have the same… last name…”

But hadn’t Akechi also mentioned that he was adopted?

“It’s definitely him,” Makoto said. She pulled her phone back and returned it to her purse. “Sis works with Akechi-kun, and she’s the one who told me. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but…”

“You’re sure?” Akira asked, but it wasn’t a question from the way Makoto was looking at him.

“I’m sure,” she said. “It – it doesn’t have to be the end of the world,” she added, holding her hands up. “If Akechi-kun dislikes him as well…” When Akira didn’t say anything, she trailed off and dropped her hands to her side. “I’m sorry. It just seemed wrong not to tell you.”

“No, thank you,” Akira said. He leaned forward, bracing himself on the counter. “I’m… it’s better to know.”

Makoto nodded slowly. “You probably need to think about this, and I know it's past closing time, so I… I’ll go now,” she said. “I’m sorry this wasn’t a more friendly meeting… it really has been too long.”

“We’ll make the time soon, okay?” Akira said. “Promise.”

“Yes,” Makoto said, and while she gave him another smile, it never reached her eyes. So Akira stepped from behind the counter and walked her to the door, and they shared a brief parting hug before she departed. When she was completely out of sight, Akira flipped the store sign to closed and locked up.

It was only after he had clicked off the last of Leblanc’s lights and had retired to the attic that he realized he had missed an e-mail from Akechi.

Here are the details about the guest list, as you requested, as well as the official invitation.
If you want to know anything else, just ask, all right?

Akechi

Akira hoped, impossible as it was, than opening the invitation would assuage his fears – hoped that Makoto had been mistaken, and Akechi’s father would turn out to be some no-name politician, and that Akira would be able to look back on this and laugh. And yet, Masayoshi Shido’s portrait was staring him plain in the face, and Akira couldn’t ignore it.

He kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto his bed.

Should he just call the whole thing off? When Akechi had suggested this plan, Akira had thought it would be a petty revenge scheme and nothing more – something that might get Akechi in trouble with his father, but that ultimately would have been harmless. But now, knowing what he knew, knowing what kind of person they were pranking, Akira wasn’t sure he could through with it.

They were so close, though, the party only days away, and he would hate to have wasted Akechi’s time so thoroughly… and he couldn’t deny that a part of him was downright gleeful at the news – two years ago, he would have leapt at the chance to pull something like this on Shido (if not something worse), but now… now he just felt a mess of jumbled thoughts and emotions, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sort them out before their deadline arrived. But he had to do something. He only had three days.

Pulling out his phone, he did the only thing he could think of.

>>Akira Kurusu: Ann, do you know where I can buy a nice suit?

Ann was absolutely over the moon at the prospect of taking Akira suit shopping, and she made time in her schedule to meet him the very next day, bright and early, just a few hours after the department stores had opened for the day. The whole way there she peppered him with questions: did he want something more modern or something classic, what colors would he like to wear, did he have a specific brand in mind already, and Akira felt tongue-tied just trying to answer. He hadn’t slept well the night before as it was, and he knew next to nothing about fashion.

His lack of answers did not seem to deter Ann, however, and once they arrived in Shibuya, she immediately seized his arm and pulled him into a store Akira had never even contemplated visiting before. It was starkly decorated, from its pristine white tiled floor to the spotless walls, and even the room itself was notably bare; the only suits on the show floor were modeled on mannequins.

They were nice looking suits, though, Akira had to admit that. While Ann scoped out the selection, Akira approached the suit closest to him and casually glanced at the price tag, which caused him to physically recoil like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Please tell me this is a typo, Ann,” Akira said, holding out the ¥200,000 tag. “They added an extra zero, right?”

Ann laughed. “Sorry, Akira. A nice suit is an investment. Besides… if you’re going to keep dating Goro-kun, won’t this kind of situation keep happening? It’ll be good to buy a tailored suit, right?”

Right… but that wasn’t right at all. The reality of it was that after this week, Akira and Goro would go back to being friends and nothing more, and then Akira would be stuck with a several-hundred-thousand yen reminder of That Time He Took Things Too Seriously.

Suddenly, Akira felt very ill.

Ann walked over to him and waved her hand in front of his face. “Akira? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Akira said quickly. He glanced behind Ann and noticed the store clerk giving them an odd look. “Um… I need to think about this. Can we come back later?” he asked.

“Are you sure? We just got here…”

“Let’s just go get a snack,” Akira said. “I’ll pay.”

“You don’t have to bribe me, you know,” Ann said, giving him a light punch on the arm. Still, she relented and let Akira lead her out of the store and back into Shibuya station, right to what Akira knew was Ann’s favorite crepe store. He bought a chocolate crepe for Ann and a small vanilla thing for himself, too, though he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry.

Once they had sat down but before either of them had taken a single bite, Ann turned to look him dead in the eye and said, “Akira, tell me what’s wrong.” Akira kept quiet, and she added: “Look, is this about the price? Because we can totally start with something lower-end. I just thought you’d want to get something quality, y’know, something that’ll last.”

“It’s not about the price,” Akira said. “I mean. I don’t have 200k to drop on a suit right now, but it’s not that.”

Ann scuffed her heels on the floor and looked away. “I won’t make you tell me. But you can tell me anything… you know that, right?” she asked, and her voice was much more gentle now, carrying an unspoken plea to confide in her.

It would be so easy, Akira thought, to just tell Ann everything right now, and in that moment, he desperately wanted to. She was one of the first friends he made when he transferred to Shujin, and they’d been through some hell together. She would listen, even if he sounded ridiculous… she wouldn’t even laugh. Akira was certain.

“You won’t spread this around. Right?” Akira asked. Ann’s eyebrows shot up and she nodded quickly. “I’m not actually dating Akechi,” he admitted.

“Eh?” Ann tilted her head in disbelief. “But the picture… and you told me so. Did you break up?”

Akira shook his head. “No, I mean we never were. It’s just pretend – to mess with his dad and his public image.”

“Huh…” Ann paused to take a thoughtful bite of her crepe. “Okay, I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to spend so much on a suit then,” she said, and laughed lightly. She was looking right at Akira, though, trying to read his mood, and see if the joke landed with him. Akira couldn’t even bring himself to give her a pity smile.

“…that’s not it, huh,” Ann said.

Akira pulled up the digital invitation Akechi had sent him and slid his phone across the table to Ann.

“That’s his dad,” he said.

Ann stared at the invitation and immediately grimaced. “Wow. You really hit the jackpot, huh?” she asked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Akira muttered, and with that, the whole story came tumbling out. He told her about Akechi’s plan and why he wanted to do it, and about how he had said yes thinking it was just harmless fun. He told her that he didn’t know what kind of person they’d be taunting until just last night, and now it was too late to call things off. He couldn’t – it would devastate Akechi – but at the same time, he couldn’t not say anything… because what if Shido’s litigious temper had only gotten worse with age? What if he recognized Akira, even so many years later…?

As Akira trailed off, Ann’s eyes suddenly went wide.

“Oh my god,” she said, “you’re crushing for real.”

Akira’s face went hot. He had been doing a pretty good job of staying in denial, honestly, of rationalizing his own thoughts to himself and explaining away every flutter in his stomach or skip of his heart when he was around Akechi, but there was always going to be someone to drag him back to reality.

“W-what exactly from my story made you think that?” he asked.

“Because otherwise you wouldn’t care about telling him. And besides, it wasn’t really your story, it was your face,” Ann said. She waved her crepe at him accusingly. “So, am I wrong?”

Akira sighed and took a large bite of his crepe, but as he chewed, he found it had no taste. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he simply shook his head.

“Aww, Akira,” Ann said, and she rubbed his shoulder gently.

They stayed like that for a little while, Akira nibbling listlessly on his crepe and Ann trying to soothe him, but Akira didn't have the stomach for sweets anymore. He got up to throw away the remnants of his snack, and when he returned, Ann's eyebrows were knit together and she was scrolling through her phone with a determined gaze.

“Heyyyy, Akira?” Ann asked once he sat back down. “How tall are you again?”

The question was so unexpected that Akira actually had to think about it before he could answer. “Like… 175, I guess?” he said. “Maybe 177…”

“Which one? And what about your waist?”

“I – I don’t know, Ann,” Akira said.

Ann clicked her tongue. “I… think there might be a guy at my modeling agency that’s about your size,” she said. “Which means there’s a 98% chance I could get you a loaner suit, if you only need it for a day.”

“Seriously? How… how much?” Akira asked. The image of that ¥200,000 price tag was still seared into his memory.

“For free, dummy!” Ann said. “I’ll bring it to you tomorrow after work, okay? We’ll have to make sure it fits and everything, but I’ll definitely get you something to wear.”

“Okay,” Akira said again, getting to his feet, and he was surprised to find his shoulders felt a bit lighter now. “That's - incredible. Thanks, Ann.”

“I am incredible,” Ann agreed with a grin. Then her expression shifted, and she added, “But you HAVE to tell him. That’s the stipulation for borrowing a suit, okay?”

“Okay,” Akira said again. “I’ll try.”

“You will,” Ann said firmly. “I know you will.”

Akira wished he had the same conviction, but maybe Ann's belief would be enough for them both.

But before Akira could even think of telling Goro anything else, he needed to tell him about his history with Shido, and Akira wasn’t sure which would be worse. He agonized all afternoon before finally deciding to take the “throwing a man into deep water to teach him to swim” route, quickly typing up a message and sending it before he had a change to overthink it:

>>Akira Kurusu: Do you want to come over to Leblanc tonight? I’m working closing shift and I’d enjoy the company.

There. Now that it was sent, he couldn’t take it back; he would have no choice but to move forward. It was only after he’d already hit send that he realized he didn’t have a back-up plan in case Akechi said no, not tonight. Would he just have to insist?  He barely had the momentum to keep going after his chat with Ann. If he had to wait until tomorrow, Akira wasn’t sure he could make it happen…

Luckily, it wouldn’t end up being a problem, as Goro’s reply came an uncharacteristic 15 minutes later.

>>Goro Akechi: I’d be happy to.
>>Goro Akechi: I apologize for the delay; I was in a meeting.
>>Goro Akechi: I’ll be there soon.

He wasn't lying; it was less than a half-hour later that Akechi was walking through the front door, glancing around the café before making his way to his usual spot at the counter. They didn’t really need to act like a couple in Leblanc of all places – who were they supposed to be fooling, Sojiro? Sojiro wasn't even here right now – but Akechi seemed content to keep up the ruse at all times.

He didn't say hello, opting instead to greet Akira with a warm smile and a look in his eyes that felt more intimate than any kiss they’d shared before. Akira swallowed hard and turned to start a cup of coffee for him.

Only two more hours until closing.

At precisely 9:30pm, Akira flipped the sign on Leblanc’s door from open to closed and locked up. He paused there for a moment, taking a deep breath as he stood with his back to Akechi. Maybe things would be fine, maybe he was overreacting… maybe he didn't have to say anything at all.

But he knew that was naïve thinking. No, he had to do this. And it had to be now.

He stepped back behind the counter before he turned to face Akechi, though, because he thought maybe it would be easier that way, almost like things were back to the way they used to be.

“Goro,” Akira said. It was the first thing he'd said to Akechi all evening. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Akechi asked. He set down the book he was reading and gave Akira his full attention, the concern obvious on his face.

Great, Akira thought. Twist that knife a little deeper, why don’t you. He tried his best to look Akechi in the eyes and said, “I can’t be your date any more. I’m sorry.”

Akechi’s mouth parted in shock before he could mask the expression completely.

“…did I do something to upset you?” he asked.

“No!” Akira exclaimed. “No, it’s not you. It’s… shit,” he sighed, running a hand through his bangs and gripping his hair tightly, pulling on his scalp. “I told you about what happened to me in high school, right? How I was framed for assaulting someone?”

Akechi nodded.

“The one who made the report – the one I hurt – it was him. Shido.”

The words hung in the air, and Akira waited for Akechi to process them. It had been easier than he thought it would be; instead, he hadn’t anticipated just how agonizing the next few seconds would be.

“I see,” Akechi said slowly.

“I’m not some faceless nobody to him,” Akira said, and suddenly he couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “I don’t know if he still holds a grudge, but he was relentless back then. I can’t… if I went as your date and he recognized me, it’d mean hell for you.”

“…For me,” Akechi repeated. “I’m the one you’re worrying about?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Akira-kun,” Akechi said, leaning forward over the countertop and clasping Akira’s hand with both of his own, “you don’t need to worry about me. Frankly, that you have a negative history with my father just makes you all the more appealing as a date,” he said, giving Akira a very brief, wry grin. “If you don’t wish to put yourself in a position where you may encounter Shido, however… I couldn’t fault you for that. If you’re uncomfortable, I won’t make you attend.”

“What? No, I don’t care about what he’d do to me,” Akira said. “You don’t think he’d try to… I don’t know, punish you?”

Akechi laughed. “Oh, perhaps. But there’s only so much he can do without disturbing his public image. And besides, I have dealt with my father’s temper for many years now. I have strategies for managing his outbursts.”

“So… you don’t mind?” Akira asked, and Akechi slowly retracted his hands and returned to his seat.

“Of course not,” Akechi said. “If anything, I hope you’re not upset with me. I was remiss in not telling you my father’s identity earlier… forgive me; it’s not something I like to dwell on.”

“I was pretty surprised when I found out,” Akira said. “Since your names are so different.”

“Ah, that,” Akechi said.

From his tight posture and sharp enunciation, this definitely wasn’t a topic Akechi was interested in discussing, and ordinarily, Akira wouldn’t have pushed it. But considering Akira’s own past with the man… and Akechi must have thought the same thing, because after he took a steadying breath, he kept talking.

“The way I've pieced things together is thus: My mother was able to run away before revealing she was pregnant by him, and had me in secret. It was only by chance that she died and I entered the foster system. I tracked him down just before I aged out,” Akechi explained. “At the time, I guess I’d hoped to find… I don’t know. A real family, I suppose. But my mother had the right idea, staying away from him.”

There was venom in his voice now, and it only grew stronger as he continued.

“He didn’t believe me at first, when I told him who I was,” Akechi said. He picked up his coffee and swirled the dregs around, staring into the mug as he spoke. “And why should he? I was no one, and he was well into his political career; surely I was just an orphan looking to mooch off of a wealthy politician… but he must have looked into it and realized I was telling the truth, because he took me in after that. However, he wouldn't let me take his last name. I suppose I’m more useful to him as an adopted orphan… A bastard child wouldn’t reflect his magnanimous nature.”

Akechi made a noise that would have been a laugh if he had seemed in any way amused. “I should take you to my apartment sometime. You wouldn’t believe it… it’s huge, and the location is incredible. It’s something I’d never be able to afford on my own… but you see, I don’t pay rent. The apartment… it’s his. It was fully furnished when I arrived – there were even clothes in the closet. He’s paying for my university as well… he won’t let me do otherwise.

“To anyone else, he must seem like an incredibly doting father, to give me such gifts, but it’s nothing of the sort. I’m smart enough to see that now. If he were to cut me off, I would have no way of paying for the expenses I would accrue. I’m utterly financially dependent on him. It’s something I never should have accepted, but when I was 16, I thought… but even at the time it seemed too good to be true.”

He sighed and traced his finger idly around the rim of his coffee mug. “My only saving grace is that Shido is ignorant of my salary. Without expenses like rent or tuition, I’ve been able to save up quite a sum – in my own private bank account, of course. Once I graduate, I plan to cut him out of my life forever. Until then, however… I can do little to oppose him. It would not be an exaggeration to say my life is hardly mine to live.”

“So that’s why,” Akira said, and Akechi nodded.

“I know I should just be patient, but… Akira, you have no idea. He’s vile.”

A heavy silence settled around the café.

“I believe you,” Akira said.

“Ah, yes… I suppose you would know,” Akechi said. “I remember you told me about your conviction, and that you were framed, but I never pressed you for further details. Now that I know Shido was involved, I admit I’m curious… if you’d be willing to tell me, that is.”

And after everything Akechi had told him, it was only fair for Akira to do the same.

“Okay,” Akira said. “But let me finish closing up first. And I want to sit in a booth; I’m tired of standing.”

Akechi laughed, but he stood up and made his way to one of the booths against Leblanc’s far wall while Akira finished wiping down the counter. It was too late for coffee, so Akira made himself tea – and a cup for Akechi as well – and once the cups were poured, he slid into the booth beside Akechi and began to tell the tale about the event that put him on the path to delinquency.

He was fifteen and working at a convenience store a few blocks from his home. His parents took a largely hands-off approach to parenting, and Akira found himself bored, so part-time work seemed like the most productive thing to do with his time.

He wasn’t supposed to have been working so late that night. Legally, he was pretty sure his manager wasn’t supposed to keep a minor on the clock past a certain hour. But there had been an emergency with one of his coworkers, and Akira had been available to cover his shift; it just seemed cruel not to lend a hand and help out.

So it was late when he was finally able to head home.

He’d just meant to shove the man, honestly, just to put some space between him and the poor woman he was assaulting. Akira wasn’t strong now and he was even more spindly as a teenager, so he was surprised when the man went stumbling from just Akira’s weak push. His heel had caught on the sidewalk and he’d fallen back, landing solidly, like a cut tree trunk hitting the ground.

There was blood, Akira remembered. Not a lot of blood, but enough. The man had cracked his head against the pavement, or so he claimed. He swore loudly at Akira and immediately dialed the police, ordering his companion to hold Akira down and keep him from running. She did as he asked, and Akira could still vividly remember the intense sense of betrayal that overwhelmed him in that moment.

The months that followed were some of Akira’s worst. His parents were unwilling – or perhaps unable – to fight Shido, who was coming down on Akira with the full power of the law behind him. No one would believe a high school student over a rising political star, and in the end he was put on probation, which his parents found so annoying to deal with that they shipped him off to live with Sojiro for a year instead of taking care of him themselves.

At first, Akira thought it wouldn’t be so bad. His old hometown was small, and news of his sentencing got around quickly. A new start in a new city, at a new school… Shujin probably would have been a saving grace for Akira, if it weren’t for Kamoshida.

He knew, somehow, about Akira’s past. The principal must have known – he couldn’t have accepted Akira into the school without knowing why he was kicked out in the first place – but for a coach to learn such sensitive information… Akira still wasn’t sure exactly what happened, if the principal just blabbed to everyone or if Kamoshida got special treatment, but people found out.

Since everyone kept treating him like a delinquent, Akira decided to… become one. He wasn’t very good at it. He was too shy to bleach his hair (and could hardly imagine himself as a blonde, regardless) and he didn’t have the money for a tattoo, or the connections to find someone who’d ink up a minor, and he didn’t have the heart or the desire to pick fights with anyone. But it wasn’t so bad. There were others who were on Kamoshida’s bad side, and though his reputation preceded him, there were still people who wanted to befriend him.

He skipped a lot, though, and never bothered to do much to disprove the rumors surrounding him, and it was only after he befriended the student council president that he really started to get his act together. If he hadn’t met Makoto, he might not have graduated.

(At this point in the story, Goro laughed a little. “It seems that looking out for people is a Niijima family trait,” he said.)

That was two years ago. After graduation, Akira just never bothered to go back home. Sojiro offered to rent him the attic permanently, and Akira suspected he’d gotten used to having Akira working around Leblanc. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was consistent work and Akira enjoyed it. He enjoyed cooking and talking to customers, and he even enjoyed keeping the store tidy and well-maintained. It was just a little corner of the world he could control to his liking, and it was comfortable. Safe.

By the time he was done with his story, it had grown incredibly late, and Akira could feel the haze of sleep threatening to wash over him. Akechi wasn’t doing much better; midway through the story he had begun to lean against Akira’s side, his head half on the back of the booth seat and half on Akira’s shoulder. Now he was pressed so close that Akira could feel the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing grew steady and calm. It pleased Akira maybe a little more than it should that Akechi could relax so easily sitting beside him.

No, it was more than that – it made his heart swell with pride.

“Thank you for telling me,” Akechi murmured. His voice was soft and just a little drowsy. “To think our lives have been connected for so long, without our knowledge… for us to meet up now, it must be fate. Don’t you think?” he asked.

Akira hummed. He didn’t believe in fate.

He thought he didn’t, anyway.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Akira tilted his head to the side and brought a hand to Akechi’s chin, pulling him into a soft, slow kiss. It felt different this time: every kiss they’d shared until now had been performative, done for the sake of visibility or believability, but here, alone in the café, there was no one to convince; this kiss was selfishly for Akira’s own benefit and nothing else.

There was a distinct moment where Akechi sat still beneath Akira’s touch, and the fear that he had pushed his luck too far caused Akira to back away sooner than he wanted, but then Akechi surged forward, grabbing Akira by the shirt and pulling him back into the kiss. Akira’s stomach dropped and he sucked in a surprised gasp through his nose, his hand flying to to Akechi’s side to hold himself steady. Then the only thing that mattered was the press of Akechi’s lips on his own, and his thoughts turned to pleasant static.

For all his flirty behavior out in public, Akechi’s kiss now was gentle and hesitant, almost nervous. His fingers crept up the side of Akira’s face with feather-light touches that made him seem as if he was afraid that Akira would break beneath his fingertips.

It felt good; it felt right. It felt like home…

Akira didn’t really consider himself a lonely person, but he could get used to this.

Akechi kept his eyes closed even after the kiss was over. There was a lingering smile on his face, not as wide or enthusiastic as the smiles he gave in public, but somehow more honest. It was a smile Akira didn’t think many other people had seen. Then Akechi opened his eyes with a nearly-silent sigh, and the tender expression on his face vanished.

“You’re getting better at this,” he said.

“Well, I have a good mentor,” Akira said.

“Ha, you flatter me,” Akechi said. He rubbed his face and barely held back a yawn. “It is getting late, though. I should retire home for the day, I expect…”

“Do you want me to walk you to the station?” Akira asked.

“That’s okay. I know the way,” Akechi said as he got to his feet. He flashed Akira a tired smile. “Don’t forget to lock up behind me… Boss will have your head if you don't, you know.”

Before Akira could even stand up, Akechi was already at the door, unlocking it with practiced ease and disappearing into the night without so much as a glance backwards.

The door chimed as it shut itself behind Akechi, and Akira tried not to think he’s running away from me, but it was hard.

Chapter Text

Akechi didn’t come by the next day.

Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have been surprising – it wasn’t one of the days he usually visited Leblanc – but there was something disconcerting about his absence this time. Maybe it was because he’d come by nearly every day this past week, or maybe it was because Akira had barely heard from him at all today; in fact, the only contact they’d had was a short text conversation in which Akechi confirmed when they would be meeting up tomorrow (7:30pm; the reception began at 8:00, but they would be arriving a little earlier) and how they would be traveling there (Akechi would hire a taxi and meet Akira in Yongen-Jaya). It was all very businesslike and professional, and it did nothing to help calm Akira’s nerves.

He sighed, taking his coffee mug and draining the remains of his now-cold drink. Tomorrow would be the last day of their ruse, the culmination of all their hard work, so perhaps Akechi was simply preparing for the big day, too busy to talk – but the sinking feeling in the pit of Akira’s stomach told him differently.

“If you keep sighing, I’m going to make you mop the café,” Sojiro informed him after he let out another long breath, which only encouraged Akira to make an exaggerated groan; he was quick enough to anticipate the dish rag that came flying towards him only seconds later, snatching it out of the air before it hit him square in the face. Sojiro huffed, begrudgingly impressed, but still Akira got to his feet, dropping the rag on the counter and grabbing the mop from its hiding spot next to the sink. The simple, mechanical task was good for keeping his jittery limbs occupied, but it was monotonous enough that his mind continued to whir along at high speeds, plagued by unwelcome thoughts.

At least Akira knew that no matter what happened tomorrow, he was going to look good. The suit Ann had found him was gorgeous, and it fit Akira as if it had been tailored specifically for him. It was a fairly classic style – a jet-black jacket and matching slacks, with a white button-down shirt and a crimson vest for color – but it had a modern cut that Akira wore well. It was also easily the most expensive thing he had ever touched. He wondered if he’d even be able to eat anything tomorrow, or if he would be too terrified of spilling something on the suit to do so.

The party… Akira barely kept himself from sighing out loud again. He really wanted to talk to Akechi, if for no other reason than to inquire a little further about what all would be going on at Shido’s banquet, and while it wasn’t that late – Leblanc would be open for another hour at least – and he’d had plenty of text conversations with Akechi that went well into the night, something kept Akira from actually sending that text.

That something was fear – fear that he had gravely, even fatally overstepped his bounds last night, fear that his kiss had been completely unexpected, and perhaps even unwanted. After all, this was simply an act for Akechi – he’d said as much himself – with a clear goal and a clear endpoint, so of course he wouldn’t react well to Akira doing something so forward.

It really shouldn’t have been surprising that he was acting so detached about it now. In fact, it was a good thing – it would make it that much easier to break things off at the end of the night tomorrow.

Yes; really, Akechi was doing him a favor.

He should have been grateful, but instead, Akira just felt sick.

Dressed as nicely as he was, Akira felt notably out of place walking down the streets of Yongen-Jaya the next evening. There weren’t many people out and about, but nonetheless, he could feel a dozen eyes tracking him as he made his way towards the taxi Akechi had hired, which was idling away at the end of the road, keeping his awkward march blessedly short. He jogged the last few feet up to the taxi, and the door opened automatically, allowing Akira to slip inside.

Akechi was already there, of course, sitting on the far side of the backseat and dressed just as nicely as Akira was: his hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and he was wearing a charcoal grey suit with a deep red tie, and Akira almost laughed – it was like they matched on purpose. Once he was seated and the door was closed, Akira turned to greet Akechi properly, only to find the detective wide-eyed and staring at him.

“Goro?” Akira asked.

“Akira!” Akechi exclaimed, suddenly shocked out of his reverie. He cleared his throat and looked away. “You… you look incredible,” he said.

Akira felt his cheeks grow warm, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “You have Ann to thank for that,” he said.

“Aha, is that so?” Akechi asked. “The benefits of befriending a professional model.”

“Yeah,” Akira said, glancing out the window as the taxi started to move. “You look nice, too,” he blurted out. “I, I mean… you always do, so it’s not surprising like me, but… you do.”

“O-oh!” Akechi’s head jerked back around, and Akira saw he was now sporting a light blush. “I mean… thank you, Akira-kun. I’m glad you think so.” He ran his fingers along the edge of his tie, and added, “I almost wore a different tie… I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Yeah, we look insufferable. It’s perfect,” Akira said.

Akechi laughed and leaned back into his seat, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “It will be a short drive, perhaps fifteen minutes, if traffic permits,” he said.

“Sounds good,” Akira said.

The conversation briefly dwindled into an awkward silence, and Akira was desperately searching his mind for something to say when Akechi spoke up again.

“Um…” he began, shifting subtly in his seat. “What do you think of Ann-chan, Akira?” he asked.

“Ann?” That was an odd choice of topic. Akechi wasn’t particularly close with any of Akira’s other friends - he was friendly with them, but not much more than that, and he’d never asked such a direct question about them before. “She’s… she’s great,” Akira said. “One of my best friends from high school. Kinda spacey, but she’s the sort of person who’ll always have your back, if that makes sense.”

“This is… perhaps an overdue question, but the two of you weren’t – aren’t – together, are you?”

Akira nearly choked on his own tongue in his haste to reply.

“What? No – no way,” he said.

“No, of course not,” Akechi immediately agreed. “No, you wouldn’t have accepted my plan otherwise. Of course.”

“No, she, uh… she’s been dating her girlfriend since just after we graduated high school,” Akira explained. “And I’ve been… y’know. Single.”

“I see,” Akechi said. He was wringing his hands together, twisting his fingers back and forth. “I apologize for such an insensitive question. I don’t know what prompted that thought. I suppose I’m just…”

“Nervous?” Akira suggested.

Akechi sighed and shook his head. “Not in particular. To tell the truth, I always get like this before such events.” He looked at Akira curiously. “Does that surprise you?”

Akira paused.

“Maybe it would have before,” he said, “but not anymore.”

It was only a few minutes later that they arrived at their destination, with Akechi pointing out the building from the window once it came into view. The place was bizarre and not at all what Akira would have expected from an orphanage: it was almost austere, with a tall archway made of white marble hanging above the entrance, ushering guests inside – an impressive place, to be sure, but not exactly kid-friendly, Akira thought.

The taxi pulled around to the curb where a few other vehicles were dropping off their guests, and Akira took a steadying breath. It already seemed more crowded than he had been expecting - yeah, Akechi had said this was a big deal, but Akira didn’t have a great frame of reference for this kind of thing, and he certainly wasn’t expecting this. He couldn’t believe Akechi was expected to know the name of every guest… surely, such a feat was impossible.

“I’ve given a little thought as how we should conduct ourselves this evening, but I haven’t come to a solid conclusion,” Akechi said as they departed the vehicle. “What do you think? Should we make a scene?”

It would be easy to throw a completely disruptive fit, something utterly rambunctious and scandalous, but then it would be equally easy to cast blame solely on Akira for such actions – obviously, he was no good for Akechi; Akechi would never have done such things of his own volition.

“No. Let’s kill them with kindness,” Akira said.

“Ha… how very like you.” Akechi smiled and held out his hand. “Well, shall we?”

As he accepted Akechi’s hand, Akira felt himself shiver.

Stop, he chastised himself. This isn’t real… you need to focus.

He had a long night ahead of him.

They intermingled with the other arriving guests, most of whom were traveling as pairs or trios themselves, and all of whom were making their way towards the entrance, where, as they approached the door, Akira could see a man in a perfectly crisp black suit standing in front of a podium. The guests ahead of them produced invitations, handing them off to the door guard before they were waved inside, but when he and Akechi approached, the man simply greeted them with a brief bow and gestured for them to head inside.

Akechi’s grip on his arm was tight as they stepped under the arch and into the building proper. The lobby was of a similarly grandiose scale as the rest of the building, the open floor plan currently dotted with a handful of small tables, which were minimally decorated with bundles of flowers. On the right-hand wall, there were two wide double doors that had been propped open to lead into an even bigger room, the function of which Akira couldn’t tell, though he could hear music playing faintly in the background, floating in from that direction.

Seconds after they stepped into the lobby, a woman carrying a tray of drinks approached and offered them each a glass. Akira sniffed the mystery liquid. It was definitely alcoholic, though he couldn’t tell what it was, exactly – he’d never developed much of a taste for the stuff - but still, it was polite to accept, and he felt like he would blend in a little more naturally with something in his hands.

“Ah, if it isn’t Akechi-kun,” a lofty, feminine voice called out over the general chatter, grabbing both Akira and Akechi’s attention. Try as he might, Akira couldn’t pinpoint the voice’s owner – but Akechi obviously had, and he shot Akira a quick glance before guiding him over to one of the many small tables, around which four people were already gathered. With Akira and Akechi joining, they made a fairly large group.

Akira surveyed the table. He couldn’t be certain, but if he had to guess, these people were socialites and minor politicians, not business owners: There was a thin, spindly man with a receding hairline who was wearing a suit that was too large in the sleeves for him; beside him was a shorter man who was already quite red in the face – he was holding his glass close to his mouth, Akira noted – and then there was a mousy-looking woman in a simple dress, who Akira thought had the face of a bookkeeper – someone who was good with numbers, but not so much with people.

Last was the woman who had addressed Akechi and beckoned them over to this table. She was a bit taller than Akira, though her heels were certainly adding a few inches to her stature, and she wore a long, silver dress with a shawl that had peacock feathers adoring the trim. She looked and smelled like the kind of person who always carried cigarettes, and the hard glint in her eyes said that she’d be smoking right now, if the orphanage weren’t a designated smoke-free building.

“Kato-san,” Akechi said. “How lovely you were able to make it tonight.”

The peacock woman gave him a thin smile and held up her glass in greeting. “So nice to see you. We were just discussing how generous this donation was of Shido-san,” she said. “You must be so proud, Akechi-kun.”

Akira hoped his disgust wouldn’t show on his face.

Akechi, meanwhile, put on a dazzling smile. “Indeed,” he said. “My father is truly the picture of nimiety. I can only hope he will one day find himself surrounded by colleagues of a similar mind to his.”

He said it with such a positive inflection that the others did not bother to note what was said, only how it was said, and then Akechi raised his glass to the red-faced man standing beside him, who eagerly accepted his toast and passed it around the group, distracting them from thinking too hard.

Damn, but he was smooth. Akira raised his glass, clinked with the table, and took a sip of the bitter liquid.

“This should bode well for his election bid, wouldn’t you say?” the thin man asked.

“Perhaps,” the quieter woman beside him said. She was sipping on her drink much more timidly than the others, her glass barely half-empty whereas her companions were in need of a refill. “But do you think the United Future Party has gained enough traction to truly compete with the dominant parties?”

As the discussion turned to politics, Akira tuned out, choosing to watch Akechi instead. Though he’d admitted to being nervous back in the taxi, he seemed to be the picture of confidence right now: he held himself with an easy poise, attentive and making eye contact with each of his speaking partners in turn – but looking closely, Akira could see the tension in his shoulders. Keeping up his act was taking a lot of effort.

“What do you think, dear?”

The group went quiet, and suddenly all eyes were on Akira. He blinked to attention, and realized he’d completely lost the conversation.

Okay, okay… how did this start? Praising Shido… and discussing the future of his campaign… I wasn’t tuned out for that long. They couldn’t have moved on yet.

When Akira didn’t immediately respond, Akechi stiffened up and laughed awkwardly. “Ahaha, well—” he began, but Akira swiftly placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him the silent, universal look that said “I got this”.

He swept his gaze over the group before eventually landing on Kato-san, who seemed to command the most attention out of the four. Speaking to her, Akira said: “Traction doesn’t mean much if the party lacks funds, something Shido-san seems to have in spades. All he truly needs, then, is to capture the will of the people. Which, look around.” He gestured to the room at large and then gave a smile, raised his glass, and took a long sip of his drink, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

There was a distinct moment where the elites around him just stared, but then an approving murmur rippled through the group.

“Well said.” Kato-san nodded at him. “Akechi-kun’s guest… Tell us about yourself. What do you do for a living?”

This was a question he had fully anticipated and for which he was well-prepared. He was a little uncomfortable with the idea of telling all these strangers – strangers with an affinity for a politician like Shido, no less – any true details about himself, so this seemed like an obvious place to… bend the truth, somewhat.

So Akira placed his free hand over his chest, mentally dredged up every technical buzzword he’d ever heard Futaba spout, and began to lie through his teeth.

“I’m a software developer with a small start-up company,” he said, going on to spin a tale of hypothetical entrepreneurship that was just detailed enough to sound plausible, but vague enough that he wouldn’t have to expose his lack of knowledge. In truth, he knew next to nothing about this kind of thing, and he didn’t even know what might be considered “profitable” – but looking around the table at everyone listening to him with rapt attention, he thought he was doing all right.

Halfway through, Akira chanced a look over at Akechi, who was staring at him incredulously, barely managing to keep his face appropriately neutral.

“We’re still in the development stage, but we’re planning a soft launch for the first quarter of next year. I’m under contract, so I can’t say much more than that, but it’s something I think the public will really embrace…” Akira smiled as he finished his spiel. “Ah, but I’ve said so much – I apologize.”

“Not at all,” the thin man said, shaking his head. “It’s truly impressive to see a young person with such drive – to be expected from one of Akechi-san’s acquaintances, of course, but—”

From there, the group propelled itself into conversation again, and Akira could see Akechi visible relax, perhaps comforted by the fact that Akira was clearly a capable improviser. Over the course of their conversation, Akira quickly learned that dealing with socialites wasn’t terribly different from dealing with customers: that is, what people wanted most was a captive audience to which they could talk about themselves. That was a skill Akira had perfected at Leblanc, and he put it to good use here.

A few minutes later, another guest called Kato’s name, and she glanced over her shoulder, looking a bit cross. “Ah, I was so wrapped up in conversation that I’ve neglected my responsibilities. It was a delight to meet you,” she said, turning to Akira and dipping her upper body in a curt bow. “I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself this evening.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Akira replied. He turned to Akechi, and said, “We ought to move on ourselves, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I believe we should,” Akechi said. They took a moment to say goodbye, and then they took off, wandering even deeper into the building.

“You look like you want to say something, Goro-kun,” Akira said.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Akechi replied, waving his free hand airily. “It’s just… hmm. You do know that everything you just said was complete nonsense, don’t you?”

“Oh totally,” Akira said. “But do you think they knew?”

“Hard to say. Those who suspected it wouldn’t say anything for fear of looking foolish.” Akechi smirked. “You certainly have a way with words.”

“I was just following your masterful example from earlier,” Akira said. “What, did you eat a thesaurus before we got here?” he asked, nudging Akechi in the ribs with his elbow.

Akechi covered his mouth with his hand, stifling a laugh. “Don’t make fun of me. I was successful, wasn’t I?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t know what you meant,” Akira said, “so depending on your definition of successful…”

Akechi shook his head, still laughing softly as they stepped aside to avoid a large cluster of party guests. “Still, I’m impressed,” he said. “I was expecting to have to shield you from most political talk tonight, but it would seem you’re more than capable of holding your own.”

“I told you I was a good student,” Akira said, unable to fully hide the smug satisfaction from his voice. “I always study up before a big test.”

“If you only cram before a test, you’re not a very good student.”

At this, Akechi’s smirk grew even longer, and Akira flushed at his teasing.

“All right, we’re not here to critique my academic skills. C’mon,” he said, and all but dragged Akechi through the open doors to their right.

The room they were in now must have been the orphanage’s shared dining room, not only because it was the present location of several long tables absolutely covered in food, but because it was huge and spacious, and while the floor was currently occupied with more of the nicely-covered tables from the lobby, it looked as though it could easily accommodate several dozen children at a time. Astoundingly, this place was even more crowded than the lobby.

“As long as we’re here, we may as well partake,” Akechi said, gesturing to the buffets. “If I am to say anything kind about my father, it is that he understands the easiest way to placate the masses is by feeding them good food.”

And indeed, Akira had to admit the catering was top-notch. Akechi was careful to grab only a few items, but Akira piled his plate high with food, and when they were satisfied, they took their bounty back to a table, snacking leisurely and letting guests come to them rather than seek anyone out. Many people wanted to simply greet Akechi – a formality, Akira assumed – with only a few of them bothering to verbally acknowledge Akira’s presence, although he was definitely getting a lot of stares.

Akira was picking at crumbs on his plate and contemplating going back for more food when he heard Akechi make a startled noise.

“Oh… hmm. Prepare yourself; we’re about to have company.”

“Huh?” Akira looked up. For the first time that evening, Akechi looked genuinely uncomfortable, and Akira quickly scanned the vicinity. They hadn’t caught a glimpse of Shido all night, and Akira wondered if he was about to make an appearance, but the only person walking their way was a young woman. She was about their age, Akira decided, but she had an air of elegance about her that made him feel very small. Her hair was shiny and black, pulled back into a bun with soft bangs artfully cropping her features, and she was wearing a dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Ann’s modeling wardrobe.

“Ah… Watanabe-chan,” Akechi said, forcing a smile to his face as she approached.

The woman looked unimpressed. “Akechi,” she said, nodding curtly. She turned her eye to Akira and gave him a long, appraising look that made his skin prickle. “So, this is the one the internet won’t shut up about,” she said.

“Ha ha, indeed so,” Akechi said, clapping Akira on the shoulder and curling his fingers against him uncomfortably. “Akira, this is Misaki Watanabe-chan. Her mother is the CEO and founder of a large accounting firm in Shibuya. Watanabe-chan, this is—”

“I know who he is,” Watanabe said sharply. “I’m surprised, actually… that you’d bring a two-week fling to your father’s fundraising charity.”

Akira could feel his nerves standing on end, but it was almost as though Akechi had anticipated something like this, because he smiled brightly and didn’t seem remotely put-off by her accusations.

“Ah, you should know as well as I that the press can be selectively blind when it wants to be. In fact, I’ve managed to hide this relationship for over a year before I finally slipped up,” Akechi said.

“Yeah, sure,” Watanabe said, with a barely-concealed scowl on her face. “Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing,” she added in a much lower voice.

Akechi pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything else, someone called out to her, a sharp, commanding voice that pierced the room. Watanabe shut her eyes tightly and sighed. “What a pain,” she muttered under her breath, and when she opened her eyes again, she was glaring. “Hope you’re having fun, Akechi,” she said, before turning on her heel and striding away.

Akechi let out a relieved sigh once Watanabe was out of earshot. “She was one of the people my father arranged for me to meet,” he explained. “Her mother is very influential, and someone who could provide a great deal of funds to Shido-san’s campaign, were she so inclined. Watanabe-chan is her only child, and thus set to take over the corporation in time.”

“She seemed… intense,” Akira said, and Akechi laughed.

“That’s a charitable way of putting it, yes.” He sighed, dragging his fork along his plate. “But don’t put too much stock in her words… she’s likely putting on a face, like the rest of us.”

Akira hummed thoughtfully. “Is this what you meant?” he asked. “When you said you’re different out here, not at Leblanc.”

“Ah, that,” Akechi said. “…yes. It’s hard not to notice, isn’t it? No one here is acting like themselves. Everyone’s wearing armor, myself included.” He looked up at Akira. “But not you. You’re like a secret weapon, a dagger that sneaks under their protection, catching them by surprise… I’m glad I asked you to do this with me.”

Akira had to bite his tongue to keep from responding to the gentle smile Akechi gave him just then, to the warmth and genuine appreciation in his voice, because all it made him want to do was grab Akechi by the shoulders and kiss him silly. Perhaps it was a temptation he should have indulged – it would certainly cause a scene – but he wasn’t sure he could endure such self-inflicted torture, not when the night was more than half-over, their time together dwindling down by the minute.

He wished they could be anywhere else but here.

“I’m — gonna go get more food,” Akira mumbled, grabbing his plate.

Akechi’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? All right. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” Akira said, a little too quickly. “N-no, we might lose our table. Stay here? I won’t be long.”

“Hmm… you may be right. Okay, I’ll be here,” Akechi said. “Will you bring me something sweet?”

Akira nodded, and quickly darted off into the crowd, where the omnipresent hum of conversation helped to drown out the sound of his heartbeat.

Walking around the banquet hall without Akechi left Akira feeling exposed and vulnerable, but he found that no one paid him a lick of attention; they were all too absorbed in themselves. Akira obtained another plate of snacks, though he wasn’t very hungry anymore, and he tried to make himself invisible, listening in on adjacent conversations.

It was all very strange. Everyone was speaking on the most mundane of topics – news or business or popular media – but the way they varied their inflection made it seem as though a second conversation was taking place beneath their spoken words. It was exhausting, and Akira knew he wasn’t at all cut out for this kind of lifestyle.

“Hey,” someone said.

Akira nearly jumped, turning to identify the voice, and found one Misaki Watanabe standing against the wall next to him, staring out into the room. She had a drink in her hand, something bubbly that she swirled around in the glass so harshly it threatened to overflow.

“Hey,” Akira replied.

“So,” she said, still not looking at Akira, “have you two really been together for a year?”

Akira stared blankly at her for a moment. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah.”

When she finally turned to look at him, it was with a chilly stare that made him shiver. “Where’d you meet?” she asked.

“…Work.”

It was the truth, and pretty generic – no harm in telling her that.

“Yeah? I’ve never seen you before… where do you work?”

“A coffee shop outside the city,” Akira said.

Watanabe frowned, and he couldn’t tell if she was satisfied with his answer or not.

“Look… you get why this is suspicious, right?” she asked him. “I don’t care how careful you are – no one can avoid the media for a whole year. So for you to show up all of a sudden… it sure seems like Akechi’s doing it on purpose.”

Wow, she was sharp. Akira kept his poker face up. “I get it,” he said. “But why would he pretend?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Watanabe said. She took a sip of her drink and made a face, swallowing with some difficulty. “Shit,” she hissed. “He really was seeing someone, then.” Before Akira could ask her to clarify, she looked him in the eye and said, “Akechi went out with me three weeks ago.”

Akira held his breath and waited.

“But,” Watanabe continued, “I know the only reason it happened in the first place was because my mom and his dad set it up. He probably didn’t have a choice. I didn’t.”

“Okay,” Akira said.

“I’m just telling you. It’s not like he was cheating on you or anything. He obviously didn’t want to be there, anyway,” she said, muttering the last few words into her drink. “Now I know why, I guess.”

“Ah,” Akira said. “I’m sorry?”

Watanabe shrugged. “Whatever,” she said. “Now you know. Tell him I don’t resent him or something, okay?”

Without waiting for Akira to respond, she pushed off the wall and disappeared into the crowd.

Yes, Akira thought, he definitely wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. He was surprised at how much Watanabe had reminded him of Akechi in that moment; the weight they both seemed to carry on their shoulders looked heavy, nearly impossible to bear. To be under such constant scrutiny from their family and their peers alike… it must have been incredibly isolating.

His heart felt tight, and he knew he needed to return to their table. He shouldn’t have left Akechi alone so suddenly just because he couldn’t keep his emotions under control – it wasn’t his fault Akira was feeling like this.

…well, in a very literal sense, it absolutely was, but that didn’t mean Akira had to punish him for it. They were supposed to be a team tonight, and Akira needed to get back to him before—

Akira stopped just short of their table. He needed to get back before someone found them – before Shido found them – but it was too late for that now, because Shido was there, right beside Akechi, right where Akira had been standing. Had his conversation with Watanabe really taken that long? He couldn’t have been gone for more than five minutes. Had this been on purpose, then? Could Shido have been waiting to ambush Akechi the second he was alone, or was it really just chance that he’d show up in the only moment Akira had left Akechi’s side all evening?

Anger swelled within Akira’s core – but he was going to be smart about this. He hadn’t been spotted yet – Shido was too engaged in his conversation, and Akechi’s back was to Akira – so he put his old skills to good use, creeping up as close as he could and using a small gathering of more boisterous guests as cover to eavesdrop on Akechi and Shido’s conversation.

“—interesting choice of company tonight, I must admit—“

That was Shido talking, Akira knew. He could remember that voice vividly.

“—surprised that you never mentioned your consort before now.”

“Ah, it simply never seemed relevant,” Akechi replied. Akira was impressed – his voice didn’t waver at all. “I assure you, if I felt it was worthy of note, I would have done so.”

“So you admit he isn’t noteworthy, and yet you’ve brought him here tonight?” There was a tiny flash of a bite beneath Shido’s words this time, a strange contrast to the too-wide smile he had on his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, of course – I’m simply a bit disappointed, and after I went through all the trouble of arranging introductions for you…”

“Oh?” Akechi’s voice pitched up in exaggerated surprise. “I must have misunderstood your intentions. The way those women were conducting themselves, well, I assumed they were trying to court me,” he said, and he laughed, as if that were the most ridiculous thing he could imagine. “I thought it rather strange that you would take such a sudden interest in my personal life… But clearly I was mistaken, yes? I didn’t realize you were hoping to use tonight as a networking event for me. That was very thoughtful.”

Though Shido appeared outwardly stoic, Akira could practically see the rage simmering just below his skin. With a disposition like that, it was no wonder he’d become such a powerhouse in the political world – it would be so much easier to just agree with him than try to argue.

Akira slipped his way between the guests and reappeared at Akechi’s side.

“Here’s your food, babe,” he said focusing all his attention first on Akechi, as if there was no one else around who mattered at all – and indeed, there wasn’t – and then glancing ever-so-casually towards Shido. “Ah, am I interrupting?” he asked.

Shido’s attention flicked over to Akira, and he stared at him with an intensity that could force a weak-willed person into submission in seconds. Akira, however, was not so easily intimidated. He steeled his eyes and held his shoulders up, his back straight, and met Shido’s gaze with equal ferocity.

Remember me, his posture said. I dare you.

“…Not at all,” Shido said, easily slipping back into the role of a charismatic politician, a perfectly neutral expression on his face. Whether he’d recognized Akira or not was impossible to say. “I’m simply checking in with all my guests. I’m afraid we haven’t had the pleasure yet – I am Masayoshi Shido. And you…?”

“Shido…?” Akira scrunched up his face and chose to ignore the request for his name – he was sure Shido already knew it, anyway. “Oh! Are you a politician?” he asked, his face the picture of innocence.

Shido’s eyes flashed with confusion for just a second. “That’s correct,” he said slowly. He looked at Akechi, who had chosen this moment to take a long sip of his drink.

“Ah, I knew it,” Akira said, smiling triumphantly. “Your name is familiar. Are you with the LDP?” he asked.

“No, I—“

“DJP?” Akira interrupted.

“No,” Shido said, much more firmly this time. He was very close to losing his cool, but he managed to retain a sense of decorum, even now. “I have branched off and established my own party. This fundraising event is in its name… am I to understand you didn’t read the invitation to the very event you’re now attending?”

“Oh, that,” Akira said, nodding vigorously as if he’d only just recalled. “I saw the name, but I didn’t think it was serious.” Shido’s lips were pressed into a thin line as Akira carried on. “That’s quite bold of you, making a bid for Prime Minister already… You’re the only cabinet member in your party, right?”

“For now,” Shido said. “However, it only takes one person to rally support into existence. The public grows more and more disillusioned with the established parties every day… I hope to bring a breath of fresh air to the government.” At this, he smiled in a way that belied his personable act. “Ah, but don’t worry. It’s not something I’d expect a child like you to understand.”

“Perhaps,” Akira said. “But children like me are coming of age every day. I wouldn’t be so quick to write off the younger voter demographics… sir.” He sharply enunciated that last word, filling it with the hatred he’d felt back in his youth, turning it into a sharp point that he hoped would pierce Shido’s calm exterior.

For what seemed like an eternity, Shido simply stared at him.

“…What an astute observation,” he finally said, turning to Akechi and giving him a sneer that was barely disguised as a smile. “You’ve found a companion worthy of yourself, Akechi.”

“Yes,” Akechi said, smiling fondly at Akira. “I believe I have.”

Had the conversation continued, Akira thought the unspoken animosity between them might have caused Shido to snap, but fortune had it that they were interrupted by the appearance of another well-dressed man, who looked somewhat frazzled.

“Shido-san, sir!” the man said. “It’s almost time.”

Shido barely offered him a glance. “Thank you; I shall be there shortly,” he said, before turning to address Akira and Akechi. “What an interesting conversation this has been, but I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere.”

With one last, long look thrown at Akechi, Shido excused himself and allowed the beleaguered man to lead him away.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Akechi said once they were alone again.

“I know,” Akira said. “But everything in my body was telling me to punch him, so… this seemed like the safer option.”

“Trying to earn that assault charge now, are you?” Akechi asked with a grin, before adding, “…however, I do appreciate it.” His eyes then lit up with recognition. “Oh, I saw you talking with Watanabe-chan earlier. She wasn’t bothering you, was she?”

Akira shook his head. “Nah. She seems like she’s not a bad person, actually,” he said.

“Mm,” Akechi nodded. “I agree. Even if I had been interested… I wouldn’t have wanted her to get tangled up in my father’s business.” He sighed and gestured to the other side of the room, where Akira could see a small raised platform had been set up. “Shido will be addressing the crowd soon,” Akechi said. “I don’t much care to stick around for it… what about you?”

“Dipping out early with your boyfriend is pretty much the perfect way to end this evening, don’t you think?” Akira asked.

Akechi laughed. “Yes, I think you’re right,” he said, and linked his arm around Akira’s to guide him to the exit. He clung to Akira with the most overt affection he’d shown all evening, and Akira could feel the stares as they left, brazenly walking out the front door just as Shido’s voice came booming out over a speaker.

Outside, it was crisp and cold, with a perfectly clear sky overhead. Akira felt his shoulders relax involuntarily once they were finally out of that stuffy place.

“It’s not terribly far, and it’s a nice enough night, so would you be opposed to walking back to the train station?” Akechi asked. “I’d like to stretch my legs.”

“Sure,” Akira said.

For a few blocks, they walked in an easy silence, but the more time passed, the colder Akira became, both inside and out. When they reached the subway station, Akechi dropped his hold on Akira’s arm, which made it much easier to stand on the train, but even once they reached Yongen-Jaya, he didn’t reach out for Akira again.

And why should he? They weren’t a couple.

They came to a halt outside of Leblanc. It was just past closing time, and the café was dark – Sojiro had already left – leaving them alone on the street.

“So I guess I might be biased,” Akira said, turning to face Akechi, “but I think that went pretty well.”

“I would agree,” Akechi said. “All thanks to you.”

He smiled, and Akira almost thought he looked… wistful.

But he knew it was just his imagination.

“Will you head home now?” Akira asked.

“Yes. I’m feeling quite drained, to be honest,” Akechi said. “Oh, but…” he hesitated, dropping his eyes to the ground. “Truly, I can’t thank you enough. I know this was an odd request to make of you, and you came through more than I could have imagined.”

“No problem. It was – it was fun,” Akira said.

“Yes,” Akechi said softly. “I had fun, as well.”

Silence stretched out before them, and while it was undeniably time for them to part, neither of them moved.

Now would be the time to say something, Akira thought. He’d promised Ann he would, after all.

“Well then.” Akechi cleared his throat when Akira didn’t reply. “I shall see you next week, as usual?” he asked, and for a half-second Akira thought he meant… but then realized he was simply talking about his visits to Leblanc. Akira nodded.

“Of course,” he said.

“Lovely.” Akechi smiled. “Good night, then, Kurusu-kun,” he said.

Akira felt a jolt like electricity run through his heart, and he could swear that for a moment it stopped beating entirely. And that was it, wasn’t it? It was just like Akechi had said – he’d call him Akira for the time being. That time was over now, and it was back to the way things were, just like he’d promised.

“Good night,” Akira said.

He could apologize to Ann later.

Without bothering to watch Akechi leave, Akira turned and unlocked Leblanc’s door, all but throwing himself inside. He stared forward with unfocused eyes as he flipped the lock again, then turned on his heel and walked through the dark café, stumbling towards the stairs. The heavy party food weighed down his stomach and made him feel sick, and it was all he could do to strip the fancy suit from his body and throw on something comfortable before he fell into his bed.

He curled up into a ball, clutching tightly to his spare pillow, yet he couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Akechi would come back to Leblanc next week, like he said he would, and they would talk like they always did; that had been enough for him before. Surely the dull pain in his chest would fade, and this crush would disappear…

Something depressed the bed; Morgana had leapt up and was now walking over Akira’s body. His eyes gleamed in the dark and he blinked at Akira, before curling up on top of his pillow, close enough that Akira could reach out and gently pet his back. It was a small comfort, and in time, Morgana’s soft purring was enough to finally lull Akira into an uneasy sleep.

The weekend came and went with no word from Akechi – and that was fine, that was normal – but when Monday rolled around and Akira was standing behind Leblanc’s counter, wearing an apron and cleaning out the coffee pot, Akechi arrived, right on schedule. Akira’s first instinct was to hide, but with Sojiro busy cooking, it was up to Akira to serve him.

Akechi took his seat, the same as he always did, and smiled.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Are you well, Kurusu-kun?”

No.

“Uh.” Akira’s mouth felt dry. “Well enough,” he said with a shrug.

Akechi hummed agreeably, bringing out his attaché case and producing a few papers while Akira stepped away to prepare his drink.

“You may be interested to know that my father paid me a visit this weekend,” he mentioned when Akira brought him his coffee.

“Really?” Akira asked. “How, uh… was he mad?”

“Furious,” Akechi said, his lips quirking up in a little, knowing smile. That smile cut through Akira’s skin like a dagger and sank right into his heart, so beautiful that it was painful.

With only no other customers to speak of, the café was utterly silent; the only sound came from the TV, which was turned down so low it was practically inaudible. Akira wished he could say something, but his mind refused to supply him with conversation, and even if he knew what to say, he doubted his tongue would cooperate.

All at once, a terrible longing filled Akira’s chest. He felt a great weight tug on his heart and he realized he was feeling real, true want – desire, for the one sitting in front of him, who despite his proximity was so terribly far away. This was the cruelest joke anyone could have played on him. To throw him into this relationship with a finite existence, a concrete expiration date, to allow him to get so close… he was a fool, an absolute fool.

Akechi sipped on his coffee quietly, half-heartedly looking at a few papers, but he wasn’t focusing. Akira could tell, because when he periodically glanced Akechi’s way, the detective was staring off into space – until he abruptly got to his feet, standing so quickly that the barstool scraped across the floor.

“Ah, forgive me,” Akechi said, gathering his papers up and stuffing them back into his case. “It would seem there’s an emergency at work; I’ll have to take my leave somewhat early.”

That got Sojiro to look up from his curry pot. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Akechi said, flashing Boss a smile as he dropped his payment on the table. “But it’s time-sensitive. Thank you for the coffee as always, Boss, and Kurusu…” he hesitated, his eyes flicking over to Akira’s, “I’ll see you.”

Then he was gone, Leblanc’s door chiming to signal his departure. Akira looked down at Akechi’s abandoned coffee mug and found it was nearly full. He hadn’t even waited to get his change.

Sojiro arched an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Akira. “You two having a fight?” he asked.

“No,” Akira said.

“A break-up, then?”

“We weren’t dating,” Akira muttered, aggressively scrubbing out a stain on the counter. This was the last conversation he wanted to be having right now.

“Really,” Sojiro said flatly. “Could’ve fooled me. Did he know you weren’t dating?”

“It was his idea,” Akira said. The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Sojiro let out a rough sigh. “I really don’t get kids these days…” he muttered, running a hand over his hair. “Ugh. Listen… don’t do something you regret just because you’re being stubborn, okay?”

“I’m not being stubborn,” Akira said.

I’m just being realistic.

Akechi didn’t come by the next day, or the day after that.

It was on the third day of his moping that Sojiro kicked Akira out of the café, insisting he find somewhere else to wallow in his own self-inflicted misery. Thankfully Ann was free, and eagerly accepted his invitation for coffee – somewhere other than Leblanc, which offered Akira a chance to indulge in something sugary-sweet that would probably give Sojiro a heart attack if he even thought about serving it.

Ann was truly an excellent friend. The second she caught sight of him that afternoon, she sat him down at the table and made him tell her what was wrong – the whole story, she insisted – and she listened to him without interruption, without a shred of judgment on her face.

“He’s not even coming to Leblanc any more…” Akira muttered, having filled her in up to the present day’s events.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” Ann asked.

“Three days.”

“Akira.”

Akira sighed and slumped down against the table. “I know, I know,” he said. “But he doesn’t… he’s never been more than a few days. I can’t help it. The correlation…”

Ann shook her head, stirring her drink. “You’ve got it bad, huh?” she asked. Akira grumbled and buried his head in his arms. “You should at least tell him,” she added. “I – I mean, if he’s already avoiding Leblanc anyway, then what’s the worst that could happen…?”

Akira raised his head and stared at her.

“Okay, okay, my bad,” she said, waving her hand. “But ask yourself. Are you really going to feel better knowing you didn’t try at all?”

Akira didn’t think he could feel worse than he already did. But if he could… he didn’t want to think about it.

“No sign of him today,” Sojiro told him when he returned home, although Akira never asked. He accepted the curry that was offered to him and holed up in an empty booth, picking at his food and staring at his phone.

Hours passed. The shop closed, Sojiro left, turning off most of the lights as he did, and still Akira sat rooted to the spot, typing and erasing a dozen different messages, trying to find the right words.

Did you have fun these last two weeks fun, Akechi-kun? Because I did.

He winced and deleted the text. That wouldn’t work.

Actually, I know this was all one big joke, but I sort of liked kissing you a lot. Maybe we could do it again sometime?

Oh sure, he could imagine how that conversation would go. How desperate he’d seem…

Hey, I miss you.

His thumb was hovering over the send button when a knock at the door nearly sent him jumping out of his skin. Akira threw his phone into his pocket and jumped to his feet, grumbling to himself. It was late, and the sign on the door had been flipped to “closed”, so who could possibly mistake them for being open?

Any trace of frustration he had melted away when he caught sight of the person through Leblanc’s window. He lunged for the door and wrenched it open, and Akechi was there, a few stray raindrops clinging to his bangs, and in his arms, he was carrying something bright and colorful and delicately wrapped and it was definitely a bouquet of flowers – Akira recognized the logo on their wrapping as belonging to the flower shop in Shibuya station.

“Ah—Akechi?” Akira asked.

“Good evening,” Akechi said. “Um. I apologize for dropping by so suddenly like this. May I come in?”

“Yeah,” Akira said, stepping aside to allow Akechi entrance.

The flowers were covered in raindrops, but the petals were firm and fresh – Akechi must have bought them today, but the closest flower shop had closed more than an hour ago. Had Akechi been walking around with this bouquet all evening?

“Akechi… what is this?” Akira asked.

Akechi looked at the item in his hands. “It’s supposed to be… I wanted to thank you, and to apologize,” he said. “I’ve made things awkward between us. I never wanted that.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Akira said.

Akechi let out a puff of air. “But it is different, isn’t it?” he asked. “The other day…”

It was impossible to deny. The awkward silence that had filled the café that afternoon had been like a heavy blanket, weighing them down, nearly suffocating them.

Akechi sighed and looked balefully down at the flowers. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? I felt so foolish carrying it around… I shouldn’t have let the clerk at Rafflesia talk me into this. Such an empty gesture.” He dropped his arm to his side, holding the bouquet loosely in his hand.

“It’s not stupid,” Akira assured him, scooping the flowers out of his hand before they dropped to the ground. He laid them delicately on the counter. “I just don’t understand.”

With nothing else to occupy his hands, Akechi crossed his arms over his chest as if he was hugging himself.

“Akira…”

Akechi cut himself off before he even began, walking over to a barstool and practically falling into it, though Akira didn’t notice; he was too distracted by the sound of his name on Akechi’s tongue again.

“I have something to confess,” Akechi said. His hands were clenched into fists, which he pressed tightly against his knees. “You’ll listen, right?”

Akira could hear the blood pumping through his ears as his heart rate spiked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I… wasn’t wholly truthful with you, back before the banquet,” Akechi began. “T-that’s not to say I lied to you. Everything I said was true, and I desperately wanted to do something that would go against my father’s will, but…” he trailed off. “I admit I grew to enjoy our arrangement beyond what I originally imagined, and during that time, I’ve… grown quite fond of you as well, Akira.”

He smiled weakly. “Actually, that isn’t quite right. I’ve cared about you for a long time now. Haha…” His laugh sounded utterly defeated and hollow. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I could find somewhere else to go for coffee. I don’t want to make things awkward for you in your own home—”

“Goro,” Akira said, and Akechi stopped mid-sentence to look up at him. In his eyes, Akira saw no façade – there was nothing hidden, only raw emotion. Akechi was fully vulnerable to him, and when Akira reached out to gently caress his cheek, a flicker of hope crossed Akechi’s face.

How long had it been? Only a few days – not even a week – and yet kissing Akechi now felt like coming home after a long trip away, warm and comforting. Perfect. Akira took a step closer and Akechi’s hand landed on his chest; he curled his fingers into the fabric and tugged, returning the kiss with an intensity and passion he’d never expressed to Akira before, as if he’d been holding himself back with every kiss they’d previously shared.

Even when they parted, they stayed close, Akira wrapping his arms tightly around Akechi’s shoulders. He could feel Akechi trembling beneath him.

“Akira…”

“Date me,” Akira murmured.

“Yes,” Akechi said. “Yes, I will – I want to.” His voice broke on a nervous laugh. “I’m so sorry I lied to you – I didn’t mean to, I just…”

“It’s fine; it’s fine – I don’t care,” Akira said, brushing his lips against Akechi’s temple, peppering him with gentle kisses which traveled lower and lower until their lips met again.

“You know,” Akechi said slowly, when their kiss broke at last, “in all the time we’ve been dating, you’ve still never invited me up to your room.”

“…didn’t want to rush things,” Akira said.

“It’s been over a year, Akira-kun,” Akechi said, his voice airy and teasing as he curled a tuft of Akira’s hair around his finger. The sly implications made Akira shiver with anticipation.

“Okay,” Akira breathed. “Then, Goro… will you stay with me?”

Akechi said nothing, opting instead to throw his arms around Akira’s back and pull him into a deep, crushing embrace, and Akira could barely keep himself from smiling.

He was a fool, an utter fool, just not in the way he’d originally thought. How kind of Akechi to clear things up for him.