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When Akira texted him at 12am, clearly intoxicated, Goro knew it was in his best interest to ignore it. But as with most instances in which Akira Kurusu was involved, the rational part of his brain seemed to have abandoned him.
cmon i wnna see u, Akira texted clumsily. Goro felt his phone creak under his grip.
He should say no. He should tell Akira to go to sleep and leave it at that. He had to admit, though, there was a part of him that was satisfied that Akira was willing to leave the party he was at with his boyfriend just to see him. It was that selfish part of him that always lingered just beneath the surface, the one that was desperate to take whatever it wanted regardless of the consequences.
And god, did he want Akira.
He shook his head, quickly suppressing the thought. That wasn’t the person he wanted to be anymore. That was the version of himself that Masayoshi Shido would be proud to call his son, something Goro had once strived for above all else. Now, however, he was more interested in being someone Akira Kurusu could be proud to call his friend.
What’s the address? he texted back anyway, despite his better judgement. As if he could deny Akira anything.
And that was how Goro Akechi ended up driving across Tokyo at midnight to Ann Takamaki’s parent’s house, donned lazily in sweatpants and tied-back hair. Normally he would put an embarrassing amount of time into his looks when he knew he was going to be seeing Akira, but even he wasn’t obsessed with appearance enough to bother dolling himself up to go to Big Bang Burger in the middle of the night. Akira was drunk, anyway, he probably wouldn’t notice.
“Hey. I like your hair,” Akira said immediately upon entering the vehicle, a lazy grin on his face. “You should wear it like that more.”
Goro glanced at the other boy. His face was flushed bright red from the alcohol, and he was staring at Goro with glassy eyes, still grinning at him like he was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. Goro was angry, suddenly. What right did he have to be that attractive? Was he put on this earth just to torment Goro? Was that it?
He briefly imagined pushing Akira out of the car, and that made him feel a little bit better.
“You smell like a brewery,” Goro replied dryly, implementing his greatest talent of suppressing his feelings. Akira laughed sheepishly.
“Yeah… sorry,” he said, looking genuinely apologetic. He laughed again, but this time it was more like a giggle, and this time Goro imagined throwing himself out of the moving vehicle instead. “I uhhh, I don’t drink that much. I… how does Ryuji put it? I… can’t hold my liquor for shit. That’s it. Heh.”
Goro couldn’t help but smile. He was cute like this. “Well, I’m glad you were having fun.”
“Mm. I was. It’s hard for all my friends to get together these days,” Akira mumbled, laying back against the seat lazily. “Y’should join us next time.”
Goro side-eyed him. “Yes, I’ll be sure to. I’m sure Okumura would love that,” he said dryly. Akira twirled at the end of his hair.
“I meant… after she leaves,” he muttered. “But… with her too, eventually. She just needs some time. I think once everyone gets to know you, they’ll definitely like you. I mean, I do. A lot.”
Goro sighed. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he said.
“I mean it,” Akira said, very seriously. “You and Futaba would definitely get along, you’re both huge nerds. Uhh, Ryuji, well… oh Yusuke! You and Yusuke remind me a lot of each other, I think you’d be good friends.”
It took an incredible amount of effort to keep himself from snorting sardonically. “We do have some common interests,” he deadpanned in reply.
They were quiet for a while, Goro letting his mind wander as he focused on the dark, empty roads. He didn’t drive very often; gas was expensive and taking the train was usually more convenient, but he found he enjoyed being behind the wheel when he had the opportunity. “It’s cool that you can drive,” Akira broke through the silence, as if reading his mind. He was notably more talkative than usual in this state; it was normally Goro doing most of the talking. “I don’t even have a license. Guess I’m gay enough to fit the stereotype.” Goro choked.
“In that case, I wouldn’t have one either,” he said. Akira laughed loudly. “I suppose I don’t really need to drive, but I enjoy it. I’ve been considering getting a motorcycle license, actually.”
Akira didn’t respond for several moments, so Goro glanced over at him curiously. He was met with the other boy staring at him, wide-eyed, his face flushed even darker than it had been previously. “...What?” Goro asked self-consciously. Akira gave him another one of his stupidly-attractive crooked grins.
“Motorcycles are sexy,” he said, completely unabashed. Goro exhaled shakily. “Can you take me for a ride?”
“Probably not. Unless you compensate me for gas,” Goro replied. Akira sighed dramatically.
“See that… that was not sexy. You ruined it,” he whined. “You make it so hard.”
“Make what so hard?”
Akira was quiet for a long time. “I really like you,” he finally said, his speech slightly slurred. Goro sighed.
“You said that already,” he said tiredly.
“But I don’t think you understand,” Akira continued, with a frightening amount of sincerity. “How much I like you.”
Goro brought his thumb up to his mouth and bit it hard in an attempt to hold back everything he wanted to say. You can’t have him, his inner voice screamed at him desperately. He’s drunk and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s in a relationship with somebody else. He’s not yours.
God, it was so unfair. By pure chance, the universe had given him someone who genuinely cared about him, someone who had seen his worst sides and still wanted him around, and yet made that person completely unavailable to him. He knew, logically, that he should be happy to have Akira in his life, even if only as a friend. He was unbelievably lucky to find someone who gave a shit for the first time in his entire twenty-one years of living. But it was… difficult. Akira was just so unbelievably kind, and handsome, and smart, and he looked at Goro like he was something special, and Goro…
Goro was so fucking in love with him that he ached with it. It was just so unfair.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied tightly.
An uncomfortable silence followed, in which Goro couldn’t bring himself to look at Akira. “Right. Sorry,” he eventually mumbled. Goro wanted to scream.
The silence stretched on for some time after that. Just when Goro thought he was going to suffocate from it, it was suddenly broken by a loud, obvious snore.
Akira was slumped over in the passenger seat, completely unconscious. Goro put his face in his hand and took a deep breath.
“Akira,” he said once, firmly. Akira didn’t even stir. He sighed long-sufferingly. Why had he agreed to this again?
The most convenient course of action would be to bring them both back to Goro’s apartment. He was exhausted, seeing as it was nearing 2am at this point, and Yongen would put him at least a half an hour out of the way. Also, the thought of waking up tomorrow morning and having Akira be there, of not being alone…
Ah, there it was again. The selfish part of him. That was the same thought process he’d had when he tore down Okumura; his own self-benefit above all else, with absolutely no thought to who he might harm in the process. Akira was in a relationship. No one in their right mind would be comfortable with their boyfriend spending the night alone with someone else, especially if that someone else was desperately in love with him.
He spent the rest of the drive to Yongen musing over who would win in a fight between him and Kitagawa. He had Goro in height, but he was also pretty skinny… Goro would like to think all the biking and exercising he engaged in regularly would give him the edge.
He really needed to go to sleep.
He drove up to the curb in front of Leblanc and flipped on his hazards, sighing as he looked over at Akira. It was nothing like how romance novels described watching the object of your affections sleep; he was sprawled out in an uncomfortable position, his neck turned at a harsh angle and his mouth wide open as he snored unattractively. He looked completely and utterly trashed. Goro didn’t think he’d ever liked him more than he did at that moment.
“Akira,” he said softly, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. You’re getting drool on my seat.”
Akira blinked awake, glancing over at him with unfocused eyes. “Where’re we?” he muttered.
“Leblanc. You fell asleep so I brought you home.”
Akira sat up, pausing for several seconds as he stared out the windshield blankly. Then, all at once, he threw open the door and bolted out of the car to throw up on the curb.
Goro scrubbed a hand over his face, before getting out as well. “Are you okay?” he asked. Akira responded with another retch. “Thank you for not doing that in my car.”
Akira tossed a thumbs-up over his shoulder, still hunched over and facing away from Goro. “Sorry, this is gross… I’m sorry,” he slurred, leaning hard against the wall of the cafe. Goro sighed, opening the back door of his car and grabbing the only article of clothing he had back there: a black, oversized hoodie with the name of his college written across it in purple lettering.
“Here, take off your shirt and put this on,” he instructed. He glanced at the door of Leblanc, a horrible thought suddenly occurring to him. “Please tell me you have your keys.”
Akira patted around his pockets for a few moments, before nodding and tossing his keys to Goro uncoordinatedly. Goro unlocked the cafe while Akira changed, flipping on the lights and grabbing a takeout bag from behind the counter. “Put your shirt in here,” he said as he walked back outside, handing Akira the bag. Akira grabbed it without meeting his eyes, and Goro couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or still very drunk. Probably both.
Goro put his arm around Akira’s waist to steady him, guiding him toward the door, but Akira pulled away stubbornly. “I can… I can do it, you can go, you’ve already helped…” Despite his words, he tripped over his feet and nearly fell flat on his face the moment Goro released him. Goro sighed and looked up at the sky, hoping to find answers to what the hell his life had come to somewhere up there.
“Akira,” he said firmly. Akira finally made eye contact with him, and held it for several seconds, before leaning back against Goro in defeat and allowing him to guide him inside.
He directed Akira toward the bathroom. “Wash off your face and brush your teeth,” he instructed softly. Akira whined, leaning his forehead against the mirror. “You’re going to regret it in the morning if you don’t. Where are your painkillers?”
“Cabinet above the microwave,” Akira muttered, stumbling as he splashed water on his face. Goro left him to get the medicine and a cup of water, taking them both up to his room and setting them beside the mattress on three crates Akira called a bed.
Goro paused beside the shelf of souvenirs given to Akira by his friends, his eyes immediately locking onto the new addition: a strip of photos the two of them had taken a few weeks ago at the underground mall. They were pretty ugly; in half of them Goro looked noticeably disgruntled, and in the other half he was wearing his fake media smile that made him cringe. Akira wasn’t even looking at the camera in a single one of them. Actually, he seemed to be looking at… Goro. He was staring at him with a soft, genuine smile, like he wasn’t even paying attention to the situation at all. Goro found it difficult to swallow, suddenly.
His racing thoughts were interrupted all at once by a crashing sound from the stairs. Goro nearly jumped out of his skin. “Ow,” Akira mumbled pathetically. Goro raced over to see the other boy sprawled on the stairs halfway up, lying completely still like he intended to stay there forever.
“Do you need some help?” Goro asked judgmentally. Akira just groaned in response.
He ended up having to nearly carry Akira up the stairs, the other boy’s face buried against his neck. “You’re strong,” Akira mumbled sleepily.
“I exercise a lot,” Goro replied. Akira stifled a giggle into his hair.
“I’m strong too. I can do pull-ups from that ceiling beam,” he pointed out. “We should arm wrestle.”
“We can’t. I’m left-handed,” Goro replied patiently. He dragged Akira over to the bed and dumped him onto it gracelessly. “And you need to go to sleep.”
“Haru is left-handed too… you could arm wrestle her…” Akira mumbled nonsensically into his pillow.
Goro snorted. “I think Okumura wants to do worse than just arm wrestle me,” he said dryly. “Goodnight, Akira. Get some rest, you’re going to feel like hell in the morning.”
Before Goro could even take a step toward the stairs, Akira’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. “Don’t go,” he said, his voice low and pleading in a way Goro had never heard it before. “Please?”
Goro’s breath caught. “I have to, Akira. It’s 2am,” he said desperately. But they both already knew he wasn’t going to say no. He never did, did he? “…I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”
Akira smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re the best,” he muttered. Goro just hummed in response, sitting on the edge of the bed and lamenting the fact that he had become such a pathetic, lovestruck pushover.
It was only a matter of minutes before Akira was asleep again, his face buried deep into his pillow and his limbs sprawled chaotically across his duvet. Goro reached over and ran his fingers through the other boy’s messy hair, exhaling deeply through his nose and closing his eyes. In a perfect world, he could lie down and fall asleep right there beside him. But this had never been a perfect world.
“I really like you too,” he said, so quietly that he could barely hear his own voice. “I like you so much that it terrifies me.” Akira just snored loudly in response.
It was several moments before he found the will to leave the attic and head back downstairs, flicking off lights as he went and locking up the front door behind him. He climbed into his car and leaned his forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel. He just needed some distance, that was all. Of course he wasn’t going to get over his infatuation when they spent almost every day together. He would cancel the plans they had for tomorrow, and he would get his coffee elsewhere, and he would stop agreeing to ridiculous requests like going to Big Bang Burger after midnight. Yeah, distance. That would help.
With one last look toward Leblanc he left, already convinced with frustrating certainty that he would be back again tomorrow.