Work Text:
Take me to the rooftop
I wanna see the world when I stop breathing, turning blue
Tell me love is endless, don't be so pretentious
Leave me like you do
“You didn’t happen to bring an umbrella, did you?”
It was meant to be a simple question, but perhaps the context held more weight to it than Akira initially intended for it too. The watch on his wrist read somewhere between midnight and one o’clock, and there he stood with none other than Akechi himself on the steps in front of Jazz Jin.
Rain poured down from the darkened sky above, pittering against the vacant streets of Kichijoji with little mercy. Nothing but dim street lanterns and bright neon signs illuminated the roads ahead and soft thunder boomed somewhere in the distance. Honestly, the entire scene was… peaceful. Akira was definitely fighting the urge to stomp around in the puddles pooling along the pavement.
However, he was currently in the company of someone who would most certainly not want to do that, so he practiced self-control for the time being.
“The forecast didn’t say anything about there being a storm tonight, so I’m afraid I left mine at home.” Akechi’s words were slow and drawn out, annoyance clear in his tone. The two stood there for a moment longer, watching the droplets fall and splash onto the ground.
“Do you want me to walk you to the station, then? I have mine with me.”
“I’ve had enough of being in your presence for one day. I’d prefer to wait until this blows over.”
To be entirely honest, Akira still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around this “new” Akechi. Before revealing his true colors, the detective had been polite and eager to please, never forgetting his manners and always prepared to put on a show face. Naturally, this had all changed after what happened on November 20th, and it’s not like Akira blamed the flip in personality, either. Akechi got played by the Phantom Thieves. One fatal slipup caused him all of his life’s work, and Akira knew that this fact had to sting hard. The brunet was quieter now, gaze piercing enough to slice through skin and words unnervingly relentless. His wit was sharper than ever, sheer intelligence alone making him a worthy ally and even worthier foe. Ever since finding themselves trapped in Maruki’s false reality, the two hadn’t had a choice but to team up for the time being, despite past differences. Akechi’s bloodlust in battle and desperation for… whatever it was he was seeking had Akira constantly on his toes, but nights like this where the two of them could relax over fruity beverages at the jazz club made his head buzz and stomach flutter.
There was something about their relationship that had always been peculiar. Akira knew deep down that all of the nights they had spent together up until Sae’s heist had been a rouse. He knew from the moment he came face to face with Akechi that the man had ulterior motives, and yet, he still found himself captivated by him. Maybe it had been the detective’s insane ability to lie his way out of everything, or his flawless charm and angelic behavior. Even with the knowledge that betrayal was always an end factor, Akira still allowed himself to be swept away in the beautifully crafted lie.
When Akechi had been bested in Shido’s palace, Akira felt… overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by feelings he couldn’t quite find the names for.
The significance of Akechi’s glove had increased tenfold that night.
And yet, here they were, hardly a few months later, watching the rain pour from the blackened night sky outside Jazz Jin as if there wasn’t a lifetime of unresolved history weighing heavy on their shoulders. So many words left unsaid, so many emotions rotting in their skulls.
Akira said he brought his umbrella with him, and yet he stood there at Akechi’s side, the daunting silence between them filtering out the downpour before them.
“I should probably get going, then,” Akira said quietly.
“You’ll miss the last train at this rate,” Akechi returned, eyes low and lip curled.
The canopy dripped with raindrops above them, water splashing against their shoes. Their night was coming to an end, and Akira knew Morgana was probably pacing around Leblanc as he awaited his return. And Akechi was right; at this rate, he would miss the last train to Yongen-Jaya.
And yet they stood there without an utterance of a sound.
Somewhere in the misted distance, one of the late-night shops turned on a radio, and a gentle melody began to play in the pattering, rain-filled air. The words of the song were barely tangible in the noise, but the symphony danced around the two boys and it made Akira’s blood start pumping. He dared to glance Akechi’s way and found the brunet’s gaze with his own.
If you need me, wanna see me
Better hurry 'cause I'm leaving soon
He just couldn’t help it; a smile graced his lips and before he knew it, Akira was slipping off his scarf and jacket onto the steps of Jazz Jin and stepping out from under the canopy. The rain immediately slid down his pearly cheeks, water splashing beneath each step he took out into the middle of the stone street. His hair flattened under the presence of the downpour, and all Akira could do in response was raise his arms out and bask in it. What caused him to do this, he wasn’t entirely sure. There was something about the entire atmosphere that felt surreal, and his feet simply moved accordingly.
He spun around with his arms out wide, shoes tapping against the stone bricks sleek with water and a smile wider than it had been in quite some time. The bright lights in the distance, the faint melody in the air… Despite everything he had experienced these past few months, there was something about that moment that made him feel at ease.
And he laughed. He laughed with the sound of the faint music in the distance, at the feeling of his underclothes getting absolutely soused in the stormy weather, and at the feeling of two arms snaking around his middle and a head full of dripping hair finding its way against his shoulder. Akira reciprocated the motion without hesitation, burying his face away in the locks of golden brown and, just this once, allowing himself to take what he could get and run as fast as he could with it. And with that, Goro and Akira spun in circles of muttered swears and stifled giggles until they were tripping over each other’s feet in the downpour. Cheeks were held, tears mixed with rain were wiped away, eye rolls were had, and laughs bounced through the storm-filled air. How long the two of them twirled and danced in the shower, Akira didn’t know. All he knew was that they were close, faces masked in the gloomy darkness and feelings breaking through the barriers. They enjoyed what could have been, had fate ever decided to spare them a bit of kindness.
Taste me, these salty tears on my cheeks
That's what a year-long headache does to you
At some point during their shared cavort, they fell in a tangle of limbs into the puddles they had splashed in, yelps of surprise squeezing from their lungs. And they sat there, Goro locked in Akira’s arms as their shared laughter came to an easing end.
Their gazes met again for the second time that night, charcoal eyes meeting velvety red ones. Akira felt the breath leave his body at the sight before him. At that moment, he didn’t see the traitorous Goro Akechi, once famed detective prince of Shibuya, puppet behind the mental shutdowns. He saw the red-cheeked, crinkled-eyed boy who had been dealt one of the shittest cards in life. He saw long, waterlogged hair stick against the pale skin of a hurting soul, and a hidden warmth beaming in the coldness of the thunderstorm. Akira saw something raw in that moment, and he wasn’t sure if Goro even realized how vulnerable he appeared right then. As if in cue, Goro reached a pair of gloved hands forward and removed the soaked black frames from the bridge of Akira’s nose.
Maybe that’s what made Akira lean forward and close the distance between them. And maybe Goro knew exactly what he was doing, for the way his bony fingers traced the exposed skin of Akira’s jugular as their lips clashed indicated there was a mutual itch for something to happen. Akira ate it up, hands trailing around the brunet’s shoulders and torso, searching for something, anything, to answer all of the burning questions in his mind. He was on cloud nine. The sweetness of Goro’s lips meshed with the saltiness of the raindrops, causing Akira to melt into a puddle of sheer bliss. Maybe it was the way Akira brushed stray strands of hair behind Goro’s ears that gave away all of his secrets, or the way he slipped his arms around the brunet’s torso that told Goro his forbidden list of helpless desires. Maybe it was the way that their teeth clanged together that ever so gently pleaded with him to seize the moment and hold it close for eternity. Maybe it was the way their despairing kiss ended abruptly with the swivel of Goro’s head, droplets sliding down the detective’s nose and falling onto Akira’s lap, that told him everything he needed to know. They were breathless. Akira was still desperate for more, yet each feeble attempt to get closer was met with turning cheeks and a fraught silence.
“Goro, please-”
“We can’t, Akira.”
Akira was quick to latch his hands around Goro’s, bringing them to his chapped lips and peppering gentle kisses across the brunet’s bruised knuckles. He was frantic, and he knew all of his cards were laid bare. He knew the high was ending, that the rain was putting out the small flame that had sparked with little shelter to help it kindle. Akira reached out a hopeless hand and cupped a cheek stained with tears and raindrops and found a face void of the emotions that were present mere seconds ago.
I'm not okay, I feel so scattered
Don't say I'm all that matters
Leave me, déjà vu
“Why can’t we? What’s stopping us? We can rewrite everything here. We can-” Akira’s voice caught in his throat, and he felt Goro’s hands tense in his free one before they broke free of his grasp. A dry laugh capered around their heads, and Akira felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.
“We can’t do anything here and you know that. It’s a waste of breath to even suggest changing what’s already been written.”
And there they sat, the distance between them significant, eyebrows furrowed and a mutual ache forever present in the stormy night. Akira sat there, numb to the sounds, the smells, the feeling of rain against his head and shoulders as Goro got to shaking feet. The faint taste of sweetness was still present around Akira’s lips as the brunet disappeared back around the canopy, reappearing moments later with his beige coat positioned over his head to act as protection against the ongoing downpour. Akira, still splayed raw against the ground, looked up to meet his gaze for the third time that night.
Those damn eyes. Red as wine, as dark and hollow as the night sky.
Perhaps it was the coldness they held in their depths that held Akira captive to the soaked brick road.
“We’re infiltrating Maruki’s palace soon, correct?” Despite the thundering raindrops that encased them, Goro’s voice was as clear as day. All Akira could do was nod feebly in response.
“Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you.”
Akira scrambled to get to his feet, abandoning the glasses that had been thrown aside on the pavement, hands and legs wobbling from neither cold nor the dampness of his clothes.
“Goro.”
He stumbled forward before Goro could turn to begin his trek to the subway station, and before Akira could stop himself, he leaned in and raised the beige coat higher above both of their heads with his arm. At the beginning of the year, Goro was taller than him by an inch or two, but now he found himself craning his neck downward to meet the brunet’s lips. Maybe it was the way they lingered together that allowed their mouths to scream in shared anguish, or maybe it was the way Akira’s free fingers threaded through a handful of Goro's sopping hair that pulled them apart. Akira’s nose trailed down the bridge of Goro’s, and his stomach turned when Goro’s vacant eyes merely stared off past him.
“... I’ll see you then, Kurusu.”
It was a stab to the gut, a slap to the face, a world-shattering moment that had Akira dropping the coat back into Goro’s still-raised hands. He backed up into the rain once again, expression faltering as the brunet took a slow step back and turned on his heel, sauntering down one of the many store-filled paths of Kichijoji.
Maybe that’s when the tears started to fall down Akira’s cheeks.
Call my friends and tell them that I love them
And I'll miss them
But I'm not sorry