Work Text:
One could argue that Goro has a tendency to jump to the worst case scenario every single time. One doesn’t apply to Goro himself, no, because he has every reason to be so hesitant to step inside Jazz Jin. It’s still one of his favorite places, yet, it’s almost like he should be prepared for his life to change. Before his thoughts get more convoluted, the door to the place opens, shattering Goro’s idealized scenario and accelerating his brain entirely.
“Sorry, we’re not open…” Muhen stops in his tracks, the way one would stare if they were seeing a ghost. Goro figures, maybe he is. “Akechi-kun?”
“Hello,” Goro says, polite and a little awkward. Don’t slip back into pleasantness and don’t be too snarky, he tries to remind himself. A dangerous line to walk. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Goro is met with a brief silence, Muhen still staring at him in pure disbelief. This was a mistake. He’s about to turn back around and promptly leave when he’s pulled into a hug. It’s strong and it’s quick, and when he pulls away, Muhen is grinning widely at him.
“It’s you! I’m so glad you’re okay!” he laughs, moving away to let him step in, and Goro’s baffled by this. At most, he expected him to remember who Goro was. This was beyond what he was anticipating. “I remember asking your friend about you, but before I knew it, he stopped showing up!”
Friend…? Oh, Akira. That’s one suitcase he’s not ready to unpack yet.
“I’m thankful you thought of me,” he says, and he oddly means it. “If you really were worried about me, I was—well, busy, you see.”
“I saw,” Muhen says. “The TV was pretty dramatic. The downfall of the Detective Prince, all kinds of headlines.”
Goro inhales briefly. He knew that would cause quite a stir. His therapist, however, strongly advised him to not seek out the articles or reactions. She reasoned with Goro over how stardom works, this would die out in about two weeks, and now—a good year later—he can say she was right.
“But I’m glad you’re away from all that now,” Muhen continues. “It’s good to see you, Akechi-kun. Your hair looks nice.”
He instinctively reaches up to touch his hair—or, well, lack of. He had cut it short, unlike how long it used to be, and he’s trying to get used to the free space on his neck. Needless to say, everything feels colder now, but it’s also a lot easier to get around with it now. Now he spends less time in front of the mirror while getting ready.
“Thank you. It means a lot,” he says, a little uncomfortable. It’s okay to admit feelings, you know, Akechi? is what his therapist would always say. Goro disliked it a lot at first, but now it’s… fine. Not the best, but not bad. “Anyhow, I… have noticed you are looking for a part-timer. I’m trying to get back into the groove of things, one could say. I thought this place is as good as any to start. Can we schedule an interview, perhaps…?”
Muhen’s smile is full of kindness. “You’re hired.”
“What?”
“Come on, we have to clean this place to open it tonight. Lend me a hand, will you, Akechi?”
Goro blinks at him. “But—you can’t just hire me like that!”
“Why not? I own the place.”
“That’s…” Muhen keeps his smile in place. Goro can’t help a chuckle. “Sure. I’ll start.”
“Okay, get your butt moving. These floors are in desperate need of a sweeping.”
He’s used to living alone, but going back to his place is slightly… upsetting. It’s the same as stepping into a literal hell. The place is both tidy and in complete chaos. He feels it, the lingering anxiety in this, the absolute misery everything emanates. Perhaps… coming back to this place wasn’t his sharpest idea.
It’s crazy, the way he can probably reconstruct every bad moment he had in this apartment. A corner where Goro remembers visibly shaking and staring at his hands like he was amazed they could tremble that much. Countless nights where he’d stay up watching the TV without really paying attention. A desk where he’d end up with a billion plans, executions, a kitchen where all he’s ever had has been shitty fast food and energy drinks like that could carry him through the day. It’s overwhelming.
No, no—that’s in the past. “That’s in the past,” he says out loud, willing the ghosts of the past to disappear. On one hand, going to therapy and spending those months in rehabilitation were not bad at all. On the other… actually getting to use everything he learned there is proving to be a hard task.
It gets easier the more you do it. Perhaps. Goro takes one deep breath and closes his eyes. He counts to ten and opens them once more, trying to get a new perspective of this room. It’s fine. Everything is fine. That was then, and this is now.
Most importantly, he needs some fucking dinner.
According to the countless self-care videos his therapist had recommended him after each session, cooking for yourself could be a nice way to start caring for yourself. Goro had never thought he didn’t care for himself. He made sure to at least always have some meals, to fill his shelves with vitamin supplements—he couldn’t catch himself slacking, could he? He wouldn’t be of use for anyone if he wasn’t performing correctly.
But were you caring for yourself, or for the Detective Prince?
Goro sighs. “Fuck this,” he says.
Well, nobody ever told him recovery was easy. It wasn’t linear. And coming to terms with issues did not seem to be the easiest task. It was good in theory, but hard in practice. Hard didn’t mean it would be impossible, though.
“What is something I’d like?” he ponders. Not something nutritious that could get him in his best performance. Not fancy food that could impress his older colleagues. Maybe… “Curry, perhaps?”
Akira Kurusu’s phone number sits prettily on his phone. He could call him, couldn’t he? It’s odd, but for some reason—after everything that happened—Akira is still the one person he looks forward to seeing. The one person who he still wants to see. Curry is such a characteristic of him—the plates he’s made for him always linger on his mind, and Goro figures he has enough ingredients to attempt to do one for himself.
It could never taste like Akira’s, though. Again, he could call him. If anything, perhaps… that idiot would be happy to hear him. He fights off a smile even though no one can see him. Akira. What an absolute fool.
Curry it is, then.
The YouTube video is extremely helpful to guide Goro, and his curry looks not bad. It’s decent enough, and when he eats it, it’s warm and it’s filling. It’s a lot better than cheap instant food, for sure, but it still couldn’t rival Akira’s very own. Wasn’t that funny? His own rival was better than him at cooking.
How do you feel about Kurusu-kun? his therapist had asked him, kindly. It seems like his name comes up often in these sessions.
Goro ponders that question again. It’s so much easier to say that he hates him. It’s so much easier to group his feelings for him with hatred. The idiot—wishing Goro into an alternate reality. Absolute fool, indeed. He grabs his phone as he eats, opening his messages, and looking at his and Akira’s last conversation. It wasn’t anything deep—just a simple question from Akira, if he was free to meet up. Goro wasn’t, but he still agreed to meet him. He always found himself like that; having no time to do anything, however, as soon as he got a text, he’d be free.
Sure, it could be easier to say he hates him. It’s an outdated feeling, perhaps.
Perhaps he misses him.
Is he still in town? What would he think of Goro’s hair, or the fact that he’s back? Maybe he’d be mad at him for not communicating earlier. Maybe he wouldn’t want to talk to him again. Or maybe… maybe Akira would smile at him, like he expected to see him, and casually say in that tone of his: “I still have your glove, you know.”
The name Akira Kurusu reads on top of the screen.
He’d text him soon. Just a little more.
“You’re getting quite good at this,” Muhen hums as he watches Goro make another drink. Goro tries to turn off the part of his brain that searches for validation immediately.
“If you don’t watch out, perhaps I’ll end up becoming the new boss,” he laughs, and it makes Muhen laugh, too.
It’s definitely weird how lucky he got with this place. It’s been a month or so since he’s started working at Jazz Jin, and it still blows his mind: what he came to consider a safe zone became his new workplace. Didn’t that sound… suspicious? How could Goro get so lucky that the owner liked him?
It sets off a few alarms in Goro’s mind. Perhaps this was simply a trick. There could be a silly little side of Muhen that believed that the former Detective Prince would be a good face to promote his club. Who wouldn’t want to see a fallen star working as a bartender? It would certainly make for a nice story. I met Goro Akechi at Jazz Jin. He’s a bartender now!
Ha, pitiful end for a pitiful star.
Isn’t that hilarious? He was so high up and now he’s so far down. Nobody knows who he is anymore.
Goro swallows a little. How did he turn off his thoughts again? Talk them out? Analyzing them objectively?
“I have a question,” Goro starts. “Did you have any… motives to hire me? Is it… out of pity, or…?”
He half-expects Muhen to get mad. Goro stands firm, not letting his feelings get the best of him. Muhen offers him a warm smile, which throws him off entirely. Could it be that he became really bad at reading people? How come he can’t predict how someone will react now? It used to be so easy with Shido—
Abort thought.
“Oh, definitely not pity,” Muhen says simply, cleaning a cup and putting it back. “I’ve always kept an eye on you, you know? It’s weird for high schoolers to come alone to a club. Every time, you seemed friendly and smart, and… maybe lonely. You seemed to like it here, though. It’d be my pleasure to help you feel comfortable.”
Goro purses his lips. That’s… maybe, half-pity. It’s still not the answer Goro had expected. “Do you always read your clients like that?”
“When you meet as many people as I do, it comes easily. Am I wrong?”
He chuckles, “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“You’ll see, the longer you work here, the better you’ll get at reading people.” Muhen pats him on his back, like he’s proud of him. “It’s good to have you here, Akechi.”
Something forms on his throat. “Thank you. I—Well, I am glad to be here, as well.”
Muhen continues, “By the way, have you used your money for anything cool yet?”
“Oh, I’m saving my payments,” Goro replies. “I wanted to buy new furniture for my apartment, you know. It’d be careless of me to shamelessly throw all my money away at once.”
“Smart kid. Make sure to treat yourself every now and then, you hear?” he says in a tone that doesn’t sound like he’s scolding him. More like… Goro could assume he’s being looked after. “Stay for dinner tonight, after we close.”
“We close so late, I’d be tempted to call it breakfast.”
“Smart-ass.”
Goro laughs again.
Every shift here was as pleasant as visiting it. He’s always liked Jazz Jin—everything about the place has always felt comfortable, even when most of the time, his life wasn’t comfortable at all. One of the best things about being back and not having—well— all the baggage in the world, it’s that he has a new perspective of the club.
As Muhen said, it comes with the job to stare at your clients and attempt to read them. Some of them talk to Goro, like they’ve been friends forever. Some of them sit on a table with their drinks, listening to their wonderful singer and live band. Their faces always tell more than what Goro could read, and briefly, he realizes at one point—that had been him.
How different did he look when he came with Akira? Did he look… happier?
He’s still the only person Goro has ever invited to a special place like this, and he still wouldn’t change that. His mind wanders back to the contact on his phone. What would Akira say to him now? Would he sit on the other end of the stool, waiting for Goro to get off from his shift? Would he make a comment about how they have similar jobs, and thus he wouldn’t lose to Goro when it came to making drinks?
Or maybe he’d sit at a table by himself, as Goro worked, eyes closed and absorbed by the music, worried about his own things. It’s not a secret that the Leader of the Phantom Thieves had always many more things inside than what he said. Goro knew about some of his concerns, not all of them, but enough to know not everything is what it looks.
The singer soothingly begins her song, carrying Goro’s thoughts with her. He’s taken back to different times; sitting next to Akira, disclosing things about himself that no one else should know.
Who’s better to keep secrets than your own rival, isn’t that right?
I still have his number. I can text him.
Not now. It’s still not the right time.
Dinner is very pleasant. Goro can’t remember the last time he ate with an adult and didn’t feel a weight crushing him, fixating on his every little movement, making sure he didn’t give himself away as a child. Muhen doesn’t seem to mind. They’re eating with the band, Goro in the middle of them all, and it’s…
Well.
Goro would dare say it feels like a small family.
His chest tightens.
Someone ruffles his hair as they pass drinks between them, and it’s like he’s disconnected from them briefly. Not a single person here knows how Goro must feel right now. It feels like he should run away, fast, fend for himself. He’s the only person who’s ever looked after him. He shouldn’t give in to false hopes like these.
Muhen meets his eyes across the table, smiles at him, and Goro exhales involuntarily.
It’s fine. He’s fine.
At his apartment, later, he gets a text at three in the morning.
His breath catches. It’s always—it’s always Shido who texted at that hour—
[Muhen]: Thank you for having dinner with us. Sorry we stayed so late. You’re free to skip tomorrow’s shift, I won’t deduct it from your paycheck. :)
This time, the tears almost spill out of him as relief washes over.
He’s okay. He’s free from that.
If he cries, well, no one is there to confirm it.
After a few months, his apartment… it makes him happy, that’s the truth. The new furniture was an excellent change of atmosphere—in a way, it feels like he’s built something new out of something terrible. He remembers it’s advice he used to receive, too, to grab a bad moment and to turn it neutral— turning it neutral was easier than instantly making it happy.
He snaps a picture of his new room. It even feels less lonely, to have all these new things.
He wishes he had someone to show it to, though.
Then it hits him: he does.
His fingers hover over his keyboard, staring at the screen reading “Akira Kurusu — last seen five minutes ago.” Goro bites his lip. A hello is too formal, an apology is unwarranted, a single emoji is out of character. This shouldn’t be hard. Things aren’t hard with Akira. That’s it. Things aren’t hard with him.
Goro selects the picture and sends it with the caption, “I remade my room.”
He watches the change from “Akira Kurusu — last seen five minutes ago” to “Akira Kurusu — online” and feels like time slows down.
Akira
is this a prank?
if so: not funny.
Talk about an unexpected response. Maybe he thinks Goro changed his number…?
Oh.
Maybe he thinks Goro wasn’t even alive to begin with.
Me
It’s me.
Akira
this really isn’t funny
can you prove it?
Me
Would you rather have a picture or a phone call?
I’m down for either.
Almost immediately, his phone rings. The name Akira Kurusu reads on his screen again, and Goro wastes one second before picking up. “It’s me.”
“Holy shit,” Akira says. His voice—Goro is hit with an intense wave of relief upon hearing him. It’s weird. It’s like he’s found something that was missing. “Akechi. Holy shit. What the fuck.”
“Are… you okay?” Goro asks, dubious, “You are not the swearing type.”
“Shut the fuck up for a second,” Akira continues. It sounds like he might be pacing around his room. “You—you’re alive?”
Just like Goro predicted. “Yes.”
“You… oh my God,” Akira makes an incredulous noise. Like he’s laughing and crying at the same time. “Shit, Akechi. I have so much explaining to do to my therapist.”
He can’t help his own laugh. “Well, fuck. I guess both of our therapists know about the other.”
“Why didn’t you reach out sooner? It’s been—I don’t know. Seven? Eight months? A year? You know I could kill you myself for disappearing like that.”
“Well, I’d like to see you try.”
“Don’t flirt with me! You were dead to me fifteen minutes ago!”
Goro doesn’t know what to say. He owes Akira an explanation, at best. “I haven’t been hiding on purpose,” he says. “I’ve been getting help.”
“Therapy?”
“Yes. I’ve been at a rehabilitation center. A few months ago, I came back to this place… and got a job.”
“A job.”
“Jazz Jin.”
Akira laughs. It’s a pleasing sound. “Sounds just like you.”
There’s a pause. He hears Akira breathing, sniffling, and then continuing, “I’m back at home.”
He knows what that means, but still asks, “Leblanc?”
“No, no. I came back to the countryside,” he explains. Knowing he’s so far away somehow tugs at Goro. “I think I’ll go back soon.”
“How soon?”
“Are you eager to see me?” Goro wishes Akira could see him roll his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe a month or so. I have to finish my exams first.”
That’s so normal. Akira has to finish his exams, Goro has a job. They’re so fucking normal now. If that was the case, then why did he still feel like this when talking to Akira?
“I’d… be pleased to see you, if you came back,” Goro grits out.
“You can sound happier to say that, you know.”
Wasn’t he crying a second ago? He’s still such a mystery sometimes.
“It’s nice to talk to you again.”
“That’s an understatement on my side,” Akira continues, sounding at last a little calm. “Akechi. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m really glad you’re okay. You know that, right?”
“You wished me into your stupid reality,” Goro says. It’s less bitter now. “I got the impression you’d be happy I’m alive.”
“Happy is an understatement,” Akira says again. “I… really need to make a therapy appointment. I have so much explaining to do.”
“I apologize for being alive.”
“Fuck you.” But he laughs either way. “I, uhm. I have to be with my thoughts for a while. I’ll… text you later. Don’t disappear or anything.”
His smile feels soft. “Sure. Good-bye, Akira.”
Akira hangs up without saying good-bye.
Akira
you’re still here?
It’s been an hour. He’s having dinner right now.
Me
Still here.
Akira
holy fucking shit.
Me
I’ve got to say, I’m a little flattered.
I didn’t know my presence was so fucking incredible.
Akira
back from the dead, still a jerk
just your everyday akechi
Goro can’t help his smile.
Akira
we have a lot to catch up on
do you want to watch a movie with me
Me
I’m afraid you’re… not here. I don’t know how we’d watch a movie.
Akira
netflixparty
obviously
Me
What the fuck is Netflixparty?
Akira
…
grandpa
Me
Fuck you.
Akira
i missed you too
get on call and i’ll explain
grandpa
“Who are you texting so much, huh?” Muhen asks out of nowhere, making him almost drop his phone. “Girlfriend?”
“Not a girl,” Goro answers smoothly. “Do you perhaps remember the guy who came with me here?”
Muhen’s smile turns soft and understanding. Goro isn’t sure why. “You still talk to him?”
“He’s impossible to get rid of,” he says. “Very annoying.”
“You don’t sound annoyed.”
“Either way,” Goro continues pointedly ignoring that, “I apologize for the distraction. I’ll mute him now.”
“That’s the way to get ‘em, kid. Make them miss you.”
“I—” Goro shakes his head. “Don’t ever say that again.”
Muhen breaks into laughter.
Me
You’re distracting me from my work.
I’ll be back.
Akira
see
this is how it feels when you can’t shut up
and i’m making coffee in leblanc
it’s the same feeling
it’s called karma
Me
Can’t hear you. You’re muted.
Akira
you wound me.
deeply so.
extremely so
“Okay, I’m done with him,” he slips his phone back into his pocket as he turns his attention to the bar.
It’s been a good day, really. These days, his therapy appointments are once a month, and his therapist seemed glad to find out he’s reconnected with Akira. She was ecstatic about his job and his new furniture, and all in all, it was a pleasant experience.
Are things really… getting better?
It knocks the air out of him. It seems to be common to get these realizations mid-work, but he cannot help it.
Music calmly plays in the room. There are couples sitting together, people who just came from work, everyone from everywhere. Goro blinks, hard. He’s there. He’s there.
With his shift done, Goro finally checks his phone again.
Akira
just when I was about to tell you i’m going back next week </3
i got my parents to agree to let me move in with boss and futaba
:)
Things truly were getting better.
Me
Next week?
What day?
Akira
oh it’s mr. busy
who still has time for me amongst his busy schedule
Me
Get to the point, Akira.
Akira
pushy much?
monday.
Goro hovers over his keyboard again. He wants to ask to meet-up already, but… that’s a little too fast.
Akira
i wanted to know if you were free to visit
after i go to boss’ place i could...drop by to visit you
Me
I’d like that.
Would you like to have lunch?
Akira
i’m cooking
no objections.
Me
sighs
Do you have a list of ingredients you want me to buy.
Akira
i’m so glad you asked <3
Monday has Goro pacing back and forth inside his own apartment, cleaning up everything and going over the ingredients he bought just in case he missed something.
Akira should be here at any time.
He’s never been nervous to meet him before, not even when Akira was the one asking him first, not even when Goro kept inviting him everywhere. Would he look different? Would everything be different now that they were actually interacting, instead of a phone call or a text?
A few knocks on his door makes him jump out of his skin. So punctual, isn’t he?
“Coming,” he calls. He puts his hand on the doorknob and hesitates. This is it. Akira is here. He sucks in a breath and opens it. “Hello.”
Akira looks familiar and yet, it feels like it’s the first time he’s seen him. His glasses are resting on his head, and his hair is a tiny bit longer than before—and fluffier than ever.
“You…” is all Akira says. He blinks, like it hits him that Goro really is alive, and a second later he’s being pulled into the tightest hug he’s ever had.
Goro hugs him back after a second. “You’re breaking my bones.”
“You deserved it,” Akira jokes, but it’s muffled against his neck. He sounds like he’s going to cry again. He does loosen up his hold on him, moving his arms to his waist instead. “I—I can’t believe…”
It is exhilarating to have Akira like this. He fits right in. He’s still against Goro, not willing to let go, and to be honest, Goro doesn’t want to let him go either. This is overdue, and it’s been so long.
“Are you shaking?” Akira asks him. “Or is it me?”
Goro may have started shaking. “I… it appears that I am.”
Akira laughs, tearily. “I missed you so much.”
“…Me too.”
He separates himself from Akira a bit, enough to look at him. His hand ends behind his neck, and it’s crazy that this is his life. This is happening. Goro doesn’t have any ulterior motives behind this, and Akira is simply… Akira. They can be them for once, no Gods, no metaverse, not anything between them.
He doesn’t know who leans first when they kiss, but they are, and it takes everything inside him to not explode.
Just like that, Akira pulls away, smiling. “Did you get everything I asked you to buy?”
Goro blinks, disoriented. “Um.”
“The list.”
“Oh, yes. I did. Are you making curry?”
“Yup.”
“I must say, the way I tried cooking it certainly… was not as enjoyable as your food.”
Akira is just holding his hand. It’s…nice.
“Well, yeah. I’m the best one at this.”
Goro frowns. “Don’t be a jerk.”
“I learned from you.”
“Very funny.” Goro watches as he washes his hands. Everything still feels a little surreal. “I intend to learn the most I can today so I can surpass you.”
Akira grins. “Sure. We’ve got all the time in the world.” He digs inside his pocket and casually throws him his glove, like that doesn’t mean the world to Goro. “Better keep up, rival.”
Goro laughs, bright and genuine. They really have all the time in the world.