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Unlike all the previous times they'd come here, the neon lights of the lounge felt too bright and oppressive. Something about the air felt heavier than normal, and Akira didn't have to guess why.
Mid November, less than a week before the proposed deadline for stealing Sae's heart, and the late fall chill wasn't the only reason Akira felt cold. He stood still, eyes following Goro as the detective paced around the pool table. His leather-clad hands clenched the cue stick just too tightly to be natural. Right hand, of course. The stubborn boy had kept true to his word, refusing to play against Akira left-handed until he won. And Akira hadn't even come close, not before tonight.
He watched as Goro lined up a shot, and was so focused on the tremble of Goro's fingers that it took a minute for it to register that the brunette was speaking.
"...know what I mean?" the tail end of Goro's words filtered into Akira’s ears.
Akira tipped his head ever so slightly. No one else would have caught it. Goro scoffed and shook his head, reading Akira's non expressions easily enough to disconcert the thief, as always.
"Zoning out during a competition? Honestly, if you aren't taking this seriously, then don't bother answering my texts."
Akira flushed slightly, fiddling with the ends of his bangs, "I was distracted. You're distracting. Repeat yourself?"
Goro shook his head, hair falling like a curtain, shielding his face from scrutinizing eyes as he leaned over the pool table. As slowly and deliberately as he bent over, Akira still found himself too lost in Goro's words to be distracted by his figure.
"So very hopeless…" Goro murmured, tapping his stick against the table, "but most things are, aren't they? The most carefully laid plans fail to account for unforeseen damages."
The gentle clack of pool balls knocking against one another, Akira watched the solid colors knock helplessly against each other, too soft to actually make it into a pocket. Goro stared at the table like it had personally wronged him.
"Things happen," he said, voice coming out in a broken whisper, "often times, aiming for one target leads to hitting others you never intended."
He straightened up, glancing towards Akira, "this wasn't the outcome I'd hoped for."
There was a beat of silence. Akira walked up and readied his shot, taking his time. The implications hung heavy in the air, words Goro refused to say, words Akira wondered if he even realized he was alluding to. But of course he did, he was Goro Akechi. Goro Akechi never implied anything by mistake.
Akira took a slow, deep breath, ruminating over his own reply. Tip-toeing through the shattered glass of their conversations, one wrong step meant dire consequences. He lined up the cue stick.
"I don't worry about those things," Akira said, firm, about ten times more confident than he felt.
There was the satisfying clack of ball on ball, he watched triumphantly as his last stripe rolled into the pocket.
"I never miss my mark."
There was a tense silence after that. A moment where nothing at all was said. Akira straightened, looking dead on at Goro, waiting for him to respond. The brunette had a strange look on his face. Some expression between surprise and hunger.
The detective took a breath, eyes searching, "...you win. Congratulations."
Akira nodded once, silent, and Goro began cleaning up. He had an oddly distant look as he tidied up, "even if it was against my self imposed handicap, that was rather impressive. Perhaps I truly did underestimate you, Akira."
Akira took the sticks to put up, "hm. Don’t you always?"
He didn't get a reply to that.
The two left after that, walking down the stairs, Akira close behind Goro. Something Akira had noticed after all this time was that, for all Goro rambled, he didn't actually fill the air with meaningless words. He didn't seem to like small talk, no matter the tangents he went off on, it was clear he had a point somewhere in there. Maybe that was why it surprised Akira so much when Goro mumbled, almost aimlessly, "chilly out tonight."
Akira walked out onto the sidewalk and looked up, the twinkling sky subdued by the light pollution of the streetlights. He nodded slightly.
Goro shoved his hands in his pockets, standing close to the thief, his eyes filled with a question Akira couldn't even begin to guess at. He looked away again, staring out into the mostly empty streets, "... Don't forget to drink water. You're bad about that."
"No worse than you," Akira replied, smirking a bit.
"Well I never told you to emulate me, now did I, sheep?" Goro scoffed.
Akira nudged his shoulder, "Oh whatever, here, I never forget to grab an extra, you could certainly use it."
Akira produced a water bottle from his coat pocket, something he'd never admit that Morgana had actually packed for him. He really did have another one though, and Goro just didn't drink nearly enough for someone who sweat so easily.
Goro took the water from Akira's hand, looking at it like it was the urn of a beloved family member. His mouth tightened, and his eyes narrowed in a rare show of genuine sadness. Akira was about to ask if he was okay, but Goro cut him off.
"Leave them," he said it coldly, firmly. He shoved the bottle in his pocket and turned, eyes a blaze of ruby red as he grasped onto Akira's sleeve, pulling him closer. "What do they even have to offer? Let's just go. You could come with me, we could run."
His eyes were burning. Bright and shining like an untamed forest-fire roaring. Akira swallowed thickly, unable to look away. The streetlamp bathed them both in an artificial orange glow, the stark light and dark shadows cast Goro's face in harsh lines, the tight line of his mouth all but hidden by the shadow cast by his limply hanging hair. His head was slightly bowed, even as his eyes bore into Akira's, drilling straight through his protective lenses and somehow finding his eyes without needing to see them. Goro was always like that, always looking through Akira, prying out what little sincerity he could from the thief's well guarded facades.
Akira remained silent, the sounds of the night life around them all blending into meaningless noise as Goro gripped Akira's sleeve a little harder, his gloved hand trembling against the fabric. He'd never seen his rival looking so utterly desperate. The detective repeated himself, seeming dissatisfied with Akira's lack of a response.
"Akira. Did you hear me?" his grip wasn't even tight, but Akira felt pain in his bones nonetheless. Goro pressed harder, "I want you to come with me. I don't want… I don't want to continue how we are, unwitting obstacles in one another's path. We were always more than that, and I refuse to repeat myself again. Forget about your selfish friends, I want you to be with me. "
Direct truths weren't something either of them were familiar with. Goro still wasn't saying everything, of course, but the statement was more blunt and open than Akira ever expected from him. A clear indication that this, if nothing else, wasn't a game to him. He was dead serious, and his intent was crystal clear. His eyes and trembling hands pleaded with the thief. 'Don't make me kill you', they urged.
Akira didn't know how to handle it. He didn't want Goro to kill him either, even if this plan succeeded and it wasn't really him Goro killed, it would be real to him. It would be an end to things as they were now. Even if they both come out of this unscathed, which Akira doubted would happen, it would surely be the death of the meaningful bond they'd fostered together.
Akira wanted to take his hand. He wanted to grab it and hold tight and never let go. Goro's rivalry, his companionship, had always been worth more to Akira than he could ever put to words. Even his friends didn't understand. A small, selfish part of Akira wanted to tell Goro yes, that he'd run with him. That they'd run together and never look back, even if the paths they left crumbled behind them.
He couldn't, though. He and Goro were fated to meet, fated to be whatever it was they were. Enemies, opponents, rivals. But Akira always had a nagging feeling eating away at him, something that told him that the universe was conspiring against them. It told him that he and Goro were probably supposed to have stayed enemies, plotting and scheming to best the other once and for all. And that this tightness in Akira's chest that he feared might be love… it wasn't supposed to exist. Goro wasn't supposed to be looking at him with pleading eyes and holding onto him with a wanting hand. Akira wasn't supposed to want to go with him. And in the end, no matter what either of them wanted, they had chains around their ankles and puppeteer's strings pulled tight around their necks. A fate they may have chosen on their own, but now they were ensnared.
Akira was bound by his promises, The weight of responsibility and his sense of loyalty to his friends were the chains he couldn't unshackle, and he wasn't even sure he'd really want to if he could. He just wished with all his heart that he could free Goro from his own chains.
He realized it had been at least five minutes, and Goro was still looking at him expectantly, his gaze demanding an answer, growing more impatient with each passing second.
Akira pulled his sleeve free of Goro's fingers, and moved to twine their hands together instead, "... If we could… where would we go?"
It wasn't an answer.
And entreating Goro's wishful thinking probably wasn't healthy. But Akira was angry and exhausted with reality. He knew he couldn't escape it, he couldn't prevent the catastrophic demise about to befall their precarious relationship, but maybe he could be allowed to dream about a future that didn't exist. Just for tonight.
Akira half expected Goro to yank his hand free, chide him for not just answering the damn question, maybe yank on his bangs for good measure. But… he didn't. He just squeezed Akira's hand in his, turned, and began moving at a leisurely pace down the sparsely populated streets of Kichijoji.
"That's not a bad question," Goro mumbled, putting his free hand to his chin, "We obviously couldn't stay at our current residences, too many people would be looking for us. Perhaps we could get on a train out of Tokyo and see where it goes. There's always been something rather thrilling to me about the unknown."
Akira smiled, just a bit, a little relieved that Goro had decided to play along for now. And if it meant spending one more night with him, one last chance for Akira to pretend things were fine between them, he'd take it.
"You want us to be train hobos?" Akira teased, walking along beside Goro, admiring the way the streetlight gave his hair a golden glow, and pushing down his anger at being betrayed, just for tonight.
Goro scoffed, turning down one of the many shop-lined alleys, "hardly. I do have a bank account. Don't tell me you're so frivolous with your funds that you wouldn't be able to live off of them for awhile."
Akira hummed in thought, pulling Goro towards a stand selling meat buns, "I'm not frivolous at all," he replied, then turned towards the vendor, "two pork buns, please."
He paid for the food and pushed one into Goro's hand with a little grin, "I bet you'll like these. They're a lot better fresh."
Goro's nose wrinkled, "I imagine anything would taste better when it hasn't been sitting in your metaverse supply kit for a week." he took a small bite of the bun, and while his expression didn't change, Akira could see his shoulders relax just slightly.
Akira took a bite of his own and started walking again, pulling Goro along beside him. They wandered down the alley, contentedly quiet as they ate their food and took in the entertaining sight of people drunkenly stumbling out of various drink stalls.
After they hit the main street again, Goro spoke, "Where are we going, anyway? It's getting rather late, you know, and you still haven't actually-"
"Where would you go next?" Akira interrupted.
Goro's brow furrowed in confusion, and he didn't look any less confused as they approached the train station, "where… next? Hmph. Far. As far as possible."
Akira stopped by the station entrance, thinking it over. They couldn't run, not really, not far enough for it to make a difference at least. But if he was playing pretend for tonight, then maybe…
"How does the beach sound?" Akira said, not really asking as much as informing Goro of his plan.
Goro opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shoved the empty wrapping in his pocket and said, "I suppose it's not a terrible first stop."
"And so late at night, I doubt many people will be there," Akira pointed out.
"Not to mention it's practically winter, you imbecile."
Despite his sassing, Goro made no attempt to actually stop Akira from dragging him onto the mostly empty train to the beach. He also let Akira pay for both tickets, rude.
Soon the two were sitting, side by side, and Akira found himself staring at the profile of Goro's face as the other looked out the window. The tunnel lights flashed by in intervals, like a heartbeat of color across his otherwise colorless face. Akira didn't even know what he was doing really, he just knew he needed this brief escape. They probably both did.
Fingers brushed the back of one of Goro's gloves, drawing the detective's gaze back to him. Akira smiled at him with the affection of a person who didn't know the truth of their situation. "If we ran away, what would you want to do?"
"What sort of question is that?" Goro retorted, crossing his arms and looking back out the window. His words were chilly, but the distant look in his eye told Akira he was just keeping his real thoughts inside. Typical.
"Me, you didn't ask?" Akira plowed on, a bulldozer haphazardly mowing down everything in its path, aiming to bust down walls he couldn't climb. "I'd want to find us somewhere nice to live. Maybe we'd get shitty minimum wage jobs, since we wouldn't be able to finish school. But it'd probably be enough to live on."
Akira found himself smiling softly, more looking past Goro than at him, even as he was made aware of a crimson gaze on him. Akira continued, "maybe we could only afford a studio apartment, but I'm sure I could convince you to deal with sharing a bed. I'd make us coffee in the morning, and happily listen to you bitch about the neighbors. We'd probably need to have fake names, like Ren and Kotaro, or something. Or would we just need to change our surnames? What do you think of Sato? Or maybe Amamiya?"
Goro was fully staring at him by that point, eyes shining with an emotion Akira couldn't place. His eyes looked glassy, distant, and whatever Akira thought he would say, it wasn't, "Shimizu. I'm partial to Shimizu. You do look quite like a Ren Amamiya, though."
Akira felt the barest flicker of warmth in his chest, "So, Kotaro Shimizu? I dunno, it might be difficult to remember two whole new surnames, wouldn't picking one for both of us be easier?"
Goro exhaled sharply through his nose, "and have people assume I'm related to you? I don't think so."
Akira's hand curled, squeezing Goro's gently, "I wouldn't say related. "
Goro pursed his lips, trying to look at though the thought annoyed him. The high blush on his cheeks was really negating the pissy look, though.
"Shimizu, then," he finally said, "since you're too stupid to recall multiple names."
Akira grinned just a little wider, "I'll gladly take your name, honey."
Goro rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. Akira assumed it to try and hide the fact he was turning red up to his ears. Akira was suddenly overcome with the urge to pull him close and kiss him so hard that his blush would cover his whole body. He felt a little pang in his heart, trying desperately to beat back reality as it rudely tried to push its way into his thoughts. He didn't want to think about how he'd never have the chance to debate with Goro over who took what name. Tonight might be the last time he got to do anything at all like this.
Sometimes Akira wondered if things might be different if either of them had the balls to make their romance official, but deep down, he was pretty sure it wouldn't have mattered. Sure, they had gone to dinner together and shared some heated moments in places where it definitely wasn't appropriate, but they'd always had an unspoken agreement about their relationship. Akira liked to playfully call it 'enemies with benefits'. Goro never laughed when he called them that. Especially not right after messing around. But maybe it was less Akira's terrible jokes, and more so that the title was just… a little too accurate.
Even if they had more respect than enemies, even if neither really wanted the other dead, even if they ran away together… fate forced their hands.
The train came to a stop, and Goro stood first. He offered a hand to Akira, and the thief instinctively took it. The two got off the train together and walked in relative silence to the ocean. It was late, and this far from the city, Akira could see a blanket of stars shining bright above them. They stopped walking when the dirt beneath their feet turned to muddy sand, and Akira knelt, begging to untie his boots.
"What are you doing now?" Goro asked in mock irritation.
"I don't want sand in these, they're good boots," Akira replied, "you might want to take off those stupid loafers too."
"And let the sand touch my skin? I think not," Goro huffed, crossing his arms, "why did we even come here?"
"Because, it's beautiful," Akira replied truthfully, then added, "and it's isolated. I just felt like getting away for a bit, you know?"
Goro tucked a lock of hair behind his hair, staring out at the endless ocean instead of looking back at Akira. There was an empty silence between them for a minute, and then Goro knelt down, rolled up his pants, and began removing his shoes. Akira was just watching with this huge, lopsided grin. A look that earned him a ball of wet sand to the face.
"Don't look so smug!" Goro huffed, dusting off his gloves before removing them both and shoving them in his jacket pocket.
Akira spat and coughed, shaking his head as a seemingly endless amount of sand shook itself from his hair. He failed to wipe all of the stubborn grains from his lenses, considering his shirt was now also covered in sand, and finally gave up, stuffing the glasses into his own pocket.
"That was low! I got sand in my mouth, asshole!" Akira protested, grabbing a handful of sand himself and lobbing it at Goro.
The detective, who Akira knew better than he thought, who was a trained killer and was more than likely about to carry out a plan to kill Akira, let out the highest, most childish squeal Akira had ever heard.
He shook his head hard, sending sand flying everywhere, "How dare you!" he snapped, "If I'm seen in public looking like this, I'll… I'll have your head!"
Akira grinned wider, recklessly hurling another sand ball at Goro, "Good thing you won't have to worry about the public when you're on the run, then!"
Goro looked up at him swiftly, so swiftly that the sand hit him straight in his half-open mouth. Akira's eyes widened, Goro's did too.
He spit out as much sand as he could, then let out an angry shriek that sounded much cuter than any hitman had the right to. He threw off his jacket and loosened his tie, eyeing Akira with what the thief might call a predatory look.
Akira turned heel, trying to get some sort of head start, but the sand was thick and wet so close to the freezing waves, and his bare feet had no purchase against the slick ground. He let out a startled yell as a boy roughly his size crashed into him, knocking him face first into the damp earth.
Akira felt a hand on the back of his head, and let out a muffled shriek as his face was mercilessly rubbed against the sand. Goro was laughing above him, bright and loud, little snorts escaping him as he finally relented, letting Akira roll onto his back. When the thief was unable to rub the sand from his eyes, he felt dry cloth against his face, Goro wiping his eyes with his tie.
Akira blinked his mostly clear eyes open, and was rewarded with the most beautiful sight in the world. Goro was still straddling his frame, resting most of his weight on Akira's torso, his hair haloed by the moon. His expression was nowhere close to gentle for a normal person, sure, but the way he beamed triumphantly down at Akira, his eyes sparkling with the joy of a petty victory even as he held a now ruined tie in one hand… it was the most tender expression Akira thought his dear rival had ever mustered.
"I win," Goro grinned, a soft laugh bubbling up through his words, "I can't believe you thought out running me would ever work. Just how stupid are you, Akira?"
Akira stared up at him, mouth open in silent awe. He once again failed to fully stifle the growing pit of unease in his stomach, and was relentlessly tormented with internal reminders of the days to come. His eyes softened, and his smile turned sad, "You're right, I can't ever outrun you."
Goro's quiet, breathy giggling died in his throat, seeming to feel the weight of Akira's tone. The sparkling light in his eyes went out, like he'd just recalled where they were. It hurt to see it, Akria wanted that light back, he wanted to huddle in its warmth and ignore the raging blizzard of the real world threatening to freeze him solid.
Goro flopped off of Akira, landing on his back in the sand next to him. All complaints of sandy hair and ruined appearances completely forgotten as he stared up at the stars. Akira reached out, resting his hand on the one Goro still clutched his tie in. Akira thought his hand was cold, and squeezed a little tighter.
He joined Goro in staring up at the infinite sky, wishing he could fall into it.
He turned his head to the side, and Goro did the same. The brunette spoke again, softly, "You're a real challenge of a person, you know that? Frustrating, confusing, utterly hopeless in a lot of ways…"
Akira said nothing, the way Goro's eyes crinkled and shone with a restrained wetness was enough to make the thief's heart seize in his chest. The other teen looked so vulnerable, so wanting and lonely and thoroughly defeated. And it really drove it home for Akira, they weren't even adults, either of them. They were just doing their best, surviving in a world far too ruthless for people as young and inexperienced as they were. But they had no say in it, just like they had no say in this.
Goro, seeming to read his mind yet again, asked quietly, "you're going to say no, aren't you?"
Akira shifted closer, not caring how the sand would be impossible to scrub from his jeans, and let go of Goro's hand in favor of grabbing his shoulders. He pulled the other close, bridging the short gap and pressing their lips together. Goro's cold fingers pushed into Akira's hair and tugged him forward, kissing back with just as much urgency.
Akira pulled away hesitantly, hands still resting on Goro's shoulders, praying to a God he knew wasn't listening that he might be able to hold on for just a little bit longer.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, "We could never run away together. We're rivals, Goro."
There was a gleam in Goro's eyes, a flicker of understanding that hardened into stone. He slowly stood, dusting absolutely none of the sand off of himself, and offered Akira a hand up. When Akira took it, he was pulled not only to his feet, but into an embrace. One of the exceedingly rare times Goro had initiated contact in this way.
The detective leaned in close, squeezing Akira tight as he whispered in his ear, "Don't you dare disappoint me."
Then he pulled back, spared one more raw, far too painfully open look Akira's way, and walked away. Akira watched him go. He watched Goro gather his jacket and shoes, watched as he put on neither and walked barefoot through the grass, back towards the train. He watched until he couldn't see him at all, until he was out of reach.