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Most days, when Goro gets home, he slips out of his shoes, sets his briefcase by the door, and tosses his keys on the couch where he’ll eventually move it to the coffee table before it can get lost between the cushions. On days like this, where he returns just as the evening sky comes to life, he’ll find something in his freezer and stuff it in a microwave, use that to tide him over either for the night or until either a summoned delivery person brings him food, or his neighbor knocks on his door uninvited with a plate of curry and a thermos of coffee that will last him into the next day.
It’s a routine Goro knows well, like clockwork, so when he shoves his key into the lock he thinks of what he has left in his freezer and what he should order. He doesn’t pay attention to anything else as he sets down his things.
It’s not until he tosses his keys on the couch that he even sees what’s on the couch.
Kurusu’s laying on his couch, feet dangling over one arm rest and his head using the other as a pillow, holding his phone above him with his thumb hovering beside the screen. He’s looking at the keys that have hit his leg, a little smile as he notices the Featherman keychain he had gifted Goro hanging off of it, a smile that has Goro’s heart fluttering. Kurusu looks over at Goro who stands baffled by the doorway. It’s then that he lowers his cellphone, the light disappearing as he sets it on his chest, using his now free hand to greet Goro with a little wave.
“Hey Akechi.”
“What are you doing in my house?”
Kurusu shrugs. “I was bored.”
“Bored…” Goro mocks under his breath. “How did you even get in here? I know I locked the door.”
“I unlocked it. Wasn’t that hard.”
This idiot. “I could have you arrested for breaking and entering.”
“But you won’t.”
Goro crosses his arms, leaning back against the door. “What makes you so sure?”
Kurusu’s grin widens, reminiscent of his days as Joker. “Because I brought homemade coffee and curry. It’s still hot.”
Shit.
He’s won, Goro knows, and he’s already berating himself for being swayed so easily. It’s difficult to resist anything Kurusu makes. Kurusu can never know.
Well, even if he knows he’s been outmatched already Goro can at the very least drag this out a bit longer. He refuses to appear easily beaten by Kurusu. “That’s it?”
“Well, I’m free to stay for dinner.” Kurusu says, reaching for his hair. He catches himself, hand hovering just in front of his face before it falls limp. “If you’d like my company.” It’s amusing, how he had been so confident about his peace offering and now he’s nervous again. “And if not tonight, keeping me out of jail means I can come over another night.”
“I think that’s even less enticing than your last offer. You can do better.”
Kurusu gives him a look and Goro decides to mess with him some more, pulling out his phone. He glances down at it, and Kurusu watches, but still doesn’t look concerned enough to make any sort of escape.
He’d call Kurusu cocky, but Kurusu knows Goro wouldn’t call the police on him. So instead of going through with his empty threat he slips his phone into his pocket, approaches the couch as he removes his scarf and drops in on Kurusu’s head. He grabs it off his face and throws it back at Goro, who lets it fall onto the floor.
“If you’re going to break into my house at least do something useful,” Goro says before he walks into the kitchen. Right on top of the counter is a thermos and a plate of curry, which while it’s not steaming is still probably warm.
“Food is useful,” Kurusu argues. He shifts so that his arms drape along the length of the couch, his chin tucked into the cushion.
Instead of responding Goro just grabs one of the few mugs from the shelf, reaching for one of the silly mugs Kurusu has given him over the years. They’re his favorites, even if the little sayings on them are stupid and all the dumb jokes fall flat. Goro would be caught dead before drinking from any of these in the presence of anyone other than Kurusu.
He turns back to the counter and pours himself some of the coffee from the thermos. It’s not quite the same as Leblanc’s, still miles above whatever little cafes and coffee stores he’s come across, and he knows it’s been brewed exclusively to his taste.
He doesn’t update the food blog from his high school days anymore, allowing himself to indulge without the pressure of posting, and he’d be happy to critique Kurusu’s coffee and rip it apart if it tastes like shit. Yet Goro knows there’s no need, that his coffee, even if made with cheap coffee beans, would still be preferable to anything he’d have considered writing for that blog.
It’s just another thing to add to the list of the things he will never tell Kurusu, really. There are many things he can never say. The thoughts are too personal, too emotional, and far too selfish. Goro already takes more from Kurusu than he should, allowing himself a connection he should’ve left severed.
Goro wonders if this list is as long of things he will never say is as long as the list of crimes he’s committed.
Goro takes a sip. “Adequate as always.”
“You love it,” Kurusu says.
Goro hums, not saying another word, instead escaping into another sip of his drink.
Kurusu jumps up and over from the back of the couch to join him in the kitchen. Without asking, he shimmies past Goro to take one of the mugs from the cupboard, borrowing one of the cat themed ones and pours himself some coffee.
“Wasn’t that my apology gift for you breaking into my house?”
“Yet you still haven’t kicked me out, so now I must be a guest. It’s rather rude you didn’t offer me anything.” Kurusu chuckles and Goro rolls his eyes.
“I’ll be sure to do so the next time you pick the lock.”
Kurusu laughs, and the two talk, sipping at coffee and eating the curry late into the evening. After that, things seem to go back to normal: sometimes messaging each other and inviting the other over if they had time to chat, late night conversations before the one of them would admit defeat in the silently agreed upon competition to see who would get too tired to continue first, or sometimes, if they were at Kurusu’s apartment, Morgana would kick Goro out before either of them would admit defeat, then they would bid each other good night and the guest would return to their apartment just a minute away, within the same complex. No break-ins.
Then, one morning a couple of weeks later, Goro wakes up to the smell of pancakes.
It’s a little weird that he can smell something, Goro thinks as he turns over in his bed. It’s probably his imagination, he rationalizes; he hasn’t smelled his neighbours cooking anything before, but paying attention he can hear a bit of sizzling and the crackling seems to pop periodically, and Goro’s eyes open wide as he realizes he is, in fact, hearing something.
He throws off the blanket, not even bothering to find a shirt before he cautiously makes his way to the living room. He’s rusty, but the skill of quietly prowling about his own home still comes easily.
As he steps into the other room the sound gets louder, which confirms that there is likely an intruder in the kitchen.
When he can finally get an angle to peer over the open counter he sees a familiar figure standing before the stove, black hair somehow messier than usual, turned to concentrate on the pancake that flies out of the pan and caught seconds later.
“What the fuck,” slips out of his mouth before he can even think about anything else.
Kurusu turns, starts to greet him but startles, his eyes, unobscured by his glasses, slightly widening. His cheeks turn cheery as he manages to mumble hello.
“Good… morning?” Kurusu adds on. It shouldn’t be a question.
Goro’s racing heart calms and a hint of tiredness hits him again. “What time is it?”
Kurusu glances at the counter by the stove, where his phone might be. “It’s, uh, four...”
“Why are you up this early?” Goro’s a morning person and even he wants to go back to bed; he knows Kurusu is more of a night owl but this is an extreme he hasn’t seen much of, especially with Morgana in control of Kurusu’s sleep schedule. “Wait, why are you in my house?”
“I wanted to make pancakes…” Kurusu mumbles again, fidgeting with his hair.
“In my apartment?”
At that Kurusu shrugs and Goro moves closer. It’s warmer in the kitchen, from the lit stove top and bodies close due to the lack of space— so close that with another step Goro’s bare arm would brush against Kurusu’s side. Goro leans back against the counter and Kurusu leans forward, his focus returning to the pancake. It doesn’t look like much, but Kurusu stares at it for another minute before flipping it over.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Kurusu whispers. “And I just… didn’t want to bother Morgana, I guess.”
“I see…” Goro says.
Kurusu watches the pancake for another minute, before he slides the spatula under it again. Instead of flipping it he transfers it onto a plate by the stove. It’s not one Goro is familiar with, nor is the pan, and it’s a bit of a surprise that Kurusu put so much preparation into his 4am plan of breaking into his apartment to cook pancakes.
“Sorry.” Kurusu reaches for the batter but hesitates. He turns off the stove. “I know I shouldn't have… or at least I should’ve messaged you first…”
“It’s okay,” Goro says, and he means it.
It is true that Kurusu should have alerted Goro before he showed up unannounced, especially so early, but there’s a weariness in Kurusu’s posture, his shoulders taut, head low and avoidant of Goro’s searching gaze, yet he can catch a glimpse of the bags under his eyes from the right angle. It’s a side that he rarely ever sees from Kurusu, a side of him that draws Goro to him regardless. It’s moments like this Goro wishes he were better at reaching out, to be able to support him in these moments. The best thing he can think of is to lean forward, chest ghosting over Kurusu’s back, and turn the stove back onto the setting that he thinks he saw it on before.
Kurusu dials the knob back one heat setting and the both of them let out a quiet laugh in unison. For the first time that morning Kurusu looks him in the eye, a smile highlighted by rosy cheeks and tired eyes, still honest and beautiful in the dim lighting, before he turns back to the stove and resumes cooking.
Goro closes his eyes and simply listens from his spot behind Kurusu, the sizzling of the stove attempting to cover up Kurusu’s every breath, but he puts his attention to catching that steady rhythm. He doesn’t plan on going back to bed, he feels too awake and doesn’t feel like leaving.
Sometime during the silence he feels the fingertips of Kurusu’s hand brush against his, and later he’ll blame it on the early morning hours, on a near-extinct exhaustion, but he reaches out, fingers lightly gripping Kurusu’s. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he feels Kurusu squeeze his hand and tightens his grip.
The sensation has him opening his eyes again, observing Kurusu as he keeps an intense focus on the stove. It seems like watching paint dry, if only because on the surface there seems to be no change, yet Kurusu acts as if it is the only thing drawing his attention. Yet the tips of his ears are pink, and while he is acting cool he’s rather still. Goro squeezes Kurusu’s hand.
Once more Kurusu spares him a glance, a nervous little smile that makes Goro’s cheeks warmer than they had been, and it takes everything in him to keep looking and acting as if this isn’t affecting him as much as it is. He knows it doesn’t mean anything special on Kurusu’s end, it’s simply Kurusu reaching out for support, but it’s an opportunity Goro selfishly takes to indulge in something he’ll never have.
Before the sun rises Kurusu finishes, turning off the stove and grabbing the plate of pancakes. He doesn’t let go of his hand as he maneuvers so he can put the plate on the counter, which has acted as Goro’s make-shift dining table, and only lets go of his hand when Kurusu has to separate to grab more plates. Goro shifts his attention to grabbing some silverware from a drawer on the opposite side of the kitchen.
It’s a rather surprising breakfast set-up, and it seemed Kurusu had been even more prepared than he had noticed, syrup and butter placed beside the stack of pancakes.
He pulls out one of the stools, sliding in and notices Kurusu does the same. “Uh, thank you for the food,” Goro says before he helps himself.
It’s good, which doesn’t surprise Goro as he’s had some of Kurusu’s non-curry cooking. But it is the first time he’s had breakfast cooked by Kurusu, and a small part of Goro hopes something like this could happen again, under less stressful circumstances.
The early morning leaves him tired for the rest of the day, but remembering the casual touching, the quiet laughter and acceptance, a comfortable silence later filled with a bit of banter, each moment energizes him and destroys him all at once. That same afternoon when he returns Kurusu is casually setting up a nice lunch, completely uninvited, and all Goro does is offer him a drink.
After the double break-in, it becomes a more regular occurrence; every few days Goro would find himself awake early to one of the noises Kurusu makes in the kitchen as he’s cooking. Sometimes it’s something savory, sometimes he’s baking sweets. On mornings Goro wakes up more aware he’ll offer his assistance where he can, mixing bowls and combining ingredients.
Sometimes he’d show up in the afternoon, like the first time, and Goro would find signs of life throughout his house: a recently vacuumed floor one of his books forgotten on the couch, or the remains of a make-shift bedding from pillows and blankets Goro was certain he didn’t own. Many times Kurusu was not there when he returned, and the few times he was he had been napping or soon to leave to get something done in his apartment, sometimes returning later for their chats if Goro wasn’t heading over to Kurusu’s place.
One night, when Goro mentions to Kurusu over text that he hadn’t had dinner yet, not thinking much of it, is surprised by hearing something rattling by his door, stopping with a click. The door opens and Kurusu walks in, met with a pillow to the face. The pillow falls to the floor, and sheepishly Kurusu lifts a bag and starts heading to the kitchen without another word. Goro rolls his eyes, returning to his book on the couch while listening as Kurusu begins cooking dinner in his apartment. When Goro asks why he didn’t just cook it at home Kurusu simply shrugs and says he wants to do so here, and that was that.
It becomes another thing Goro comes to expect, Kurusu just unexpectedly barging into his home with dinner ingredients and cooking without invitation. Sometimes he’d simply drop some groceries off in preparation for another meal cooked either early the next morning or later that same evening, and that would be the only hint Goro would have for his impromptu but regular visits at all times of the day.
One evening, far later than either of them are used to, Goro types away on his laptop, swallowing his yawns and ignoring the tiredness in his eyes. Kurusu’s feet press against his thigh as he tries to fight for more space on the couch, squirming as he adjusts his blanket and settles his head against his pillow.
Goro stops typing after Kurusu settles, and looks over to see he has taken off his glasses. They’re sitting on the coffee table where Kurusu’s lockpick project lies unfinished. His eyes are closed, one arm draped across his stomach and the other dangling off the couch. He certainly looks at peace, if a bit uncomfortable.
“If you’re tired you don’t have to stick around,” Goro says, closing the laptop.
“I don’t wanna go upstairs,” Kurusu mumbles. “It’s exhausting.”
“It’s one flight of stairs.” Goro chuckles.
“Lazy,” is all Kurusu says, digging his feet into Goro’s side.
“At least take the bed, then,” Goro says. The words are shocking enough to the both of them that Kurusu opens his eyes and stares at Goro. “Aren’t you always the one harassing me about my awful hospitality towards my guests?”
“Yes,” Kurusu agrees. “Because you usually suck at it.”
“So I am improving.” Goro grins and that earns him another jab into his thigh. “So, as evidence for my case, I am offering you the bed.”
“It’s your bed,” Kurusu says.
“And I’m offering it.”
Kurusu frowns. “But where are you going to sleep?”
“The couch, most likely,” Goro says. “Unless of course you’d rather share the bed, I don’t bite.”
Though he’d certainly like too, and Goro kicks himself for even thinking it, suppressing and redirecting his thoughts elsewhere. It’s difficult, with the object of his affections right next to him, completely oblivious and looking for a lover elsewhere.
Kurusu looks contemplative, trying to decide which option is worth it and Goro thinks it should be obvious; if Kurusu is going to insist he stay the night then he can have his bed, if only to prove that he is a decent host to his questionable guest. He knows Kurusu has been in his room before, and that he likely knows his bed is a tight fit for two. Kurusu has to let him take the couch.
“Are you sure you wanna share?” Kurusu says and Goro’s brain freezes.
“I did offer,” he says seconds later. Kurusu’s eyes narrow in uncertainty. “Scared of sharing, Kurusu?”
That puts a determined look in Kurusu’s eye, and he looks more awake than he had minutes before. “We can share the bed.”
Goro gets up from the couch, and Kurusu follows, folding up the blanket and setting it on one of the cushions while Goro returns to the bedroom. He deposits the laptop on the desk, plugging it into the charger before he moves to his dresser. He doesn’t think too much about which pajamas he should use, just grabbing what’s at the top, which happens to be a featherman t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, and he starts to walk towards the bathroom.
On his way out of his bedroom, Kurusu enters, rubbing at his eyes. Goro takes another look at Kurusu; while he’s dressed casually Goro can spot the thin layer of dirt on his jeans and remembers he mentioned he had been helping Okumura with her garden today.
“I have some spare night clothes if you’d like to change,” Goro says. “I think we’re a similar size.”
Kurusu nods, glancing around the room and noticing the drawer Goro hadn’t closed. Before he can consider lingering unnecessarily Goro heads into the bathroom to change.
He takes his time switching out of his work attire and slipping into his pajamas, washing his face and brushing his teeth. He’s nervous, stupidly nervous. There’s nothing going on between them, they are friends and they are just comfortable enough with each other to share a bed. Completely platonic, Goro reminds himself, the words attempting to shove the thoughts in the back of his mind that are most certainly not.
It’s hard not to imagine what Kurusu would feel like nestled against his side, lips on lips, exploring skin, to be close and entwined. The dream is delusional, Goro reminds himself as he splashes water on his face. It never could be real, not after the past, regardless of how they’ve both grown and changed since their high school days.
He wonders what Kurusu would think, if he knew his thoughts. Would he be revolted or would he act as if nothing has changed? He could imagine the latter being realistic, if only because it was hard not to notice the many crushes of the Phantom Thieves and Kurusu’s other friends in the past. He probably has enough experience maneuvering between the line of friendships and those searching for something more that he could play a part with Goro too.
And if his feelings were to make Kurusu settle into a rehersased role rather than be himself, Goro will do his best to make sure Kurusu never learns the truth.
He turns off the faucet and takes a deep breath, fingers tightening over the handle before he finally lets go. He drops his clothes into the laundry basket before he exits the bathroom, suspecting it’s been long enough to safely re-enter his room.
Kurusu is already lying on his back in bed, the blanket thrown off to the side showing off how Goro’s clothes fit on him. They’re just a bit large, plenty of creases in the fabric form, and it’s certainly nothing fancy, but seeing Kurusu in his clothes warms Goros cheeks and before he stares for too long Goro moves to slip into the bed next to Kurusu.
There really is not enough room for the two of them. Just to the point where even while their shoulders touch Goro’s arm still hangs off the bed. So he turns onto his side, tucking one arm under the pillow and laying the other over his stomach as he shifts to face Kurusu.
It almost feels like a mistake, he thinks as they look at each other. Besides their breaths it is just a midnight silence, Kurusu simply watching Goro with such a soft expression he’s never seen before.
“Hi,” Kurusu eventually whispers, breathy and raw with a nameless emotion.
“Hello,” Goro whispers back, an awkward chuckle under his breath. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”
“So are you,” Kurusu says with a little grin.
“I just got here.” Goro rolls his eyes.
“So did I,” Kurusu replies.
“I see. You’re quite chatty for someone who's too tired to walk up a flight of stairs.”
At that comment Kurusu closes his eyes but his smile doesn’t fade. “So are you.”
“I wasn’t the one falling asleep on my couch,” he retorts.
“Sure you weren’t,” Kurusu replies.
Goro huffs but says nothing. He kicks at Kurusu’s leg and shimmies farther onto the bed, giving himself more space. Kurusu doesn’t complain, adjusting a little and Goro closes his eyes. Kurusu shifts just a little bit more, his arm settling next to Goro’s, close enough for Goro to feel but distant enough that it isn’t intrusive.
It’s oddly nerve wrecking, to be with Kurusu like this. Physical touch eventually came in abundance when interacting with Kurusu, but it’s been years since he’s slept in the same room as someone else, let alone someone he cared about so deeply. The trust of such a state of vulnerability was something Goro is unsure he deserving of, yet it’s reassuring to know Kurusu is by his side with just the hint of a touch, just a ghost of a breath, knowing that even after all the strife and heartache Kurusu would still be willing to be this comfortable with him, that Goro could be reassured that Kurusu was still here.
It takes longer to fall asleep that night, the worries mixed with the joy. And that night he dreams a familiar dream: of morning sunlight trickling in from a gap in the curtain, Kurusu’s arms around him and Goro pulling him close. The light would hit Kurusu’s face, highlighting his eyes, silver like metal, like the lining between morning and night, as he blinks blearily at Goro, still half-asleep. In the dream Goro would always lean forward, a quick peck to Kurusu’s lips, and usually he would see a quick curl upwards of Kurusu’s mouth before the dream would end and he’d return to darkness with another embarrassing secret to bury.
Instead, after that good morning kiss, Kurusu’s face reddens, Goro blinks, remembers the night before and he realizes that he was not dreaming.
“Shit, I’m—”
Kurusu leans forward and kisses him. He doesn’t linger, pulling back just as fast as he came, and as he leans back that sleepy smile appears on his face. As Goro watches on, dumbstruck, Kurusu tucks a lock of Goro’s hair behind his ear, and waits for the seconds it takes for Goro to kiss him again.
Even while they’re both still half-asleep they try again and again, each of the little morning pecks clumsy, bumping noses and meeting at the wrong spots, but they giggle between each attempt like school children, both high on the euphoria of something new, and that weight inside Goro’s chest feels lighter with each attempt.
It takes time to find a proper rhythm, to let kisses linger just a little longer. Each is slow, testing waters unexplored, pushing the boundaries just a little more as the sunrise illuminates them more.
After a time they press their foreheads together and Goro can’t help but be in awe at the joy he finds in Kurusu’s eyes, far more awake than they had been when he had first been kissed.
Words had often come easy to Goro, rehearsed or no, but in this moment there’s nothing he can think of beyond a blissful accident, of Kurusu’s curls, messier than ever, tickling the hand that wandered behind his head, of the red dust making his cheeks glow, of his lips, freshly kissed, of Kurusu’s eyes, watching his every little move just as closely.
“Good morning,” Kurusu says, later, still breathless, still beautiful.
“Good morning,” Goro echoes.
“It’s so early,” Kurusu complains with a smile on his face.
“Certainly for you.”
Kurusu nods, wrapping his arms tighter around Goro and shifts so he’s closer, chest to chest with his head just below Goro’s chin. “We’re gonna sleep in.”
“You’re such a demanding guest,” Goro tsks as he tightens his grip around Kurusu’s waist. “You know I have things to attend to.” The words have never felt so carefree.
“It can wait,” Kurusu mumbles into his chest. “Sleep with me.”
“So forward, at least go on a date with me first.”
Kurusu pinches his back and Goro only laughs. “Later, smartass. Actual sleep first.”
“Fine, fine,” Goro says, closing his eyes again. He can’t remember the last time he let himself sleep in, but it’s his day off work, and he doesn’t want to leave this moment of a dream come true yet anyway.
And in some way, the dream of waking up by Kurusu’s side doesn’t end; there’s a shift in their dynamic, pleasant and expected, as their hangouts turn to date nights, how Kurusu’s break ins begin to turn into a daily occurrence. Offering a key himself feels too forward, too soon, so Goro will act like Kurusu—Akira—is still an intruding nuisance, even as Akira cooks dinner or finds a quiet activity to do while Goro concentrates on paperwork.
The only new addition is Akira’s late night break-ins, each one waking Goro from his sleep, his half-open eyes watching for a familiar silhouette. When he feels a weight in the bed, he simply goes back to sleep, knowing that in the morning Akira will be there, the two of them closely entwined together.
The fact that Akira keeps coming over and ditching Morgana has left Morgana expressing his frustration at Akira’s “disappearing act” every time Goro does stop by, but Goro has long since learned how to placate Morgana with sushi. It’s a bigger dent in his wallet than before, but it means a few less complaints, and Goro will take what he can get.
One of those days, Akira having intruded on Goro’s day off, months later on the couch, Akira’s head in Goro’s lap with his fingers tangled in Akira’s hair, says: “I need to figure out what to do with my lease. It’s up for renewal soon.”
Goro hums, seeing an opportunity. “Did you want to move in here or find a new place together?”
Akira’s eyes widen in surprise. “I think a lot of people would consider that to be too soon.”
Goro stares at him for a long moment, and Akira says nothing in response. “Akira, have you looked around my apartment lately?”
“Of course I have, I’m here everyday.”
“Then you know half of your things are already here.”
Akira seems to ponder that for a minute, thinking about what objects are at Goro’s apartment and what’s at his. Goro knows his cupboards have been filled with pots and pans, drawers filled to the brim with wooden spoons and spatulas, and the number of dishes have doubled. In the winter, Akira brought more blankets for the bed, which now are stacked neatly in the closet, ready to be used again at a later date. Akira had even bought a spare charger that remains forever plugged in near Goro’s own, frequently in use; and for the nights that Akira decides early on to stay the night, there’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Some days Goro will even find Akira’s bills or work notes loitering around the coffee table or on the counter.
It takes a minute longer for the realization to hit Akira, but when it does his lips part with a quiet “Oh.”
Goro doesn’t resist the urge to laugh at his dumbstruck expression. “You’re the one whose been trying to move in since before we started dating. What do you have to say to that, Akira Kurusu?”
Akira grins, reaching up to tuck some of Goro’s fallen hair behind his ear before gently pulling his face down just a little. “It seems I’m guilty.” He leans up to meet Goro halfway to a quick kiss. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“I’ve told you your options, Akira,” Goro says. “Unless you have a better—”
“Nope,” Akira replies. “I’d like to actually move in with you. Properly, if uh, that’s still okay.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it, even though that certainly wasn’t your intention. Though I do hope you will start learning to use a key.”
“I’ll try.” Akira looks a little sheepish. “As soon I figure out how I can stop losing my own keys.”
Goro’s brow furrows. “Akira, where is the key to your apartment?”
Akira glances away. “If I had to guess, probably somewhere in your apartment.”
Goro sighs with a hint of a laugh, leans forward to kiss Akira’s forehead before he starts nudging him off his lap. “Well, we should probably look for it before we start planning our future.”
Akira leaves his lap, and Goro starts to stand. Before he can, Akira sets his hands onto Goro’s shoulders, leans in to kiss him. Goro draws him closer with his arms around Akira’s neck, and the couch shifts as Akira’s knees sink into the cushion, for a long, slow and lazy kiss. Eventually they pull away, smiles on both of their faces. “I look forward to it.”