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~*~
The ear-splitting thunder shook the skies above Tokyo. The streets, sealed hundreds of times over with concrete and asphalt, were overflowing. The rain whipped the window pane; woe to anybody who had to be outside.
A small, cozy dorm room in Kosei’s campus was a safe haven amidst all that storm. Ren sat there in the middle of the floor, pleasantly sleepy while posing for a painting. Very much content in observing his boyfriend battle the fickle mistress of inspiration.
Ren was naked (because of course he was), with his hair slicked back and eyes darkened with a dashing smudge of eyeliner. His lower half was wrapped in some old curtains he and Yusuke had stolen from the Kosei music room. They had an interesting texture of crushed velvet, and so were deemed fitting for the session. Yusuke insisted on lots of candlelight, a knocked-over hourglass and a tray of fruit, flowers and feathers, to embody decadence and baroque excess.
They didn’t have anything to act as a skull, though. Yusuke really seemed to want it, so Ren picked up the root of celeriac at the grocery store, drew two eye sockets and a row of crooked teeth with a Sharpie and stared at it with an expression as stormy as the weather, trying to stay in character.
Yusuke inspected an errant line for an umpteenth time, finally deciding to paint it over after all. Ren smirked fondly, watching him with a corner of his eye; the artist kept fussing over the amount of blue he should mix in to achieve the exact shade of purple. It was strangely cute, his diligence, his nervous fingers blending the paint in a doomed quest for perfection.
A smug grin wouldn’t leave Ren’s face despite his best efforts to be serious; he couldn't fight the wave of affection that ebbed closer each time he added a brushstroke. Yusuke was so in his element, unintentionally beautiful. Ren watched him and nursed the feeling; he knew the rain would continue long into the night, giving him a perfect excuse to stay and enamour him later.
Yusuke’s phone buzzed on the table.
“...Hello?” The painter huffed inattentively, pressing it to his cheek with a shoulder to be able to continue working. “Yes, I am… why? Right now?” He put the brush down. “Akechi, slow dow— hmm.”
He fell silent, then picked the phone and just sat there, stunned, looking at the screen. Ren raised his eyebrows in question.
“He disconnected,” Yusuke frowned, biting his lower lip. “He seemed... really distressed. I wonder what it was about.”
“What did he say?” Ren rose from the floor, gathering the curtain around his hips like a robe. Before Yusuke managed to answer, though, someone started banging at the door, with panicked urgency that demanded immediate reaction; Yusuke hopped to open.
“...Goro?” Yusuke gasped, seeing the detective completely drenched, in soaked shoes and a ruined trench coat, with leaves stuck in his hair and mud splattered on his slacks. He was shivering.
“Forgive me for coming in unannounced, I wouldn’t ha—” another thunder split the sky, and Akechi jolted into the safety of the room in complete fright, pushing the host aside. He covered his face with both hands and slumped at the wall, sliding down to the floor; if he could, he’d curl into a ball like a big beige armadillo in a checkered scarf and preferably stay that way.
“...Please tell me this excuse of a dorm has a lightning rod installed,” he groaned from between his fingers.
“Most probably,” Yusuke offered in a gentle voice. He closed the door with a diligent click, shooting Ren a knowing glance. “...Are you afraid of the thunder?”
“Not a fan,” Akechi gritted out, still covering his face, “...of storms in general. Excessive amounts of rain, lightning, power cuts and fucking flooding.” Akechi swallowed. “Sorry for imposing like that, but your place was the closest. I’d rather not be out there now.”
“Of course, you’re drenched,” Yusuke said, but was cut off by yet another thunder that rolled above them. This one was more like a threatening growl rather than a vicious strike from high heavens; Akechi grunted, pushing his gloved fingers into his ears.
Yusuke patted his shoulder and opened a nearby cabinet to dig out a towel. He knelt in front of the detective, disregarding the big puddle that started to form at his feet, put the fluffy fabric on Goro’s head and started to pat his hair down gently.
“I used to be afraid of storms too, for the longest of times. The shack wasn’t exactly… waterproof,” he whispered, rubbing the auburn strands in between his hands.
Akechi uncurled a fraction.
“At some point, I had a leak in my room, just above the futon. I came home to a ruined bed, time and again.” Yusuke continued. “I wanted to move it, but the room was too small; finally I had to ask for a replacement. Madarame was… furious. He said that it was me who wetted the mattress. I can't recall a time I've been more ashamed, I think.”
Akechi listened and let Yusuke do his thing. The painter would open just like that pretty easily, telling a story from his own past, replacing the gnawing anxiety in Akechi’s soul with righteous anger. He was so honest about it and found it so natural to share, that more often than not Akechi would reciprocate with the same.
Such was the case now, too.
“I spent a full year in the suburbs. Back in... “ Goro cleared his throat. “Back in the orphanage. That house was derelict.” Yusuke hummed, rubbing at Akechi’s nape to dry him off at least somewhat. “One summer we were flooded in the storm. This… muddy sludge tore through the house, messed up the kitchen, took our things... When we hid upstairs, the thunder struck the roof.”
Yusuke lifted the edge of the towel to fish for Akechi’s eyes, but they were still closed.
“...Such a fucking noise,” Goro whimpered, and Yusuke clasped his own hands over his ears, holding gently and preventing him from hearing anything.
“It’s okay,” he droned calmly. “It’s alright. That’s all it is. Noise.”
Akechi grunted, but allowed Yusuke to dive underneath the towel.
“It can’t reach you here.”
A small, chaste kiss bloomed on Akechi’s lips and he finally relaxed enough to open his eyes a sliver. At first, he only looked at Yusuke, following the outline of his beautiful face and committing it to memory, but then... he noticed naked Ren, wrapped up in a purple, stained curtain, holding the celeriac like it was a magic artifact.
He blinked, twice.
“...What the FUCK.”
“We’re in the middle of painting a baroque ensemble,” Ren supplied courteously, turning the celeriac towards him. “Memento mori.”
Akechi turned livid in seconds.
“Shut the fuck up,” Akechi barked. “Shut. The fuck. Up, you fucking… You. It had to be you, you, of all the fucking people, why the fuck… FUCK!” Akechi rose to his feet and kicked the wall with passion, furious that he’d just spilled his guts on such a vulnerable topic and Ren, his Fated Rival, had heard it all. “Fuck you! You know what, fuck you, just seriously, sincerely, wholeheartedly, fuck! You! Very much!!!”
“Okay, okay, I get it, we should have said something, given you a heads up,” Ren tried to apologise, but Akechi bristled even more.
“Fuck you!!!”
“Okay...!” Ren cradled the celeriac to his breast as if Goro was about to hurt his precious prop. The makeshift Yoric remained unfazed, sadly. “...I heard you the first five times.”
“I’m going home,” Akechi announced and turned on his heel, but Yusuke stopped him.
“No, Goro, you’re not. Please use the shower and change into something dry,” he reasoned, putting both hands on his shoulders. “And have something warm to drink. I’ll make you tea.”
Akechi sighed. Counted to ten. Scowled at him from underneath his disheveled bangs.
“...And you. Tell me, are you two inseparable? Why can’t I ever catch you alone?” He hissed, ripped the towel out of Yusuke’s hands and shut the bathroom door behind him.
Yusuke’s face scrunched up in focus.
“Hm. Do tell, is he really afraid of the thunder, or was he only trying to entice me into intercourse?” He wondered aloud. “Like he did with you, that memorable evening in the bathhouse. Should we… perhaps adjust the ratio of threesomes to one-on-one encounters?"
“You think?” Ren lifted the celeriac head, staring at it deep in thought; he did not miss a glassy, hurt look in Akechi’s eyes, no matter how much he’d tried to veil it with irritation.
“When Akechi feels neglected in the bedroom, he can be quite intolerable,” Yusuke smirked, preparing a fresh change of clothing. Ren laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Spoiling him a bit won’t hurt, I think… right?” Yusuke raised his silver eyes at his boyfriend. “He badly needs some spoiling, you know.”
Ren scoffed, taking Yusuke’s face in hands. “You need spoiling. You need to be pampered,” he said emphatically, kissing his knuckles gentlemanly. “He needs to learn how to take better care of himself. These are two different things.”
10 years later
The rain gained on intensity, and the rumble of the sky above turned a tad aggressive. Ren nudged the window closed so that the sounds of the storm would not wake the others up.
Yusuke slept spooned up to Goro’s back, their legs tangled under the comforter. He must have felt the movement; Ren watched Yusuke’s eyelids flutter as he registered the tickle of the morning light, sneaking through the curtains. His thick, absurdly pretty eyelashes parted reluctantly to acknowledge the new day.
Yusuke took note of Goro, sleeping peacefully in front of him with his lips open and the tiniest snore. Then he turned to Ren, who was stretching shamelessly, covers discarded, one leg bent at the knee. He found Morgana, curled in a ball at the foot of the bed, a purring dot of ink on pristine white sheets.
Finally, Yusuke recognized the sounds of an upcoming storm and instinctively gathered Akechi closer, nuzzling his neck in reassurance. He groaned quietly, reluctant to get up just yet, and hid his face in Akechi’s back.
When the thunder did strike, Goro’s eyes flew open. His body tensed in an instant, heartbeat spiked with unbridled panic - but he found himself hidden in a double embrace, with Ren’s face closing in, and his lips finding his own.
Ren made him open up and kissed him slowly, cupping his ear with a hand so that he wouldn’t hear. After a second he felt Goro’s body relax, going loose with a deep exhale into his mouth; he started to slowly, slowly reciprocate, his tongue darting out and brushing his lower teeth.
They were lifetimes away from the angry, hurt teenagers they had once been. Goro was no longer a detective; Ren was no longer a delinquent. Yusuke was theirs, and he no longer had to suffer the yoke of Madarame’s influence.
They were living in their own home, on their own terms, and the roof over their heads was built with promises for rafters.
Goro drank from Ren’s lips, feeling Yusuke’s hands crawl up his ribcage sleepily, and he focused entirely on ignoring the rage of the outside world. Ren’s lips were soft, molding to his own eagerly.
Lightning zapped the sky alight, and the thunder followed a couple of seconds after.
The fact that Goro didn’t react to it was the greatest gift of all.