Chapter Text
On December 24th, 2016, Ren settled onto his flimsy mattress and waited patiently for his eyelids to grow heavy. His mind continued to whirr and click, working overtime to sort through blurred lines of reality and cognition, refusing to relax into hard-earned rest. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt since he first entered the Metaverse and awakened to Arsène: that mental misstep that made him want to doubt his own memories.
Did he really shoot a God in the head today? Did his cat dissolve into fragments of light? Did he see a dead boy waltz like a knight into Shibuya crossing to be whisked away to juvenile hall in his stead?
Maybe. "What each person sees and feels, that is what shapes reality." Morgana’s words, echoing in his head. It left him wondering how exactly his current feelings affected the world and whether he wanted to use them to shape it or to shove them away.
The temperature dropped that night and left Ren alone in Leblanc's attic for the first time in months, with only a single-pane window and a thin blanket between himself and the frigid December air. A strong cocktail of guilt, grief, hope, and an unnamed empty feeling at the uncertainty of the future swirled through the images behind his closed eyes in a thick fog, bleeding through his skin and melting into the core of him until sleep finally emerged to usher him along.
---
The following morning and five years later, Ren wakes, warm from sleep. He stretches his arms above his head. Then, like clockwork—he’s always been good at anticipating this moment—his alarm bursts into cheery song. A figure at his side stirs, grumbles, and turns to become big spoon to a bundle of black and white fur. It’s an obnoxious hour, long before they usually wake up.
Ren pushes himself up, swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Slips his feet into a pair of well-worn room shoes.
"Better not..." Mona mumbles.
He turns around, head tilted in question.
"... eat all the sushi before the guards catch you," he finishes, and his head presses into Goro's chin. Ren chuckles and pads to the kitchen as quietly as he can manage.
For four years now he's had the pleasure of learning precisely which coffee Goro Akechi likes best: Ethiopia Harar, brewed strong, served black, in a twenty-ounce thermos he'd stolen from Ren in his first year of university.
The clock on the wall reads 4:22 and his mind wanders as he circles the kettle over the siphon.
---
He stepped onto this path—the one that led to being awake and making coffee at four in the morning—about a month ago, lounging in the living room, scrolling through old photos on his phone while Goro tapped away at his laptop on the couch beside him.
“This is good of Ann, don’t you think?” He shoves a photo of Ann smiling between fistfuls of pineapple between Goro and his laptop screen. 'Sendai, August 1, 2017,' reads the caption.
“Mm,” says Goro, then ducks to the side and continues typing.
Ren keeps scrolling, on to Sapporo. Then stops on a photo of himself, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Morgana.
Ryuji’s arms are around his bros, reluctantly, his exaggerated grimace insists. Yusuke is looking out at the view, framing it with his fingers. Morgana is staring at the floor in disappointment, and Ren looks like he always does in selfies: solid and confident, but seeing it now he feels the punch of emotion hidden behind his eyes. Longing for a time when he might be able to share a Ferris wheel car with one person in particular.
“Christmas is coming up,” he says back in the present, making sure to sound casual. “Wanna go to the festival at Seaside Park?”
Goro looks up from his computer. He pauses for a minute, searching Ren’s expression for something—humor, maybe. But Ren isn’t joking.
“A little pedestrian for you, isn’t it, Joker?”
“I want to go on the Ferris wheel.”
Goro’s eyebrow quirks, unconvinced.
“Can’t argue with the view,” he counters, holding his phone between them. Their foreheads brush as Goro leans over the screen.
It’s a panorama of the Sapporo skyline. It’s dusk; the tower and the windows of distant homes sparkle in the distance; it’s objectively beautiful.
“I suppose I can see the appeal,” Goro concedes. The corners of his lips turn up at Ren’s fist pump.
“Sweet. Booking now.”
---
The next day at work, a notification pops onto his calendar.
New event invitation from: Akechi, Goro
Time: 2:00 pm, December 25th
Location: Shinagawa
Title: Date with Goro.
Description: I’ve marked myself as unavailable at work on the twenty-fifth.
And, well, he’s upped the ante. So as soon as Ren clicks 'Accept,' he calls off work himself and adds another activity to the calendar. And accepts another, and adds another, and so on until the entire day is filled with secret blocks of time in red and black and Ren’s chest is near bursting with anticipation.
---
“Time to go, honey.” Ren sets the thermos on the bedside table with a thunk.
“No.”
He sets his hand on his hip, cants them to the side. “You’re not falling behind on me, are you?”
“Fine.” Bullseye. “I’m up. I’m ready.”
Ren watches him contort around Morgana to extricate himself from the bed and emerge fully dressed. Goro brushes his teeth, splashes some water on his face, then strides into the living room—briefly backtracking to yank his thermos off the table.
“Let’s go,” he mumbles, then pours coffee down his throat and opens the door.