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Birthdays were something Goro never considered worth celebrating after his mother died. He began to treat his own like a regular day, often forgetting it passed until he had to indicate his age on a document. He didn’t understand the hype around them. Technically every living being had a birthday, but humans were the only ones who took note.
His coworkers used to go out drinking to celebrate, often lamenting the fact Goro couldn’t join them because he was underage. The shy underclassmen girls would leave birthday party invitations on his desk, in hopes he’d show up to celebrate with them. He’d take the train to work and hear stories of wild parties and celebrations people went to for friends.
It didn’t make sense. At least, not until he met Akira.
Akira remembered everyone’s birthdays, even if they only mentioned it once in passing. As a result, during his own birthday all his confidants returned his good intentions tenfold. Goro finds himself waiting in anticipation one afternoon, half-hidden in the back of Leblanc.
“Surprise!” “Happy birthday!”
The ex-Thieves are exuberant, immediately closing in on Akira and showering him in affection the moment he walks through the door. Ann is the first to reach him, hugging him close and smothering him under her curtain of hair. Makoto hugs him quickly, there and gone in an instant. Ryuji and Yusuke are next, each opting for pats on the back in greeting, while Futaba and Sumire nearly throw themselves at him in unison and laugh when he pulls them in. Haru is the last to approach with a quick hug around the others - well, almost to last.
Goro stands a fair distance away from them, observing as he lets them have Akira to themselves. He feels the urge to approach - to hug him just like Ann, or tackle him like Sumire, or maybe kiss him silly in front of everyone in the way only he can do. The feeling pricks under his skin and creeps down to his arms and legs, urging him forward. He stands his ground, grinding his teeth.
Akira doesn’t need his affection when he is already painted in the colors of everyone else. Goro stares at his face, willing the feeling of jealousy to disappear. It’s pointless and irrational, yet it doesn’t go away.
Akira notices him and smiles over Futaba’s head when their eyes meet. He pats her on the back before detangling her arms from around his neck, and his friends knowingly clear a path straight to Goro. They all glance at him, not unkindly, but as if they’re anticipating what he might do with unchecked curiosity.
Sumire gives him a quick thumbs up when he glances at her, while Ann winks without a hint of shame. Goro scowls, feeling like he’s on the opposite side of the glass at a zoo.
Akira takes a step closer, then another. When they’re centimeters away from one another he reaches out to stroke Goro’s cheek, smoothing his thumb along the skin. Goro momentarily forgets there are others in the room watching them as he leans into the touch.
“Hi,” Akira says, lips quirking into a smile at the corners. “I missed you.”
“Happy birthday,” Goro mumbles back, instead of the I missed you too lingering on his lips. Akira’s eyes brighten, and he realizes maybe he doesn’t have to say it after all. Akira’s thumb presses down on his bottom lip, and for a second he thinks he’s about to be kissed. His friends know, everyone knows, and yet…
“Thank you,” Akira replies, and drops his hand. Goro immediately misses the warmth and fights down a contrary whine. Akira turns to the others behind them, who make a poor effort of pretending like they weren’t staring. “So, let’s party?”
“Dude,” Ryuji starts to say, then promptly gets drowned out by Futaba’s cheer.
“You guys are so loud,” Morgana complains from the booth seat he was napping on. He stretches out, landing on the floor at Akira’s feet.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
✧
The “party”, as it was called, is really a little gathering in Akira’s attic. It’s not unlike the other celebrations they’ve had, or their Phantom Thief meetings, for that matter. The only thing that sets this apart is the dollar store banners and balloons spread all over the place, over-the-top and cheesy just like Akira likes. Goro sighs as he is ushered into Ann’s clutches to be forced into a party hat. Beside him on the bed, Morgana is proudly wearing his own miniature hat, also given to him by Ann.
The group celebrates into the late hours of the evening by playing video games, drinking, and swapping high school stories of Akira to embarrass him in front of Goro. Yusuke and Sumire are the first to leave as Goro sits beside Akira on the floor, their hands tangled together under the blanket that slid down the side of the bed. Akira runs his thumb along the back of his hand in soothing strokes, cheeks tinted pink as he answers a question from Makoto who is getting ready to head out herself.
The dwindling group mixed with the sleepiness of consuming alcohol makes Goro feel bolder than he has all night. Slowly, he lets his head lean to the side until it lands against Akira’s shoulder. He hears a sharp inhale from the man beside him, and then his hand is being squeezed tighter under the cover.
“Tired?” Akira mumbles quietly, only for him. “I’m happy you came.”
“Of course,” Goro replies, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s your birthday.”
“I know you don’t like parties.”
“I’ll tolerate them for you.”
They sit in silence for a bit, Akira taking his phone out and scrolling through the multitude of pictures taken that night. Goro sneaks a peek, and catches him lingering on a candid shot of the two of them laughing at some mundane thing he can’t remember. He has no idea who took it, the picture one of many in the sea of messages blowing up their group chat, but whoever it was sure got the perfect angle.
Akira notices him staring, but doesn’t turn his phone away. “Your birthday is in a couple of months,” he muses, not a question. “Do you have any plans?”
“I do not,” Goro replies honestly, instead of the sarcastic remark bouncing around his brain. “Why do you ask?”
“Good,” Akira mumbles, kissing the side of his head affectionately. “I’ll plan something. For just you and me,” he adds.
Goro scoffs. “You don’t have to go out of your way to accomodate me. We established that I can tolerate your friends about two years ago.”
“They’re your friends too,” Akira whispers, pressing in closer. “But maybe I just want you to myself for a day.”
Goro rolls his eyes, biting back the admission that Akira already has that. His eyelids begin to feel heavy again. “Alright,” he leans closer against Akira’s side, causing the blanket to fully slide down and spill onto the floor. “Surprise me.”
✧
It starts in spring, when the quantity of snowfall has gradually lessened and hints of green have become visible among the dried grass and weeds. Akira walks beside Goro on the way back from the supermarket, swinging the bags in his hand carelessly even though they contain the week’s meals.
“Your birthday is soon,” Akira says casually. Goro tosses him a questioning look.
“Do you even know what month it is?”
“March,” Akira replies immediately, then amends, “Which means I have less than three months.”
Goro doesn’t comment. An elderly couple passes them on the street, bundled up to their eyes in scarves and layers. He turns to make a joke, only to find Akira stopped walking several paces back.
“I just had a great idea.” Akira says, tone serious. Goro traces his gaze to a patch of dirt on someone’s lawn. Akira walks towards it, setting the bags down as he drops to his knees to examine it closer.
“Finally having thoughts, are we?” Goro quips, feeling the bags in his hand grow heavier by the second. He shifts uncomfortably, thankful his gloves keep the plastic handles from digging into his skin.
Akira turns to him, smiling. It’s radiant and so happy that Goro makes a small noise in surprise, and he has to avert his eyes so the blush he’s desperately fighting doesn’t show on his face. At Akira’s chuckle, he knows he’s failed.
“Best thought I’ve ever had.” Akira smirks, and then stands. He begins walking again like nothing ever happened, and Goro sighs as he follows behind.
✧
Throughout the months of April and May, Akira becomes harder to pin down. He always seems to be busy, too overworked and too popular. Goro makes an attempt to navigate between Akira’s part-time jobs and his friends’ crazy schedules to carve his own place, but it proves impossible. He thinks bitterly that maybe Akira is tired of him. Maybe he was happy with just being rivals instead of rivals and boyfriends.
Akira texts him when he’s free, and Goro replies a little too quickly to confirm his availability. He heads over to Leblanc with caution in his step, but his fears are unfounded when Akira sprints across the cafe to roughly kiss him against the door. There are no customers inside, but the act still makes him blush scarlet when Akira pulls away and leads him deeper inside.
Akira’s already made coffee, but he heats it up when Goro sits down anyway. He’s nervous and fidgety with energy, and Goro barely has a chance to make one remark about something mundane before Akira pulls him in for a kiss, and then another, and then drags him upstairs, coffee left forgotten on the counter.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” Akira mumbles into the fabric of Goro’s pants later that evening where his head is resting. The movie playing on the television fades into the background, Goro already having lost interest about twenty minutes ago. “I’ve really missed you.”
“Are you…” Goro starts to ask, then clears his throat. He pats Akira’s hair where his hand is tangled, and tugs on the strands lightly before letting go. He tries to keep his voice neutral, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“There is,” Akira admits easily. The honesty sends a shiver down Goro’s spine, even though he’s aware Akira doesn’t lie to him about things like this. “I’ll tell you soon, I promise.”
Goro tenses. Akira seems to notice and immediately lifts his head, eyes widening. He shifts to sit up. “It’s nothing bad,” he says quickly, removing Goro’s hand from his hair so he can hold it instead. “Trust me.”
“I didn’t imply anything,” Goro huffs, but he begrudgingly admits the reassurance does make him feel fractionally better. Akira leans forward and nuzzles at his neck, lightly kissing a path up until he places a soft kiss against his lips. When he pulls away, his expression when he looks at Goro is completely open. Trust me, his eyes seem to echo.
Trust. It used to be a fragile thing between them, the effects of betrayal and deception lingering in the air long after Maruki’s puppetshow reality. It had taken Akira only a handful of days to trust him again, while for Goro it took months. He wasn’t used to relying on people. He didn’t know what it meant to be relied on.
Akira takes his trust seriously. He knows that for certain, given all they’ve been through. Goro shifts his attention back to the television, crossing his free arm to hug his chest in nonchalance, and wills his emotions to stay off his face. “This movie is garbage. Put on something that isn’t a waste of my time or I’m leaving.”
Akira blinks before tipping his head back in laughter. He keeps holding Goro’s hand as he reaches for the remote. “Alright, alright. I’m on it.”
✧
“I can’t believe I missed your birthday,” Kurusu said, swirling the plastic straw of his drink to mix the colors together. The ambience of Jazz Jin gave it a blue hue, which quickly deepened to purple due to the stirring. There was a song playing, but the lyrics blended into the background haze. Despite the dim lightning, Kurusu was still the brightest point in the room.
“It’s alright, we weren’t acquainted at the time. You can’t know everything, after all.” Akechi replied pleasantly, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice. Kurusu opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then shook his head.
“So, what did you do?”
Akechi stilled. His birthday… he had an interview that day, didn’t he? Or was he at work? School? He found he couldn't remember without checking his calendar, so he pulled out the little notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped through the pages. Kurusu watched him do it with interest.
It took him a while to find it, given that it was now November. There was a television appearance scheduled for the first. On the third, he had a doctor’s appointment. Around this time, the Phantom Thieves were just beginning to gain acknowledgment in the media. Why is nothing written down for the second? What did he do? The only things he never wrote down for safety’s sake was his excursions to the Metaverse, which means…
Realizing Kurusu was still waiting for an answer, Akechi cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I can’t remember. It’s been quite a while, after all.”
Kurusu laughed. He leaned closer, smiling as he bumped their shoulders together. “You’re right. What did you do when you were younger, then?”
The memories float to the front of Akechi’s brain, and before he realizes it he’s sharing them openly. They didn’t have much in their run-down apartment, but his mother would always go all out for his sake, insisting his birthday was something worth celebrating. She’d bake him a cake and give him a gift – traditional birthday events – but they meant the world to his younger self.
“I wonder what landfill all those presents ended up in after I was put into the system,” Akechi paused his recollection to comment. Kurusu’s eyes widened, jaw slack in surprise. Akechi froze for a moment before regaining his composure, silently cursing himself for once again letting Kurusu’s willingness to just listen derail his thoughts. He feels his mask slip back into place, just as fake as Kurusu’s glasses.
What he remembered most about his earlier birthdays, though, is that his mother always stayed home. She was a busy woman, often working a few jobs at once to meet expenses, and aside from major holidays she never took any days off. Every year, on the second of June, he’d wake up to the smell of her cooking and go to sleep to the sound of her voice.
“She sounds lovely,” Kurusu whispered quietly when he finished. Akechi didn’t miss the use of present tense. “I’ll make sure I don’t miss your birthday next year.” He wrapped a hand around Akechi’s wrist, squeezing lightly.
“You’re too kind.” Akechi replied, fighting the urge to recoil at the contact. Kurusu wouldn’t live another week, let alone another year. He only has to endure this fake affection for a little while longer. “I look forward to it.”
✧
The rays of sunlight filter in through the window and hit Goro directly in the eye as he blinks away the remnants of the dream. It feels like it’s been a long time since he’s dreamt of anything, let alone a memory. At one point he was plagued by nightmares, but he learned to live with it.
Still a bit dazed, Goro glances beside him to find the bed empty. It isn’t surprising; Akira hadn’t stayed over since it was the middle of the week. He stretches his arm out and pats the side of the bed - Akira’s side - and lets his hand linger on the sheets. It’s warm from the sunlight, but cold without the other’s presence.
He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and begins to document the dream in his notes. He can’t help but wonder what he was doing back then. By the time he woke up in the hospital after Maruki, his calendar had been seized by the police along with a few of his belongings. Although, lurking Mementos for Shido does sound accurate. Even more so on a day that he was meant to celebrate himself. Bastard.
A sudden noise from the other room pierces the quiet of the morning. There’s the turning of a lock, and then the telltale creak signaling the apartment door is opening. Goro stills, zeroing in on the noise. According to his phone, it wasn’t even six in the morning yet. Who other than one of Shido’s cronies would be stupid enough to break in at dawn?
His question is answered seconds later. Something falls to the floor, and immediately he hears a curse follow. He recognizes the voice instantly, and runs a hand down his face in resignation. Of course it would have to be Akira.
There’s the loud sound of drawers rapidly opening and closing, as if he’s rummaging for something specific. There’s a clank as a utensil falls to the ground, followed by a pot. How Akira called himself a phantom thief was a question for the ages, as he was clearly shit at this job. He’ll wake up the entire complex at this rate.
Goro gives him a few minutes before he gets out of bed with a sigh. He has the courtesy to knock things over as he goes, helpfully alerting Akira he’s awake. When he opens the bedroom door, Akira looks like a deer caught in headlights in his kitchen. He’s holding a pot in one hand, a french press in the other, and a spatula between his teeth. He fidgets under Goro’s stare and tips the french press, coffee spilling out and staining the counter. He gasps, and down the spatula goes.
“You…” Goro growls, approaching him. He stands on the other side of the counter, assessing the mess with a glare. “Are you a fucking idiot? Breaking into my apartment at this hour?”
“You gave me a key,” Akira replies sheepishly. “I wanted to surprise you.” He sets down what he’s holding and reaches for the paper towels, quickly soaking up the spilt coffee and cleaning the area with practiced ease. Goro wordlessly watches him do it without helping.
“I was making breakfast for you,” Akira explains when he’s done. He flicks his eyes up, smiling proudly at Goro’s confusion. “Happy birthday. I remembered what you told me about your mom cooking for you, a long time ago. ” He shifts his gaze to the grocery bags he brought with him fondly. “Obviously I’m me, but I thought it would be nice. I never see you this early aside from on the weekends.”
Goro reaches out, grabs a fistfull of his shirt, and pulls him closer to kiss him over the counter. He has to admit this will forever be one of his favorite discoveries- Akira just loves kissing him. He kisses with his entire body, nervous hands immediately finding their way around Goro’s waist. He yanks him closer as much as the counter allows, melting into the kiss with a whimper. For a moment, it feels like nothing else matters in the world.
“Sit there,” Akira murmurs breathlessly when he pulls away. “I’m almost done.”
Goro complies, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He hits his thigh against the sharp edge of the counter as he turns, and bites back a curse as he rubs the spot quickly. This table once had only one chair to conserve space, but recently he went out and bought a second. It made sense, since Akira began staying over for breakfast every weekend. And for dinner.
Akira places an omelet and a cup of coffee on the table, smiling softly as he takes the other seat across from him.
“I hope you like it,” he bats his eyelashes flirtatiously. Goro rolls his eyes as he takes a bite. Omelets are not what he usually makes, but it tastes so delicious that he’d believe Akira specialized in them. He lets himself be observed as he finishes the whole thing, washing it down with a sip of coffee.
“I grew those,” Akira comments, nodding towards the french press on the counter. “The beans, I mean.”
Goro quirks his eyebrow up. “Did you learn that from…?”
“Haru’s great,” Akira confirms with a smile. “I told her I wanted to do this for you, so that’s the reason I’ve been so busy. Well, partially.”
“Partially?” Goro presses immediately before he can stop himself. Akira laughs at him, making his cheeks flush in embarrassment.
“You’ll see. I have a whole day planned. Hurry up and finish.”
“I have work,” Goro replies, letting his gaze drop down to the placemat in front of him. Akira seems unperturbed, standing up to do the dishes with leisure as if his revelation means nothing.
“Just call her.”
✧
“My apologies, Sae-san,” Goro speaks into the phone, realizing he sounds tired. Akira is in the other room, patiently waiting for him so they can head out. “It seems something has come—”
“It’s your birthday, Makoto told me.” Sae doesn’t sound surprised he’s calling. She’s using the same tone she’d use if a client pointed out something obvious. “Don’t come in today.”
“Ah, I…see.” Goro says after a moment. He hears her laugh on the other end.
“Happy birthday. Say hi to Akira-kun,” Sae adds, and then the line goes dead.
✧
They spend a majority of the day in Kichijoji. Akira leads Goro by the hand down the backstreets, recounting stories and memories as they go. It’s surreal hearing Akira say, I always hoped you’d be here when I got off the train in broad daylight. He lets these confessions spill from his lips freely, without a hint of shame or concern.
There’s a new arcade that’s opened up a few shops down from Penguin Sniper, and it’s there that Goro learns Akira’s aim has improved. It’s at the point where he wishes he could reach up and tear his mask off to summon Loki or even Robin and fight with all he has, right here in the middle of the room between the dancing games and prize redemption corner.
“You’ve gotten quite good at this,” Goro comments casually when he’s lost. The familiar flames of competition flicker at the edge of his thoughts as he stares at the GAME OVER screen.
“Thanks, I’ve been practicing.” Akira replies, putting away the toy gun. He leans over when he does it, lips hovering over Goro’s cheek for just a second before placing a quick kiss there. When he straightens, he’s smiling. Goro traces his fingers over the spot, wishing he could keep the fleeting warmth there forever.
“If only you had been this good in the Metaverse,” Goro quips, dropping his hand to fold his arms. “You were a terrible shot, always missing me during combat.”
“Oh honey,” Akira chuckles, and wraps his arm loosely around Goro’s shoulders to pull him in. “You have no idea.”
Before Goro can begin to decipher what the hell that means, he’s being dragged out of the arcade and down the street into Penguin Sniper. Akira pays the charge for the both of them, happily showing Goro off like he’s a prize. When they approach the billiards table, he drops his arm, offering a pool cue to Goro’s waiting left hand.
“Let’s kill some hours until sunset,” Akira says as he sets up the table. “Maybe you’ll beat me at something today.”
Goro snorts, “Keep your ego in check, Kurusu.”
✧
Akira steps off the train with purpose. He reaches for Goro’s hand, linking their fingers together once more as he leads them through the city. The number of people they pass decreases gradually, and they end up on a dirt path outside the city that heads in the direction of Inokashira Park.
When they arrive at the entrance, Akira turns to face him expectantly. He traces a line from Goro’s jaw down to his neck, then slides it downwards to tug at his tie.
“I need this,” Akira murmurs, toying at the knot with a finger.
“My tie?” Goro narrows his eyes, but keeps his tone light. “Whatever for?”
“To blindfold you.” At Goro’s eyebrows raising, Akira quickly adds, “I need both hands to guide you, and I don’t want you to see where we’re going until we get there.”
“Why don’t I just close my eyes?”
“You’ll peek,” Akira accuses. Goro rolls his eyes fondly - he’s right, although he’d never admit it.
With minor reluctance, Goro sighs and undoes his tie. He deposits the fabric into Akira’s waiting palm, only to have it draped over his eyes a moment later. It’s tied on too tight, the pressure almost unbearable.
“Akira–”
“Sorry,” Akira replies quickly, relaxing the bind. “There. Can you see anything?”
“...No.”
“Great,” Akira places his hands on his shoulders. It’s a bit uncomfortable relinquishing control to another person like this. Goro knows the tie could be ripped off at a moment’s notice, but becoming aware that he’s letting himself be led to a location blindly is still a lot to take in.
Akira pushes him forward slightly, and Goro takes a step. Then another, and then he’s walking with Akira’s hands glued to his back.
The trail leads deeper into the forest, and for a minute Goro entertains the idea that maybe Akira is making good on his promise and taking them out here for a fight. With the Metaverse long gone, their rematch has been put on indefinite hold. They compete in other ways, sure – a witty remark to best the other, intense games of chess that last until dawn, even pinning each other’s wrists to the bed to fight for control in the bedroom – yet nothing has come close to being the same.
“Are you thinking I’m going to kill you?” Akira whispers close to his ear. Goro suppresses a shiver. “You’re smirking.”
Goro chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I recalled that you still have my glove. I saw it in your dresser the other day.”
“I carried it in my pocket for a while,” Akira admits in response. His hair tickles the side of Goro’s face as he leans forward to give him a kiss on the neck. It’s at an odd angle, but Goro bares his neck anyway out of habit and smiles when he feels Akira grip him tighter. “When the Metaverse comes back, I’ll kick your ass.”
Goro can’t help the bark of laughter that comes out. Akira muffles his own laugh into his shoulder. “Please. Stop embarrassing yourself when you know how capable I am of proving you wrong.”
“Yeah yeah,” Akira stops suddenly, bringing them to a halt. His hands slide over the back of Goro’s neck and tug once at the tie to undo the loose knot he made. The tie slips from his face and he catches it just before it falls to the ground. “Anyway, we’re here.”
The sight before them is breathtaking. It’s best described as an ocean of blossoms, different blooms of wildflowers coating the grass before them like waves on the shore. Everywhere Goro looks he sees more flowers, hues of violet, orange, yellows, and blue sprinkled all around. He’s never seen so many flowers in his life. He doesn’t even think he’s seen this many in the sappy movies Akira forced him to watch.
It’s odd, though. The sight is beautiful enough to be a tourist attraction, yet there’s no one around. They’re also far enough from the main road that there’s no way Akira stumbled across this by pure chance. Goro turns to him with a question on his lips, but when he sees the expression on his face the words die in his throat. Akira looks proud. His glance flicks to Goro, expression softening, and all at once it clicks.
“You planted these,” Goro states, and Akira grins wildly in confirmation.
“Do you like them?”
“...I do.” Goro looks over the flowers. They stretch out far into the clearing, and he feels an emotion he can’t place swell in his chest. “How did you do this?
“With some help,” Akira laughs, and takes his hand. He leads them through the patches of flowers, carefully stepping into gaps so he doesn’t crush any. Goro tries to follow suit, avoiding the vivid flora underneath his heel. He spots familiar flowers on the way, ones he’s seen Akira wrap into bouquets at his job or bring home as gifts. He zeroes in on the forget-me-not and poppys with interest.
“I found the place a while back, when I went on a walk,” Akira says, glancing around. “Ann and Sumire picked out the flowers, Futaba helped track down the seeds.” He stops in an empty spot and pulls on Goro’s hand, hooking an arm around his waist to reel him in. Goro’s hands come to rest softly against his chest. “Ryuji helped me spread them, and Yusuke decided the best pattern.”
“I see. So instead of a party, you coerced them into manual labor.”
Akira laughs, so Goro goes on, “I’m surprised they’d put that much effort in for me.”
“You’re one of us, whether you like it or not.”
The sun is setting, casting an orange hue over the grassy field. The distant clouds make the scene look picturesque, unreal. Goro drops to his knees, taking the other with him, and he’s barely able to admire a single flower up close before Akira starts picking at the ones around them, depositing them into Goro’s lap.
“You’re ruining your hard work,” Goro remarks, but he’s chuckling as Akira speeds up his efforts tenfold. Soon his lap is overflowing with color, and he lifts up the flowers in his arms to cradle them close.
“I hope this was a good surprise,” Akira whispers, leaning over to press their foreheads together. His hands come up to hold Goro’s face, and he rests his elbow against Goro’s thigh. “I hope I redeemed myself for the break-in this morning, too.”
“This is alright,” Goro comments, not bothering to hide the emotion in his voice. “It would be better if you’d stop talking and kiss me already.”
Akira does.