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Goro had never really understood Akira’s fascination with part-time jobs. The money he and his gaggle of friends made from the Metaverse had to be enough to last them, especially with that airsoft shop he went to to sell the things that didn’t have any intrinsic value. And yet, so far, Goro had surmised he worked as the seeming sole employee of a beef bowl shop, a cashier at the 777 in Shibuya, unpaid help at Leblanc, paid help at Untouchables, and a waiter at a goddamn crossdressing bar Goro had no fucking clue how he was allowed in and had no intention to figure out; one glimpse at his rival all dressed up in luxurious fabrics and glimmering jewelry was enough for a fucking lifetime. Seeing his smirking lips painted a deep red like the color of his gloves in the Metaverse, those goddamn lashes accentuated by mascara and his eyelids dusted a smoky violet, his silver eyes practically glowing in the low lighting— Goro had decided whatever went on there wasn’t important enough to keep an eye on(even though he itched to follow anytime he saw him take the train towards Shinjuku)
Regardless, the boy certainly kept himself busy. So stumbling upon a fifth part-time job at a flower shop in the underground mall of Shibuya really shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d seen him take the stairs down a fair few times, but always assumed he was either going shopping or meeting Takamaki, who often seemed to stand around among the stores. He didn’t want to risk either of them spotting him. Talking with Kurusu was fine, adding Takamaki to the mix… That was dangerous. She always seemed to be watching him. Always seemed to know more than she should. Like she could look straight into his shriveled up heart and pluck out whatever buried emotions and thoughts she wanted.
He should have done a better job investigating. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be frozen in the middle of the busy walkway, staring, mutely, as Kurusu picked flowers out of various buckets and arranged them into vases and bouquets, surrounded by leaves and flowers of every color, moving around the shop with the fluid, easy grace he had at Leblanc, that goddamn smile he always got when he was preparing coffee, soft and easy and unguarded, lost in his work, utterly at ease, at home, happy . Goro would bet every single yen in his bank account he was humming under his breath, his voice that low, rumbling, slightly uneven pitch, utterly imperfect and infuriatingly beautiful.
Move, he told himself as Kurusu turned to hand his latest bouquet to a customer with a kind, slightly too bright smile. He’ll spot you soon. Fucking MOVE— Too late. Kurusu’s smile dropped as his eyes swept over the crowd, sharp and cutting behind his glasses, sensing he was being watched, too perceptive for his own good, searching for a threat— He blinked in surprise, face going completely blank. Move, Goro once again urged himself. Turn around and fucking leave. He had just managed to get his feet off the floor and was about to step back when Kurusu’s lips tugged up into a delighted smile, gunmetal grey eyes dancing behind those goddamn glasses as he waved a hand at him.
And suddenly it was all too fucking easy to move. Goro heard both of his Persona laughing hysterically at him as he stepped forward, seemingly in a trance, just barely able to hitch up his Detective Prince smile instead of gawking like a fool or scowling at the laughter in his mind. Fuck. Fuck. This was— not good. Very not good. They were in public. Very much in public. And yet Kurusu was wearing that same smile as he got in Leblanc, all soft contentment, genuine joy to see him, and Goro felt that familiar, choking feeling stir in his chest, the one that made him do and say stupid, impulsive things, the one that made him forget his act.
“Akechi.” Kurusu said happily when he came to a stop before him. “Hey. I’ve never seen you here before.”
Goro swallowed and gave a bright, slightly too hollow laugh. “Yes, well, I’m not here often. I had no idea you worked at this place.”
Kurusu shrugged a shoulder, smiling almost sheepishly. “I work at lots of places.” He said, one hand coming up to tug at his bangs. “Gotta keep you on your toes after all.” He looked up at him, smile crooked and a bit weak, seeming strangely… nervous. Uneasy. Shifting on his feet, picking at his nail polish, twirling his fringe around his fingers.
He doesn’t want me here, Goro realised. I’ve intruded on his safe space. It was clear this job was special to him. Was something more than 777 or that beef bowl shop, something more private and close to his heart. With how off-guard and nervous he looked, Goro wouldn’t be surprised if most of his friends didn’t know about this place. He felt a dark twist of satisfaction at that. At having one more piece of the puzzle that was Akira Kurusu that they didn’t.
“That so?” He asked pleasantly, because he didn’t know what else to say. He was just as caught off guard as Kurusu and neither of them had any fucking clue what to do.
Kurusu hummed affirmatively and they lapsed into silence, neither knowing what to say to get them out of this horrid situation, Kurusu rocking back on his heels and staring up at him over the edge of his glasses, Goro standing still as a statue and hoping someone else would come get him out of here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn’t want to be here. This was a special place for Kurusu and he— he just— It felt too intimate. Too much like a secret shared between friends. And as much as he adored having this new piece of information, he also really didn’t want to be stuck here anymore, with Kurusu’s smile strangely soft and open, with the world around them a dull buzz that no longer mattered.
He opened his mouth to excuse himself just as Kurusu’s eyes lit up with a small ‘oh!’. He turned around to ravage the endless buckets of flowers and leaving while he had his back turned felt far too much like fleeing for his tastes, so he just stared blankly at his back, growing more uneasy by the second. Kurusu turned back with two flowers held between his fingers, a blooming, blue rose and a small, pink cluster of petals Goro didn’t know the name of. He held them out between them with a warm, slightly nervous smile, looking just as unsure as Goro felt.
“For you.” He said simply, and Goro’s heart stopped dead in his chest.
For you . For you. For you . Goro stared mutely, frozen, unsure what to say, what to do, how to reject them. Just say no , his mind told him. Tell him no. We don’t want them. We don’t want them . “Oh.” He said softly, too softly, feeling his chest constrict with something between anger and surprise and— and— “I see.” He reached out, taking the flowers, careful not to damage them. “Thank you, Kurusu-kun.”
Kurusu smiled at him, looking so unbearably pleased, and Goro’s hand tightened around the flowers. Pathetic. This was all so fucking— pathetic. Idiotic. Giving him flowers like they were some sort of couple, like it was something to do, like it didn’t make Goro’s chest ache and his throat close up because how fucking dare he act like they were anything more than— “I’ll leave you to your work.” He said, to keep from throwing the damn flowers in Kurusu’s stupid goddamn face.
“Yeah.” Kurusu replied. “See you later.”
Goro turned away, marching silently through the halls with the fragile little stalks clutched in his hand. So goddamn stupid. Kurusu was such a sentimental fucking moron. Smiling like that whenever he saw him, waving him closer even though he had nothing to say, acting like there was anything about Goro he might actually care for that went deeper than the mask he’d shown him. He was such a goddamn moron . Why the fuck did he always— Goro came to a stop in a deserted hallway, leaning against a wall to catch his breath. So utterly stupid. Such saccharine bullshit.
He looked down at the flowers in his hand, the blue rose and the pink petals, slightly bent from the force he held them with. He felt his grip loosen without meaning to. They meant something. He knew they meant something. Kurusu didn’t do anything half-way, he always put in the extra effort, so they had to mean something. He just didn’t know what. Didn’t want to know. Knew he could figure it out, knew he could google it, knew he could ask. Knew he probably should. He let his head fall back against the wall, staring blankly up at the concrete ceiling above him.
“Flowers, huh?” He muttered to himself.
He should just throw them away. He would. The next trash can he saw, he would throw them in. They weren’t important. They were stupid and frivolous, fragile things that would die within the week. Keeping them would be what Kurusu wanted. It would be stooping to his level. It would be stupid and sentimental and all those things Goro despised so damn much about his rival. It would be letting him win. Goro tucked the flowers into his pocket. And told himself he’d throw them away later.