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Goro watches the front door swing open as Akira barges through it, two large boxes stacked so high in his arms it only leaves a pair of glasses and a bird’s nest of hair peeking out above it. Goro told him he should take multiple trips, but Akira’s never one to pass up an opportunity to show off.
“This is the last of it,” Akira tells him, plopping the boxes onto the floor with a grunt. One has kitchen written in sharpie along the side of it, the other marked with a similar bathroom. “Thank god that’s over with.”
While Goro’s relieved they won’t have to keep making trips to the moving truck, the two having to take the elevator down twelve floors each time, he frowns looking at their mediocre arrangement of boxes. Do they really only have one box of kitchen stuff between the two of them? One box?!
It’s no secret that Goro never kept many luxuries in his previous apartment—especially not anything related to cooking. But Akira was the one who’d always berate him for keeping his space so empty. And it’s because of that bickering that Goro never realized how little Akira actually owns for himself.
Most of Akira’s things Goro’s unpacked so far have been knick-knacks, serving no purpose other than looking pretty on a shelf. Goro also discovered Akira’s folded sheets that won’t even fit their new bed, a bottle of two-in-one shampoo he’s getting out of this household as soon as possible, and the one single pillow Akira’s been sleeping on since he was first sentenced to a year in Tokyo. Absolutely none of this will do. While Goro’s not huge on material possession, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a pile of pillows so excessive Morgana could get lost in it. And then hopefully smothered in the process.
All in all, Goro’s not entirely sure what he was expecting. For Akira to steal Leblanc’s entire kitchen, maybe?
“I guess…we should go ahead and unpack this stuff,” Goro says after a moment. It’s not disappointment that he feels, but he definitely doesn’t love how empty the apartment is turning out to be. Goro’s been looking forward to living with his boyfriend for a long time—a long, long time. He’s thought about it constantly throughout the years they’ve been together, even having toyed with the thought before their relationship was made official, but that usually led to him clenching his fists by his sides and forcing himself to stop living in a fantasy.
Now that it’s finally happening, Goro’s beyond excited to share a home with Akira.
But he didn’t expect it to feel less like a home and more like… a sterile living space. Like he’s still in his old apartment and Akira’s only visiting before crawling back to his lonely attic. This place feels too impersonal, when all Goro wants is something to feel like theirs. He wants something warm and cozy he looks forward to coming back to in the evenings. He wants every corner of every room to remind him of Akira, and vice versa. For the first time since he was that naive child in an orphanage, Goro just wants a home.
But for now they should focus on unpacking. Who knows; maybe their one box of kitchen stuff holds more memories than he anticipates.
“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Akira says after bringing said box to the counter, a pair of scissors easily gliding through the tape holding it together. He sets them aside before extending both index fingers to do a lackluster drumroll on the cardboard flaps. The simplicity of it makes Goro smile.
“First off,” Akira starts, “We have some plates, courtesy of one Goro Akechi.” He sets the stack on the counter to free his hands again. They’re plain white, and there’s only about four or five of them, clearly made to serve a side dish considering no full meal could ever fit on the small surface. At least, not the meals Akira likes to make. “I almost forgot you had those, considering you like your paper plates so much.”
Goro sharpens his eyes at his boyfriend’s comment. “Their convenience was tailored specifically for busy people.”
“I know, I know. It was surprising at first, though. I used to assume paper plates weren’t elegant enough for you.”
“The things I do in private aren’t very elegant at all.”
Akira winks. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Goro rolls his eyes. He’s learned it’s better to not encourage this genre of teasing. “What else is in there?”
Akira’s hands disappear into the box once more. “We’ve got… a couple mugs,” he says, fingers expertly snaked around four handles as he retrieves them. Three of the mugs Goro recognizes from Leblanc, and the odd one out reigns from his own small collection of things. Though it didn’t get much use when it resided in Goro’s kitchen. He hasn’t needed to make instant coffee for years now.
“Some chopsticks—” All wooden, wrapped in white takeout paper, “—rice cooker—” Again: Goro’s, “—and, uh…” Akira reaches deeper into the box, face coloring slightly as he fetches the next item. “Oh, heh. I grabbed this at the last minute before I left,” he says as he brings a whisk into the light, “I figured I couldn’t leave it after...the things you did with it.”
Goro perks up immediately, grabbing the utensil by the thick handle he remembers well. “My whisk!”
Akira puts on a fond smile. “That’s our whisk now, honey.”
Goro’s matching smile can’t be helped.
“Anything else?” he asks hopefully. Surely there has to be more hiding away in a box so large. Otherwise that would’ve been poor packing skills on their part.
“I was saving the best for last,” Akira grins, two of his hands grabbing something Goro can’t see. “Behold! Our very own curry pot!”
Sure enough, when Akira’s hands emerge from the box he brings a large pot with him, a plain dark brown ceramic with handles on either side and a lid sitting on top. It’s not very extravagant of an item, but it still causes a rush of fuzzy feelings to bubble in Goro’s chest. Imagining Akira making curry at the end of the day, being treated with his favorite meal that Akira puts so much love into… that’s exactly what Goro wants in a home.
“Sojiro thought it would be a good housewarming gift.” Akira’s grin is still toothy as he spins the pot in his grip, before finally setting it gently on the counter. “Speaking of, Ann says we have to throw a housewarming party once we’re done unpacking.”
Goro’s brows pinch. “We’re being forced to throw a party?”
“That’s just one of the joys of having our own place, honey,” Akira attempts at consolation. It doesn’t work. “We get to have our friends over and show them how awesome our lives are.”
“Yeah, with all the shit we have,” Goro mutters, a frown taking over his features once again. Akira picks up on it, that much made obvious by the fingers taking Goro’s chin in his grasp.
“Hey.” Akira’s lips fall into their own frown as he meets Goro’s gaze. Great—now Goro’s gone and infected him with his sulking. “I know we don’t have a ton of flashy decorations, but that doesn’t matter, okay? We get to build our home now. I’m sure this place will be filled with stuff in a year from now.”
Goro knows he’s right, but that infuriating inkling at the back of his mind doesn’t disappear. He doesn’t want to wait a year from now.
“And we haven’t even unpacked half our boxes yet,” Akira continues while Goro stays silent. “We have those pictures of us, the crane game plushies we won each other, those ugly vases from our pottery date, all your pillows.”
“Multiple pillows are necessary for neck and upper back support.” When Akira raises a disbelieving brow, Goro rolls his eyes with a huff. “No wonder your posture is so bad.”
“And no wonder you’re such a pillow princess.”
Goro smacks him.
“Okay, ow,” Akira drones, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder. “The point is, honey, we’re gonna get more things as time goes on. Fill this place up with even more memories.”
“We should still go shopping,” Goro insists. He needs to get this urge out of him before it eats him alive.
“Mm, our first shopping trip for our apartment.” Despite standing on the edge of Goro’s personal space, Akira sounds miles away in his daydreaming. “That definitely sounds like fun.”
Now that they’re on the same page, Goro turns to scrutinize the items on the counter and determine what necessities they need. As he does, he notices something still sitting in the box.
“Oh.” Goro pulls it up by the handle, squinting curiously at the floral print on ceramic. “This is the weird gravy boat that appeared in my kitchen. I have no idea where it came from.”
“Wait, you’re the one who packed this?” Akira seems somewhat amused by the prospect. Goro answers with a nod, and Akira snorts. “Funny. Boss was just complaining about a missing gravy boat a few months ago.”
Goro’s eyes widen. “This is from—? No, no it’s…”
“Honey,” Akira cuts in, his smile gleaming with delight. “Did you steal a gravy boat from Leblanc when you were drunk?”
“No!” Goro immediately snaps. “Why would I—? Maybe you brought it to my place when you were drunk.”
“Now why would I do that?”
“Be–because that’s what you do when you’re drunk! You abandon your friends to visit me, and you say you’ll make me dinner and start a bath for us. Then you always get distracted before doing either of those things!”
“Well, you’re distracting,” Akira defends himself, and suddenly he’s closer than he was before, a pair of hands inching down Goro’s hips before settling in the back pockets of his pants. His lips hover just above Goro’s own, and Goro’s practically paralyzed by the sight. As though it’s his first time being in this position and not his thousandth or so.
“I never claimed I’m not.” Goro’s hands find Akira’s shoulders, and he pulls him in the rest of the way until their lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s slow at first, but still tantalizing as their tongues brush together lazily, an endless rhythm of push-and-pull. But just when Goro feels Akira’s grip tighten on his ass, feels his tongue start to move with a little more force— Goro decides to cut things short, his hands on Akira’s chest preventing him from surging back in.
“So,” Goro begins with a smirk, “I assume this is your way of confessing to stealing the gravy boat?”
“Yeah, it was totally me.” Despite his admittance, Akira seems somewhat distant as he tries to lean in again. “If that’s what you want me to say…”
Strengthening the resistance against his chest, Goro pushes him away before he can get too close.
“Shopping,” Goro reminds him, to which Akira essentially pouts.
“You don’t wanna unpack first? Or break in our new mattress?”
“We can unpack later,” Goro decides firmly. “And I’m sure you can keep it in your pants for a couple hours.”
“You don’t know that…”
Goro raises a teasing brow. “I suppose I could leave you here to jerk off while I—”
“No!” Akira blurts. The tension melts from his shoulders once he realizes he’s resigned himself to an afternoon of shopping, and he sighs without trying to bargain out of it. “I’ll go get my wallet.”
He disappears into the half-unpacked bedroom, and Goro takes the time to slip on his shoes by the front door, searching his phone for the nearest department store in this new neighborhood he’ll call home.
The two arrive at a Bed Bath & Beyond type store hand-in-hand (they have coupons), and Goro’s already organizing a detailed list of necessities in his head. His mental planning proves itself useless, however, when they’re met with infinite aisles containing every product in the universe, Goro’s mind instantly going blank at the sight.
He doesn’t even know where to start. He stares wide-eyed into the abyss of furniture, utensils, and decorations. Appliances, electronics, and toys. Where does it end?!
Goro stands frozen for so long that a few customers have to step around the couple in order to exit the store. Akira speaks up after a beat, sensing Goro’s feeling overwhelmed.
“Why don’t we go through each aisle and see what we need,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over Goro’s knuckles where their fingers intertwine. “That’ll be easier than tracking down each item one by one.”
Goro nods. As intimidating as the store is, he’s excited to pick out items he and Akira might still be using years from now. The thought makes him warm with a sense of calmness.
With hands still clasped together, the pair of new roommates approach the first aisle of what feels like hundreds. The shelves are stocked with items that might be seen in an airline catalogue—useless electronics stacked in identical large boxes, things no one really needs but could easily be convinced otherwise. As they wander further Goro takes note of mini-fridges and wine coolers, polaroid cameras and portable foot spas. It’s all a bunch of junk, yet reaching the end of the aisle causes a nagging feeling to rise in Goro’s chest. They need to get something, don’t they? They’ll never build a real home by just window shopping.
And it’s with that thought that Goro goes for the nearest product he sees.
“An air purifier?” Akira questions, confusion heavy in his voice watching Goro dump the box in their cart.
“I read about these in a magazine,” Goro explains absentmindedly. Only a half lie—he did see an ad for an air purifier in a copy of Vague he bought simply because Ann was on the cover. “They’re great for… purifying air.”
“I’d hope so,” Akira jokes. “If it’s something you think we need, I have no issue getting it.”
“We do need it.” Goro has no idea if they need it. “Unless you want to live in a place as dusty as your attic.”
Akira’s expression sours at the thought. “Pure air is probably a good call,” he says, and with that, he’s pushing the cart onward and leading Goro to the next aisle.
This one contains pet supplies: food, toys, litter—all the things Akira already has for his kitty best friend in an unpacked box at home. But as they hurry through the aisle, spending less time analyzing the products here than the last, the same nettlesome feeling returns to Goro, something akin to dread at the notion of leaving empty handed.
So he searches the shelves until something catches his attention, perking up as he announces to his boyfriend; “We should get a cat tower.”
“Uh…” Akira’s brows furrow as he stops in his tracks. “Why? I mean, I always assumed collars were more your thing, but I guess if you wanna get immersive—”
“Not for me, dumbass,” Goro bites. “I’m talking about the cat I’ll be living with. I don’t want him clawing at our couch when he gets hyper after dinner.”
If Morgana ever gets his ass off Ann’s couch once the moving process is over, that is. But if he decides to stay there instead of getting his fur all over their new apartment, Goro certainly won’t stop him.
“I guess that makes sense,” Akira ponders aloud after a moment. “I’m sure it’ll make Mona happy to know you’re thinking about him.”
“Thinking about how he’s a danger to our apartment.” Goro lifts the cat tower and places it into their cart, the scratching pole taking up more than half the space by itself.
“We’re gonna run out of room,” Akira comments, reading Goro’s mind. “Do you think we’ll need another cart?”
“I can go get one,” Goro offers. He cranes his head around to get a general idea of their vicinity, as well as the aisles yet traversed up ahead. “You head towards the kitchen area and pick out what we need. I’ll meet you there.”
He steps forward to deliver a chaste kiss, Akira’s wistful expression seeming more suitable for weeks of separation rather than five minutes at most.
Goro snorts when he pulls away. “Try not to get lost without me.”
“I’m always lost without you,” Akira teases back, and with that Goro’s shoving him towards the cart, though a warm smile refuses to leave his face as he journeys to the front of the store.
Only after fetching a new cart does Goro realize his mistake.
The aisles are labeled, sure. But with the sheer amount of stuff this store offers, finding the kitchen area Akira ran off to will be an adventure on its own. Goro bristles; Akira should’ve never let him leave his side! What a stupid oversight that’s completely and entirely his fault.
Goro begins his trek into the great unknown the only way he can: by searching every aisle one by one until he finds his missing boyfriend. Skipping the two he already conquered, the following aisles are exclusive to bath products, and the curiosity causes Goro’s steps to pause. They have most bathroom essentials already—he’d know considering the first box he unpacked contained all his skin care products—but he still feels himself being pulled in by temptation. Attracted to the shelves like a moth to a flame.
The towels look soft, he notes. Soft enough to reach out and run his fingers over the threads. Goro already has nice enough towels to use, but Akira… Akira could use some. He uses a towel so cheap even a public pool wouldn’t allow it in their vicinity, not to mention that he doesn’t use anything to dry his hair. Goro adds two towels to his cart and decides to throw in a nearby robe while he’s at it, again for Akira. Goro already owns a few for himself, obviously, and as a good boyfriend he plans to share this life of luxury with his housemate.
Satisfied with his choices Goro continues down the aisle, throwing in item after item as he does. A set of washcloths ends up next to some hand soap (various scents). A bath mat is a must-have, and Goro even decides to throw in a loofah for the hell of it. He already has too many beauty products to count, but what’s a few more? Ann’s always telling him to ‘treat himself,’ after all.
Chapstick, lotion, and sheet masks get added to the pile, in addition to a hairbrush for his boyfriend (who rarely brushes his hair). In a last minute decision, Goro also decides to grab some bubble bath as well. For reasons.
The next couple rows greet him with bedroom decor, which is where Goro’s brain seems to malfunction the most. He can do this. He definitely knows what makes a bedroom feel personal, and he can find the things to do just that. Even if his only experience with decoration is on Pinterest.
He steps past the dressers and storage units without bothering to browse. They already have shelves for Akira’s knick-knacks, a desk and two unpacked bedside tables, which is double the amount of decor Goro had in his old room. (They’ll have to set up the nightstands themselves, and Goro already expects something to be broken in the process.)
So as Goro stares down a corridor of lamps and mirrors, hampers and potted plants, all he can think about is how he really knows nothing about domestic life. It’s ridiculous, feeling so detached from something that should be so simple. He feels like he’s missed out on so many mandatory human experiences. He can’t even build a home because of how foreign the concept is.
Hangers. They could definitely use more hangers, considering Akira’s kept his clothes shoved in boxes since he moved back to Tokyo. And curtains, a creamy beige to match the comforter Goro lugged from his old bed. Though he doesn’t know which size of curtains to get, so he just decides to grab one of each size offered in the vast selection. They can figure it out later.
The amount of lamps in this store is staggering. Floor lamps, table lamps, ceiling lamps and wall lamps dominate two entire aisles, and the variety of shapes and colors is the most impressive. There’s some made to look like clouds and stars, long snake-like floor lamps and twinkle lights. Long spirals, hearts, and flowers. Lamps that look more like vases, and some weird hanging-light schemes. The amount of responsibility to make the right choice certainly weighs on Goro.
He somehow manages to survive the Lamp Domain Of Doom with some options for Akira to comment on: an old-fashioned lightbulb lamp and a cute little number that resembles a bonsai. He also decides to throw in a small night light shaped like a crescent moon, just because he knows Akira will like it.
A few candles? You bet! But the real question is if he should get a fake houseplant or a real one (shit, why did he and Akira split up again?), so Goro ends up adding both to the growing pile in his cart to sort out later. A few more picture frames can’t hurt, for the memories he and Akira want to display in the future. And a bedroom rug is crucial, as is a mat to go by their front door. And you know Goro picks up a few more pillows when he comes across them. Just in case the ones he has end up getting flat or something.
Emerging from the maze of bedroom artifacts, Goro passes walls of printers and fax machines before finally stumbling on the kitchen area. There’s no sign of Akira at first glance, so Goro checks another aisle and also finds it lacking his messy-haired boyfriend. Odd. Goro hadn’t thought he’d taken that long to get here.
It’s fine—Goro can text him if he doesn’t show up again soon. He’ll just keep himself busy by looking around in the meantime.
Though Goro has complete faith in Akira to compile everything they’ll need in their kitchen, he has to wonder how thorough he was in his shopping. There’s a few things that catch his eye, calling out Goro’s name. He may not be the most proficient in cooking, but he can certainly work his way around a blender, and he picks out one that looks the most modern while also being easy to use. He also grabs a tiny handheld blender, just in case there’s any emergencies in which blending is needed on the go.
Still no sign of Akira, but the sets of very sharp knives distract Goro in the meantime, deciding on his favorites before they find a new home in his cart. A couple sponges keep them company, hand towels and oven mitts Goro likes the design of. He indulges in an apron he’d like to see Akira wear, and an armful of extra plates and cups he’s sure will come in handy. Of course they need bowls and a kettle, spatulas and spoons and ice trays and a strainer (whatever that’s used for), and one by one each item gets added to Goro’s Special Stash Of Things as he wanders onward. He even throws in a few cutting boards, imagining himself slicing veggies for dinner while Akira handles anything involving a burner. The thought is a nice one—Goro could even use the opportunity to test out his new knives!
It’s with that thought in mind that Goro picks up a knife sharpener. Just in case.
The tablecloths here are a little fancy for his and Akira’s tastes, but if they’re really meant to throw their own housewarming party in the coming days, a little fanciness couldn’t hurt, right? Either way, white is out of the question, as is any light-colored fabric for that matter. Goro can already imagine Sakamoto digging through their fridge and breaking out their nicest red wine, not even having the decency to use a glass in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. Goro grits his teeth. Just the thought of his and Akira’s imaginary tablecloth being ruined by that baboon makes him—
“Babe!”
Goro instantly glances up at the sound of Akira’s voice, his expression returning to what it was before his Sakamoto-induced rage as his boyfriend comes barreling down the aisle. It’s not lost on Goro how full his cart is; it overflows with even more items than his own, enough to test the laws of physics with every rushed step forward.
“You should’ve seen the As Seen on TV section! They had everything.” Amidst his excitement, Akira’s eyes widen once he’s close enough to take in the state of Goro’s cart. “Woah. That’s a lot of knives.”
For a short moment Goro feels at peace in his boyfriend’s presence, relieved he won’t have to make any tablecloth-related decisions on his own. But when he finally settles his gaze on the contents of Akira’s cart, all that relief fades as Goro’s face falls.
He hasn’t taken this seriously in the slightest! There’s only a few not-completely-useless items at the bottom of his cart—some pots and pans and coffee preparation basics Goro doesn’t know the name of, and a roomba. But those few items lay buried beneath a pile of junk. A bunch of trash with zero practical use in their home. Was Akira shopping with his eyes closed or something?
“Were you shopping with your eyes closed or something?” Goro decides to voice aloud, because seriously. Why would they ever need light-up slippers?!
“Why? Do you think I missed something?” Akira asks genuinely. So naive. So innocent. “I was trying to find stuff you’d like too, and uh, well.” He gestures to a shake weight seated at the top of the pile, “This seemed like it would be up your alley.”
Goro would glare at him if he wasn’t so busy glaring at everything else. A Rubix cube, a magnetic wallet, a lava lamp. An ice cream maker, a chia pet, a carshield window cover (they don’t even own a car!). A jillion products with the most unappealing names, like the Battery Daddy, George Foreman grill, and a tool made specifically for slicing hard boiled eggs. Probably nowhere near as sharp as Goro’s knives.
“What makes you think we’ll use any of this?” A remote control helicopter? A flashlight claiming to be the brightest in the world? Goro’s sure Akira will shove it all in a drawer and forget about it the next day.
“Come on, a ton of this stuff is useful! I bet we could get really cozy in this, eh?” Akira gestures to a pop-up tent made for children, resembling a pink princess tower.
“That probably can’t even fit both of us.”
Akira wiggles his brows. “We’ll just have to get extra close.”
“I’m not sitting in a child’s tent with you,” Goro says, unconvinced. “And a bird feeder? Really? You think birds are gonna hang out by our twelvth story window?”
“I mean… they’re already in the sky, aren’t they?”
Goro sighs, directing his exasperation towards the mini basketball hoop in Akira’s cart. It sits there like it owns the place.
“We can’t get this stuff, Akira. Our place would be filled with junk in no time.”
Akira has the audacity to look amused. “But we can fill it with your junk?”
Goro scoffs, sputters, absolutely scrambles for coherency. “This stuff isn’t junk!”
“Really? An air purifier and a dehumidifier?”
“We need those!”
“And more pillows?”
“They’re necessary!” Goro throws his arms out in front of him, really emphasizing the importance of his pillows. “Are you saying I did a bad job?”
“No, no, of course not.” Akira’s voice softens into something soothing as he moves closer, a hand rising from his side to stroke Goro’s cheek. “Honey, I know you want our place to feel special, but that’s something that can’t be rushed. Filling it with products won’t give it personality, it’ll just make it look like an Ikea display.”
Goro avoids Akira’s gaze by looking to the ground.
“I... I know this stuff is kind of basic, but... we’d probably already have most of these things if we’d had normal lives before this. Normal living spaces. If I cared enough to fill my apartment with more than a desk and a laptop, this would just be stuff I owned. I was just… catching up, I guess.”
Akira doesn’t cut in, only nodding and listening as he lets Goro talk, having dipped his head enough for their gazes to meet again. It helps Goro admit the hardest part out loud: that Akira actually has a point.
“But I did go a little overboard trying to compensate,” he sighs. He hates when Akira is right. “I didn’t want to adjust to living somewhere new. I wish I could skip to a year from now when our place undoubtedly feels like home. I want that.”
“I want it too,” Akira whispers, somehow even closer than he was before. “But I don’t think it’ll take anywhere close to a year for that to happen. Just give me a month. I’ll make it worth your while.”
He winks, and Goro can’t fight down a smile on the receiving end of that determined gaze. Even without his boyfriend’s reassurance, Goro knows any place with Akira would feel like home. He’d be foolish to think otherwise.
“I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”
“Me too,” Akira beams, not missing a beat. “It was hell not asking you sooner. Can’t believe I’ll get to wake up next to you every morning.”
Goro can’t believe it either. He’s particularly excited about the daily coffee he’ll receive with his live-in boyfriend privileges.
“And you know,” Akira continues, a hand wandering aimlessly to find Goro’s hip, “We still have all night to make some move-in day memories.”
Goro scoffs with no real heat behind it, pushing Akira away. “Is that all you think about?”
“Can you blame me when you’re dressed like that?”
Goro glances down to his wrinkle-free sweater vest and khakis. He decides to ignore Akira’s comment entirely.
Sorting through their carts takes a decent amount of time, with Akira being particularly defensive about the Snuggie he picked out (though the argument was dropped entirely when Goro suggested they keep each other warm instead). A few boxes from Goro’s horde are sent to the discard pile, while most of Akira’s things end up banished back to the As Seen on TV section. Of course he’s allowed to keep the kitchen essentials and the roomba, as well as two water guns, sprinting across the store to grab a second one as per Goro’s request.
And despite their organization, they still need the help of Haru (specifically her car) to transfer the items back to their new apartment. Boxes end up strewn around the living room, bags of this and that thrown on the island counter, neither of them bothering to put anything away as Goro himself gets thrown on the counter, a pair of lips eagerly attacking his own. It’s late in the evening and the pair haven’t eaten since lunch, but that’s the last thing on Goro’s mind as the moon shines through their curtain-less window, hungry only for Akira’s mouth and the soft hums emanating from his throat. Being pushed onto his back has Goro smiling as he wraps his legs around Akira’s waist. He can’t wait to break in this apartment properly.
They’re starting their new lives together, and Goro’s already starting to feel at home.