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Even on the platform of the subway station, the oppressive heat of summer was inescapable. It clung to Akira’s skin in a way that was almost smothering at times, save for a brief moment of respite brought by the slight breeze caused by a train leaving the station on the other side of the platform. This early in the morning the weather brought with it a bit of lightheadedness that Akira hoped he could shake before cramming into a packed train with other commuters.
The sensation poked at the lingering memories of his visit to the bathhouse a few days prior, rekindling thoughts of a certain detective that he’d rather not be reliving at this exact moment. But just like the heat of summer, Akira couldn’t escape his memories of pale skin flushed red from their competition to see who could remain in the hot water the longest. The past few days had been like that; every time Akira found himself with too much free time on his hands, those memories snuck up on him, reminding him of how entangled he was becoming in the very person the leader of the Phantom Thieves should be staying away from as far as possible.
And just like those thoughts, none other than the star of Akira’s daydreams himself snuck up on him as he waited for his train.
A quick “good morning” from Goro Akechi somehow always made Akira feel as though it would be a pleasant morning, no matter what else was going through his mind at the time. He never failed to enjoy the quick moments they got to see each other before going separate ways at the station, even if it sometimes felt like a drive-by interrogation. Akira suspected Goro found them equally enjoyable judging by the increasing frequency of their supposedly coincidental run-ins.
It was a complicated dance, keeping Goro and his clandestine life as a phantom thief separate. The detective was never subtle about digging for clues and hints, clearly suspicious of him despite the congenial manner in which he always conducted his questioning.
Admittedly, it was a bit thrilling. He found himself continually drawn to the detective more and more as they grew to know what parts of each other that they allowed to be seen. The feeling was clearly mutual—Goro himself openly said as much every time they enjoyed a moment together outside of the morning rush. It seemed neither he nor Goro could get enough of one another, both caught up in the push and pull of whatever was brewing between them.
Today the conversation was of the same vein it usually was: an update on Goro’s thoughts on the Phantom Thieves, a light probing into Akira’s thoughts on the matter of their crusade of justice. Akira only ever gave Goro enough information to keep him interested, to give Goro an excuse to seek him out that didn’t require a deeper look into why they were so drawn to each other.
“Did you know my name is listed too? It’s apparently due to my recent disapproval of the group,” Goro mentioned, way too cheerfully for someone discussing their position on a fan poll about getting their heart stolen. “I’ve turned into a bona fide villain.”
If anyone were to find out and question Akira for the sudden shift in his behavior, perhaps he could blame his ridiculous idea on the weather. Heatstroke or something. Clearly his brain had melted into goo and dripped out of his skull, because what came out of his mouth next could not have been crafted by anyone within their right mind.
But more than any of that, the likely culprit was the memory of what the pretty detective in front of him looked like with bare skin flushed and dripping wet that sent Akira over the edge.
“That doesn’t sound like a job for the Phantom Thieves,” Akira paused, watching Goro’s face carefully for his reaction to his next words. “But I might be able to change your heart.”
Goro’s reaction was delightful. His eyes went wide, and he almost sputtered. “P-pardon?”
He recovered quickly though. He was good at that, likely from his work on television, but the mask he slipped on wasn’t that of his cloyingly charming Detective Prince persona. It was the sharp and calculating one that only appeared every so often when he and Goro were alone. Having Goro’s gaze turned on him like that never failed to send shivers racing up Akira’s spine.
“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?” Goro’s voice was deceptively level and devoid of shock. “Did your opinion of the Phantom Thieves change recently? You’ve mentioned before that you wouldn’t consider yourself a fan of them despite supporting their actions.”
Akira shrugged. It hardly mattered whether or not Goro bought his sudden awakening as a Phan-boy, and he wasn’t sure if he could even begin to channel a fraction of that energy Mishima seemed to never run out of. “Maybe. It’s hard to argue against the effectiveness of their methods.”
There was a glint to Goro’s gaze like light gleaming off the edge of a blade he intended to use to cut through the walls Akira had built around his secret identity. “You make it sound as though you have knowledge of their methods.”
He had to be careful with his next words. “No, but I know what I would do instead.”
“Ah. Care to enlighten me then? You’ve piqued my curiosity.”
Akira nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket and immediately bringing up his text conversation with Goro. Quickly, he tapped out the first words that came to his mind, not wanting to put too much thought into it and miss this window of opportunity. This wasn’t the first time he had considered what the Phantom Thieves might write on a calling card addressed to their most vocal detractor, should it ever come to that.
Akira knew his daydreams about such things were mostly frivolous, fraught with his own desire to get rid of the animosity between his detective and the Phantom Thieves. It was selfish. He wanted to have both of his cakes and eat them too.
“Is this information too sensitive to share aloud?”
As Akira typed out the message, he could see Goro watching him carefully in his peripheral vision. Despite the crowd bustling around them, it felt as though they were the only two people standing on the train platform. Once he was as satisfied as he was going to be with such a quickly thrown together calling card, Akira hit the send button, and within seconds he heard the answering vibration of Goro’s phone receiving the message.
Goro tilted his head questioningly, so Akira motioned for him to check his phone. He complied, and Akira tried to bask for a moment in how easy it could be sometimes to convince Goro to go along with his whims, but his heart was also jackhammering in his chest, threatening to pound him into dust depending on Goro’s reaction.
Goro’s cheeks became tinged with a bit of redness as his eyes scanned the message, and it definitely wasn’t from the summer heat or bathhouse competitions this time. Other than that, the detective managed to mostly maintain his composure as he finished the message.
He cleared his throat and began reading it aloud, which Akira wasn’t quite anticipating. To hear the words said in Goro’s soft voice impacted him in a way he might not be wholly prepared for.
“Goro Akechi… You have become desire itself, covetous and tempting. I have decided to steal your heart and make you confess your crimes with your own mouth.
“From, Akira Kurusu.”
There was a pause as Goro considered the words before he put his phone away. “You came up with that rather fast. Is this something that’s been on your mind?”
“You could say that.” The way Goro was watching him, evaluating him, sent a dangerous thrill coursing through his body. Perhaps the treasure was within his grasp now. “You’ve given me a lot to think about lately.”
Goro took a step closer, putting himself within Akira’s reach and finally crossing that invisible boundary between them that neither had dared to even approach yet. “Admittedly, our competition wasn’t the only reason I remained in the bath for so long that night… but that’s hardly the conversation to be having here.”
For a moment Akira thought that was the end of it as Goro moved to continue past him. A shot and a miss. But Goro stopped when they were shoulder to shoulder, and something absolutely electric crackled between them as Goro locked eyes with him.
“Are you coming? There isn’t much time before the train arrives.” Goro was close enough that Akira could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over his ear. “Don’t miss your opportunity for a confession of my crimes.”
Akira probably would have done absolutely anything Goro asked him to do in that moment, all higher brain function completely overridden by the intoxication of Goro’s proximity. As Akira turned to follow him, he stopped when he felt Morgana wiggle out of his school bag and gracefully leap to the floor.
“I hope you know what the hell you’re getting yourself into. I’m outta here,” Morgana muttered hastily before slinking out of the way of the subway crowd.
Goro glanced back at Akira briefly from his moment of hesitation, furrowing his eyebrows a bit quizzically before continuing into the restroom. Akira followed suit before the door could close behind him.
He wasn’t sure what would have happened if there had been other occupants in the restroom, but it was blessedly empty as everyone else seemed to be actually trying to catch their trains on time. Akira barely had enough time to fully take in their surroundings before his senses were full of nothing but Goro Akechi crowding into his space and backing him up against the door.
“Tell me, Akira-kun, is this what you were expecting?” His voice was low, with a dangerous charge to it that warned Akira he was nearing the edge of a precipice from which there was no return. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about since our time together at that bathhouse?”
Goro had haunted his thoughts for weeks, but the bathhouse had only compounded it, making his feelings towards him impossible to ignore any longer. All Akira could manage in response was a dazed nod. There was simultaneously all too much and not nearly enough of Goro, and it made him dizzy as if the room was spinning. Thankfully, he quickly found his footing once again.
Akira leaned in, bringing their faces close enough that Goro was all he could see. They were so close, all that stood between Akira and the precipice was a few centimeters between their lips. Even at this proximity, Akira wasn’t quite able to fully parse the emotions swirling in Goro’s eyes. There was a challenging shine to them, but somewhere below the surface seemed to be something more akin to hesitation.
He wasn’t certain which of them moved first—perhaps they closed the gap together—but it didn’t really matter to Akira because Goro’s lips were pressed against his own.
It was… so much softer than Akira had imagined. Almost as tender as one would expect a first kiss to be. The gentleness of it made Akira’s heart ache, and he wanted so much more of Goro. He wanted more of whatever this part of Goro was that had been unlocked.
With a soft sigh, Akira tilted his head to deepen the kiss, and his hands came to rest on Goro’s waist. The contented hum that followed seemed completely subconscious on Goro’s behalf, and as though he suddenly realized what he had let slip, it cut off in a sharp intake of air as Goro pulled away from their kiss. Akira froze as everything screeched to a sudden halt, and he was hesitant to open his eyes and meet Goro’s gaze, certain he had fucked it all up by going a step too far.
Unfortunately—or more rather, fortunately—for Akira, there were few other places he could look than at Goro’s face, and when he opened his eyes, he was met with a blazing fire staring back at him, poised to consume him whole. Akira barely had a moment to react before he was roughly grabbed by the collar and pulled towards the nearest stall. Whatever had been brewing between the two of them was now absolutely boiling over.
As the door swung shut behind them, Akira managed to reach backwards and flip the lock closed without once looking away from his detective, who of course noticed such a move.
“You’re quite dexterous,” Goro remarked with that calculating tone of his again. “You’re not entirely unlike a thief, are you, Akira-kun?”
The sharpness in his gaze and the lack of blood in Akira’s brain led him to come up with the most embarrassing excuse instead of following through with something actually cool like ‘you have no idea what else I can do with my hands.’
“I, uhh, play a lot of video games.”
Goro let out a sudden bark of laughter, as if Akira’s response completely caught him off guard. He recognized it as the genuine, full-chest laugh he always delighted in pulling from the otherwise perfectly composed Detective Prince. It was a glimpse of the real Goro Akechi, or at least a part of him. The part that Akira desperately wanted more of and to know wholly, not just the fragments he managed to catch here and there when they slipped through his facade.
There was a horrible sound as Goro’s briefcase clattered to the floor, metal against tile, yet somehow it didn’t break the moment. Akira let his schoolbag follow suit, uncaring of the fact that he would probably need to clean it later.
Goro pulled him forward until their chests met, and Akira accepted it as an invitation to continue forward until he caged Goro against the wall of the restroom stall. He welcomed it, sighing against Akira’s mouth as Akira threaded his fingers through the silky strands of his hair. He’d always wondered if Goro’s hair would feel as soft as it looked, and he wasn’t disappointed. However, there wasn’t enough time to let his thoughts linger, so Akira seized the perfect opportunity to swipe his tongue along the seam of Goro’s lips, exploring deeper as Goro opened his mouth further, inviting him in.
It was all a bit messy. He didn’t necessarily have much experience with these situations, and shockingly it seemed Goro perhaps had none at all. Their teeth clacked together at first, but Goro was a quick study and he soon fell into beat with the rhythm Akira was attempting to set. Finally, Goro figured out what to do with his hands that were stiffly clenched at his side, and he grabbed at Akira’s waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He caught Akira’s bottom lip with his teeth, dragging with just enough pressure to steal Akira’s breath away. Forget a quick study, he might be a prodigy.
Neither of them took the lead, instead they fell in unison, plunging together in a mangled mess of each other. It took them little time at all to figure out how to fit together—perfectly, if he might add. Akira was absolutely drowning in the flood of sensations; the lightning that jolted through his chest every time their lips met, and the overwhelming heat that coursed through his veins.
An eternity seemed to pass in the few minutes they got lost in one another, until it was shattered by the sound of a train rumbling into the station, causing Goro to break away abruptly. He immediately relinquished his hold on Akira’s waist, and Akira bit his own lip to hold back a whine at the loss of contact.
Goro’s breaths came hard and shallow, hot against Akira’s mouth, and it was all he could do to resist capturing those lips again. Before Akira could think twice about it, his detective placed a commanding, open palm against his chest and pushed him back. He wondered if Goro was able to feel the erratic pounding of his heart in that brief moment of contact.
Something began to shutter between them as Goro gathered his briefcase, as if he was already putting distance between himself and Akira even as Goro reached around him for the lock on the stall door. Suddenly Akira was gripped by the fear that if left to his own devices, Goro would allow this to simply remain a singular occurrence between them, a lone flash of lightning in the storm that was their mysterious connection. The very thought made Akira’s heart lodge in his throat, and he knew he had to make one more play before Goro locked that window of opportunity right in his face.
It felt so natural, Akira hardly had to think about it. He couldn’t have imagined any other response to Goro being so close even if he had all the time in the world to consider it. Reaching for the stall’s lock brought Goro right into Akira’s personal space, so he turned and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of Goro’s cheek, hoping to convey that this meant more to him than some frantic collision of their hormones or whatever he thought.
The way Goro froze and stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes was all it took to send Akira tumbling down from the peak of his high. How many times in the span of less than five minutes was Akira going to feel as though he had entirely fucked up his tenuous relationship with the detective? He was a second away from stammering out an apology when Goro blinked the surprise from his face and his expression softened into something that almost looked like sadness, but then he ducked away and Akira’s view was obscured by the curtain of hair that fell forward.
“I had a feeling you might be the physically affectionate type,” he said, his tone indiscernible as he flipped the lock.
A bit of relief settled his heart until it returned to its proper home in his chest, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move from his spot in front of the stall door even as it opened. When Goro met the gaze of his human roadblock, he didn’t seem as closed off as he had become the moment he broke off their kiss. Now there was no mistaking the look in his eyes for anything but sadness, maybe with a hint of resignation mixed in. It seemed Goro didn’t want this moment to end as much as Akira previously thought he did.
“We shouldn’t be late for school,” Goro stated, matter of factly, as if he hadn’t just pulled Akira into a public restroom for the sole purpose of making out with him.
There was no sense in pushing his luck; Goro was right. Akira grabbed his bag off the floor and exited the stall first, coming face to face with his own reflection in the dirty mirror above the sink. He was certainly a sight, cheeks red and lips swollen. Hopefully it wasn’t noticeable to anyone unaware of what he had just been up to—with the media’s sweetheart, nonetheless.
Quickly, they righted themselves, smoothing out wrinkles until they looked presentable again. Or at least Goro did. Akira mostly half-assed straightening himself up and instead watched Goro’s reflection as he primly smoothed his hair back into place, destroying any evidence that Akira’s fingers had tried to make themselves a new home there.
What would be next for them, the phantom thief and detective devoted to unmasking his true identity?
“I need to remember to be careful around you.” That practiced smile was Goro’s face, and it was such an odd combination with the flush lingering on his cheeks from their activities. “It’s too easy to be reckless with you.”
Akira shot a smirk in Goro’s direction, but his heart wasn’t quite in it, too busy hammering away at this ribcage like it wanted to break free and give itself to Goro. He had been so confident about his spur of the moment plan, but now he wasn’t certain whose heart was stolen.
There was a pause, as if neither of them wanted to truly leave the moment for fear of not knowing when it would happen again. Goro sighed, sounding much too defeated for someone that was practically moaning moments before. “Not that this isn’t worth my time, but neither of us needs to draw more attention to ourselves. We should go.”
Responsibility really always found a way to suck the air out of a good time, didn’t it? Akira followed Goro towards the exit door. “I don’t think anyone is paying that much attention to you.” Well, excluding himself from that statement.
Goro shot him with a brief, yet harsh glare that he quickly masked over with a bright smile as though he hadn’t let it slip through. “Once again, you’re lucky that naivety is an endearing look on you.”
Walking out of the restroom felt like leaving a safe room in a Palace, and Akira found himself a bit off-kilter. Back on the platform, the train was nearly ready for departure, and the last of the passengers were hustling to board.
Before disappearing into the crowd, Goro turned to give him one last look. There was enough softness to it that Akira felt his heart do another little flip. “Goodbye, Akira.”
Akira lifted his hand to weakly wave back, hoping that goodbye wasn’t as final as it sounded. He wasn’t sure he would be able to return to their normal, distanced interactions now that he held the knowledge of how soft Goro’s lips were and what he sounded like when his breath was stolen away.
Akira was abruptly broken out of his reverie by a loud and recognizable, “Whoa, what the hell?!” from directly behind him. He didn’t even have to look to know it was Ryuji, and he wasn’t surprised by the irritated scowl on his friend’s face once he did turn around. Morgana was with him, too, but he wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not considering the look directed his way. Akira didn’t even know cats had enough muscles in their faces to look that judgmental.
“Was that that asshole detective? He didn’t say anything to you, did he?” Ryuji questioned, getting worked up as he always did at the mere sight of Goro Akechi, but it faded into concern as he took in Akira’s appearance. “You okay, man? Your face is kinda red.”
Akira fiddled with his bangs, hoping to hide the flush on his cheeks if he ducked his head far enough. “Nah, everything’s fine. We just ran into each other.”
Repeatedly.
With our mouths.
He ignored the way Morgana’s eyes narrowed at his dismissiveness. They could discuss his poor decision-making skills later in private when Ryuji’s reaction wouldn’t garner the unwanted attention of the entire subway, and maybe Akira could spin it as some ‘keep your enemies closer’ tactic.
Later during class, Akira’s phone vibrated with a text notification, and he surreptitiously snuck a peak at it under his desk. His heart fluttered against his ribcage at the sight of Goro’s name, and he opened the message probably faster than he had ever opened a text in his life.
‘Perhaps there is more good to the Phantom Thieves than I thought, since they’ve brought you to me.’