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“Or are you really so pathetic you’d fold over some trivial bullshit threat over my life?”
Akira hates this.
He hates this, so, so, much.
Most of all, he hates himself.
He took everything from his friends, yet now he’s hesitating because someone is about to be taken from him.
“Kurusu.”
He’s so, so, tempted to take the deal.
They would all be happy.
Morgana would be human.
Ryuji would be in the track team.
Ann and Shiho would be happy together.
Yusuke would have a mentor. A good one.
Makoto’s father would be alive.
Futaba’s mother would be alive.
Haru’s father would be alive.
“Kurusu.”
Goro would be alive.
“Kurusu.”
He wants to take the offer.
Goro would hate him.
It would be nothing short of a betrayal of all his friends’ trust in him.
He would be betraying Sumire, who fought, who finally accepted herself for who she actually is.
“I…”
“You can’t possibly be considering that lunatic’s offer!”
Scratch that, Goro hates him now.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry-”
“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.”
“Goro, you can’t- This isn’t a trivial matter-”
“Kurusu I swear to fucking God. Tell me, clearly, what do you intend to do?”
He knows what he wants to do.
He also knows what he’ll actually do.
It’s nothing new, really.
He’s always been a people pleaser, putting others' wishes before his own.
Maruki did say something about it probably being his parents’ fault.
“We’re fighting Maruki.”
Akira wakes up with a start, swallowing down a gasp.
“ Ow! Akira what the hell?!”
Right.
Morgana.
He’s in his bedroom, not LeBlanc.
“Ah, sorry Morgana.”
The cat sighs in an absolutely not-cat way, and jumps into Akira’s lap.
“You okay?”
He could lie.
He should lie, because it’s so stupid to still be upset over this, even two years later.
But Morgana knows him way better than that, he would see right through the lie as soon as it leaves his mouth.
Morgana seems to understand without a need for a verbal response from Akira, because he looks at him softly, “That’s okay too, you know?”
Akira looks away, studying the pattern of the red and black blanket that covered the lower half of his body.
Is it?
Fortunately, Morgana doesn’t push, instead jumping down, “How about we go down and get breakfast?”
Nodding silently, Akira gets up, immediately missing the warmth his blanket brought.
Morgana turns to look at him, his mouth open like he was about to say something, but he stops and frowns, “Akira, are you…you’re crying.”
Shakily, he raises a hand to touch his cheek, and sure enough he finds it wet with tears he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.
“Ah…” he says, quite dumbly. “Sorry I- I didn’t even…realize…”
Morgana looks at him, his eyes impossibly full of concern.
“Do you want to stay here before we go down? Futaba should be at school, but I don’t know if Boss is here or at the cafè.”
The idea of seeing Sojiro while he can’t even keep his emotions in check scares him, so he nods and flops back on the bed.
Trying to distract himself, he looks around his bedroom.
Despite living in the Sakura house for about a year and a half now, he still finds himself wondering how the hell he found himself here.
Living with his true family, his sister ’s bedroom in front of his own and their dad’ s down the hall.
It’s nothing like the Kurusu house back in Inaba, lacking the sense of ‘ home ’ that the Sakuras give him.
His trinkets from his very first year in Tokyo are all here, from the Risette poster -Ann had flipped when he’d told her he knew the idol because he spent almost a year buying tofu from her- to the Jack Frost Doll that sat perched on his shelf -which had cost him around two thousand yen in attempts to get.
His eyes land on the chess set, and his breath hitches.
He hasn’t played chess in two years.
The set that Sojiro had given him without asking questions when he’d asked back when he was collecting his stuff to move from LeBlanc’s attic to the Sakuras’ guest room, despite it technically being the cafè’s.
Morgana jumps on his lap again, this time curling up, and Akira’s hand automatically finds his black fur, gently running his hand through it.
“I miss him.”, he finds himself saying, because he knows Morgana won’t judge.
He could never bring it up with the other Thieves, because of the touchy nature of the topic, what with him being afraid of Futaba and Haru’s reaction to him mourning someone that wronged them so much.
But Morgana was there, Morgana heard him cry in the dead of night after Shido’s palace, and had simply curled up in Akira’s lap.
Morgana had been there, when Maruki had basically dangled Goro’s life in front of him in a last effort to get him to accept his reality.
Morgana didn’t judge him back then, doesn’t judge him now and Akira’s sure he won’t ever judge him for missing him.
So, he lets himself cry, knowing that Morgana is there for him.
It takes him a while, but he collects himself enough to actually manage to go downstairs, but as soon as he steps in the kitchen he realizes he doesn’t want to cook, not even brew himself coffee, so Morgana basically forces him to go to LeBlanc to at least eat something there.
The cafè is -predictably- empty, and Sojiro smiles softly at him as soon as he sees him.
“Finally. I swear, you’d probably sleep through the entire day. I was about to come and check up on you.”
Akira should respond with a teasing remark, or anything really, but he simply can’t bring himself to do so.
Sojiro seems to notice, and Akira doesn’t miss the way he immediately looks at the calendar before smiling softly.
“You eat anything yet?”
It’s Morgana that responds, and Akira still finds himself smiling, because despite not hearing him, Sojiro still understands him.
“Nope!”
Sojiro huffs, “I figured as much. Well, sit down, I’ll get you a plate of curry and a cup of coffee.”
Akira nods, and sits down at the counter, pointedly not looking at his seat.
He starts playing with his food, not really feeling like eating, but he knows Morgana and Sojiro would not let him get up until he eats something , so he forces the curry down, trying to ignore the worried look Sojiro’s giving him.
“What are you doing today?”
It’s not an unusual question.
It’s basically Sojiro’s way of asking whether Akira feels like working at the cafè, or if he’s working any of his other jobs.
He couldn’t bring himself to quit working at Rafflesia or Crossroads, so he still does the occasional shift, although he and Lala-chan have come to a more regular schedule.
Still, he knows that today he has no real commitment, because he’d predicted he’d feel like this , outright miserable , but not doing anything at all also feels wrong, because he could be using his time to do something productive, so-
“I’ll take that as a ‘I don’t have anything planned’ , so how about you help out? It’s almost ‘rush hour’.”
And Sojiro actually gestures when saying the title Futaba had come up with for the time most of Sojiro’s regulars come in.
They’re both aware that Sojiro does not need help, but Akira takes it for the distraction it is and nods.
The door swings open, and Akira is only mildly surprised to see it’s Ann.
“Hey Akira! Hi Boss!”
Sojiro smiles, “Good afternoon, Ann-chan.”
She settles on the counter, and Sojiro starts making her a cup.
By now, Sojiro’s long learned what order each of Thieves like, and wordlessly gets it for them whenever they drop by.
She smiles at him, bright and soft like she always is, “You free?”
Sojiro answers for him, “Yeah, he’s just killing time here and keeping this old man company.”
Ann beams at that, “Well then, get ready ‘cause we’re leaving! I’m taking you out on a date. We haven’t gone out in a while, Akira.”
Akira honestly had half a mind to protest, but…
Well, Ann isn’t wrong.
They really haven’t hung out in forever.
And while he knows it’s not a coincidence that Ann is here today of all days, he really doesn’t mind.
So, he simply nods, and Ann’s smile is so bright he allows himself a small smile.
She takes him to a small cafè, a new one, because whenever they go out they try out a new place and Akira honestly wonders how the hell she manages to find somewhere newevery time.
Ann’s telling him about something , and he thinks it has to do with Shiho, but he’s not sure, and Ann -bless her, she’s really amazing-, seems to notice, but doesn’t look mad.
Or disappointed.
Or whatever it is his parents always told him would happen if he isn’t a good and reliable person that always puts people before himself.
“‘Kira? You good?”
Lying to Ann, much like lying to Morgana, is pretty much useless.
She is also quite aware of his crush on Goro, what with him calling her two years ago in the middle of night while Morgana was staying with Futaba because he came to the realization that oh shit, I like him .
So, he shakes his head, and Ann smiles at him, a sad smile that makes him want to reach out and do something about it, she’s upset it’s your fault you need to fix this stop being selfish-
Maybe Sumire and Futaba are right and he really does need therapy.
“Okay.”
She doesn’t tell him to get over it.
She doesn’t tell him to suck it up, to man up, to move on, to stop being a bother , and instead smiles at him patiently, softly, and Akira, not for the first time, wonders how he ended up with such a wonderful best friend.
Ann just looks at him, and doesn’t pressure him to spill his guts, to talk, instead lets him decide what and when he wants to speak.
“I know I’m supposed to be over it”, he eventually says after a while of staring into the coffee cup he ordered, “I know that, but I just…”
He had decided, back then, that he'd live on. Goro wouldn’t have wanted his "rival" to succumb to "brainless sentimentality", so he'd decided that despite how much it hurt, he'd never forget the time they spent together. Even if being apart brought him pain, he couldn't bring himself to let go of Goro Akechi.
Still, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
”Akira!”
The moment he closes the front door behind him, Futaba throws herself at him and the only reason they don’t fall over is that he’s had two years of practice now.
“Hey. How was school?”
“Boooooring! BUT! Sumi’s come back today! Her tournament took like. Foreeeeever.”
“Ah, that would explain why you’re so happy.”
Futaba punches him lightly, and Akira chuckles at her antics.
“I’m gonna make some instant ramen. Want some?”
It’s her way of caring, because Akira knows Futaba rarely shares her noodles.
“Just don’t tell Sojiro”, he says with a smile.
She flashes him a grin, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Which brings him to now, around twenty minutes later, Futaba hunched over the small coffee table as she does her homework.
“Akira. Please. I need help! You’re supposed to be my cheat code, come on!”
Futaba is, in all honesty, a genius.
Yet she struggles so much when it comes to Japanese and History.
He supposes it makes sense, as they’re not subjects she’s interested in.
Akira doesn’t look up from his phone, “I don’t remember you helping me back when I was in high school.”
Futaba sends him a dirty look, “You’re my senior. You were also at the top of your year, Akira. You should be the one helping me . ”
“I don’t think there’s a rule for that.” He says, and goes back to looking through his gallery.
It’s something he often does when bored.
He also really likes to look back to some of the fondest moments from what is arguably the best worst year of his life.
He clicks on the private folder he called ‘Be gay, do crime’ , and is immediately greeted by the picture they all took back during that summer trip, before Akira had to go back to Inaba again, but it was the last time, so it’s fine, he was just waiting for Sojiro to finish with the papers-
What he forgot was also in that folder is that one picture of him and Goro in Jazz Jin, during that damned month, and Goro’s little amused grin, barely hidden behind a gloved hand makes his heart drop and his breath hitch and his blood freeze-
Maybe going through that folder isn’t the best idea.
With a sigh, he turns off the phone and goes next to Futaba who immediately perks up.
“Ah! Akira has appeared in the plotline! This quest line is suddenly much more interesting and easier!”
(He knows she noticed the way he froze up. He's grateful she doesn’t comment on it.)
“Sorry for calling so late, Senpai.”
“Sumi, I told you, you don’t have to call me Senpai.”
“I like to do so.”
“I- You know what, whatever. Congratulations again on getting first place, Sumire.”
“Thank you! I feel like with your and Futaba’s support and cheering I can do anything!”
“Glad to know I’m helping, even if it’s honestly all you.”
“You are. Helping that is. Anyway, I-...I called because I wanted to check up on you.”
“I’m fine tho?”
“Senpai, I know. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t wanna, but…I just wanted you to know I’m here, if you wanna talk.”
“I…I’m fine. I’m supposed to be fine. It’s been two years, I really should be fine.”
“Would you say it’s wrong of me that I feel upset when the day Kasumi died comes?”
“No! Of course not, it’s-...”
“There you have it.”
“...”
“You don’t have to tell me anything Senpai. I just…I miss him too. I can’t imagine just how much you miss him.”
“...a lot. I miss him a lot, Sumi. But I promised myself I wouldn’t let his…death keep me down. He…he wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“No, he wouldn’t have. He really cared about you, Senpai, in his own way.”
“I know that. That’s why it hurts. Losing him, that is.”
“That’s…I wish I could help, in some way.”
“This is helping, don’t worry.”
“Okay…that’s good to know…”
“...I…sometimes, I think back to that day, two years ago.”
“...”
“I…I wanted to take the deal, back then. I think I would have, had Goro not shown up.”
“...Sepai-”
“Isn’t that horrible? I readily took a perfect reality from all of you, but when my wish came into question, I hesitated. I really am a horrible person.”
“That’s not true Senpai! Would you say I’m a horrible person for fighting you?”
“Sumire, you were hurting. You-”
“And you weren’t? You loved him, Senpai. And you thought he died and he came back, and you were put on the spot and…you trusted Maruki. He gave you everything you wanted, of course you considered.”
“Still, that doesn’t…”
“Can you just trust me on this? And if it makes you feel better, you didn’t take the deal. So you don’t need to blame yourself for that. And I’m sure the Thieves would agree with me.”
“I…I suppose I can.”
Sojiro asking him to watch the shop while he runs an errand (or just goes out to buy cigarettes) is nothing new.
But ever since Akira moved in with them at the Sakura house, the man had never called him back in the evening, and would instead close up shop early.
So Akira is mildly surprised when Sojiro calls him and asks him to go back to LeBlanc, but it’s a much needed distratìction, so he agrees easily.
Which brings him here, idly watching an episode of Neo Featherman Again in an empty cafè.
When the bell tingles, Akira expects it to be Sojiro, maybe having forgotten his wallet, but when he turns around to face the door he feels all breath leave his body.
Because standing in front of him is Goro Akechi .
The silence is soon broken by the man himself, “My, my Kurusu. You should see the look on your face.”
Akira doesn’t know when he moved, but now he’s no longer behind the counter but in front of a dead man.
“...Goro?”
He’s dreaming.
He must have fallen asleep, is probably drooling on the counter and Futaba will probably pull up the video from the camera and make fun of him for weeks,, and his mind decided to punish him by showing him something that could never be.
“As observant as ever, Kurusu. Good to know that two years were not enough to make you forget me.”
Goro hates being touched.
But this is a dream, and Akira has always been selfish.
So he reaches out his hand and lets it rest on Goro’s chest.
Right above his heart.
Right above his beating heart.
“I hate you.”
It’s a dream, after all.
“I hate you so much.”
He wonders if his words are directed more to the dead man in front of him or to his heart and mind for being so cruel to him.
“Oh?”
Akira doesn’t look at the ghost wearing his rival’s face, and instead curls up his hand into a fist, still feeling Goro’s heart beat.
Thump-thump.
Making the sound it never will again.
“I hate you for leaving. I hate you for making me choose. I hate you for making me selfish. I hate you for dying. I hate you for leaving me behind after making me love you.”
He feels the breath in the chest under his hand hitch, and Akira realizes this is the very first time he’s ever said it outloud.
They had known.
They had both known.
That what they had going on was no longer just a rivalry.
But neither of them had ever said anything.
Not in October, when they had started to openly flirt with one another.
Not in November, when Akechi had challenged him by throwing him a glove.
Not in December, a metal door separating them.
Not in January, when they had been given more time.
And not in February, two years ago in this very place.
Akira wonders if it would have changed anything at all.
Goro laughs, and Akira feels it before he hears it.
“I hate you too, you know?”
Akira knows that.
How could he not?
“For making me care.”
Goro puts a hand on the small of Akira’s back.
It feels warm.
Far warmer than a dreamed up person has any right to be.
“For making me love you, too.”
Akira stills.
This…this is new.
Never in his dreams had Goro said it back.
Goro chuckles, and Akira wishes he could hear that sound for the rest of his life.
Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut, “I hate you, because I can’t have you. Not anymore.”
“You still think this is a dream, don’t you?”
“You’re dead. Of course it’s a dream. You wouldn’t be standing here if I were awake.”
Akira had made peace with that.
That he’d only be able to talk to Goro in his dreams.
“Only you would grieve your killer, Kurusu.”
Akira huffs out a laugh, and realizes that he’s crying.
“Not my killer. We fooled you, remember?”
Goro’s hand on his back shifts, “Yes, yes, it was quite the ingenious scheme, although incredibly stupid. I still can’t believe you risked your life like that.”
They fall silent for a few seconds, until Akira speaks up again, “I don’t want to wake up.”
Goro simply hums in response.
“I miss you, so, so much.”
“Good thing I’m back then.”
Akira wants to believe it.
He really does.
“That would be too good to be true.”
Goro scoffs, “Well, what am I supposed to do to make you believe me?”
Akira honestly has no idea.
“Where were you, all of this time?”
Goro shifts his weight from one foot to another.
“I woke up in a hospital after we fought Maruki. I was thrown out of the Palace when my dear father decided to collapse it in an attempt to kill you all. I stayed there until I recovered enough to leave. I went to Kamakura.”
Akira…never could have come up with that.
For Goro to go live in the countryside, that is.
“...why…Why Kamakura?”
“That’s where I was born.”
Or…for Goro to come from the countryside, either.
“My mother and I lived there until we moved here to Tokyo. I decided to go back there. And…get some help.”
Goro falls silent, and Akira is stunned.
He had asked this same question in many other dreams, and the answer had always been some big city, like Kyoto or maybe Osaka. One time, it had even been Sapporo.
“I…Ugh, this is so stupid.”
Goro moves away, and Akira immediately chases after him.
“I thought you said this is a dream.”
“I…I don’t think…”
Goro laughs, “Don’t tell me you had imagined this exact conversation and had received different answers?”
Akira supposes that Goro is not a detective for nothing.
“...yes.”
The smirk on Goro’s face is so pretty it makes Akira want to kiss it off of his face.
“Let me guess, never imagined the Detective Prince to be some country boy, hmm?”
Akira pouts, “I’m a country boy too, you know.”
Goro scoffs, “Please, as if you ever considered that backwater town of yours as home. You wouldn’t be here if that were the case.”
“You’re real.”
“Yes.”
In his dreams, Goro had always been self aware.
Maybe because of how he’d been aware reality was fake, back in January.
Yet now, here he is, claiming to be real.
“You’re really here.”
“For fuck’s sake Kurusu, yes. I’m really here, and I’m really starting to regret asking Boss to call you here.”
“Wait, wait, you asked Sojiro to call me here?”
Well, that would explain why Sojiro suddenly called him over.
“Yes, I came to see you but apparently you’ve moved in with them. I suppose you couldn’t live the rest of your days in a dusty attic.”
Goro’s here.
Goro is really here.
He’s alive.
And he’s come to see him.
“You’re here for me.”
Goro rolls his eyes, “Are you braindead? I thought I had made that part quite clear, Akira.”
God, how he had missed hearing his name in Goro’s voice.
Akira doesn’t know exactly what compels him to do so, but he…
Well, he punches Goro.
“OW! What the FUCK Akira?!”
And then pulls him in to kiss him.
And when Goro doesn’t pull away, and instead kisses him back, Akira’s pretty sure his heart dies.
Because finally, finally, Goro’s back.
They pull away, and the pain that the time they spent apart brought him feels so far away that Akira can’t help but smile.
Goro rests his forehead on Akira’s, smirking, “Honey, I’m home.”
Akira feels like crying.
“You’re back awfully late.”