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“We're doing a detour to the store first.” Goro said, walking past Akira, not even giving him the chance to say Hi.
He does it anyway. “Hello to you, too,” he says. “Why?”
Goro looks at him as if he was also stuck in this shit reality. “...I need new cigarettes. If we're going into your counselor's palace, I'm going to need something to calm my nerves after.”
“...You smoke?”
Goro sighs. “Is that really so surprising?”
He doesn't shake his head.
“Either way, it's not any of your business. Now, will you move?”
☆
True to his word, Goro removes a cigarette from his new pack and lights it up right in front of Akira. It happens right after they've exited Maruki's dreaded palace.
Akira doesn't really know what to make of it yet. Of the palace, and of him finding out that Goro Akechi, detective prince and media darling, smokes.
Something about it makes Akira feels like he's floating. “I don't know how to feel about this.”
“What? The smoking?”
“Sort of.”
Goro snorts. Akira wants to hear it again and again. “Well, get used to it. The detective prince is dead, so I don't feel the need to pretend anymore.”
(Did he really, though?)
“...That's one way to look at it. I won't stop you.”
“And I wouldn't have let you.”
They left it at that.
☆
Akira started wondering about it, after that. What it'd be like—to smoke. While in reality, he really only wanted to know if it was still possible for him to kiss Goro.
Would he still want it, even if it meant he'd taste Goro's last cigarette on his tongue?
When confronted with it—the smoking, not the kissing—he was promptly shut down. “I'm not going to let you pick up my bad habit.” Goro had said.
That was to be expected. Even if he didn't really show it, Goro still cared, somewhere, in his own way. Akira's friends and especially Sojiro also would've had something to say about that.
Despite it all, he keeps wondering.
The next time they exit Jazz Jin, a visit which Akira had to practically beg Goro for, he lets curiosity get the better of him.
He stays close to Goro during the whole ordeal. If he found it strange, then he didn't say. Akira usually kept his distance, even before he found out about Goro's little secret (not-so-secret, anymore; now that his phantom thieves were back, they all knew.), but this time, he wanted to be present.
Akira found that the smell wasn't so bad if it came from and clung to Goro.
He also realized that he became very fixated on his hands and his mouth moving. It was almost mesmerizing to watch, despite it only lasting for about three minutes.
“I'm going home. You should too,” Goro said quietly after he was done. “The sooner we get the route to the treasure secured, the more we can prepare for the actual battle.”
Akira nodded. “I know. But—you can't deny that tonight was fun, can you?”
“...It was acceptable. I enjoyed chatting with Muhen again.”
“And me?”
“Don't we talk everyday?” Goro replied, not looking him in the eyes. “It's not as special if it happens all the time.”
Akira chuckled. “What, was I only appealing to you when I felt unreachable?”
That earned him a look.
“Isn't this special in its own right? That... I don't know. That you seem to like me enough to stick around. Talk to me everyday.”
“...You're always so awfully sentimental.” Goro sighed, and Akira took it as a win. “Just because I'm comfortable with you doesn't mean I like you.”
Akira felt something cold on his nose. It was a snowflake. Either someone wished for snow, or Maruki let the weather do its own thing. He looked up at the sky before replying, “Isn't that what love should feel like, though? Being comfortable with someone?”
“Who said anything about love? Are all the happy couples in this idealistic reality getting to you?”
He had to admit—maybe they were. Akira really, really, really just wanted to kiss Goro.
He continued, “Either way... I told you, you should go home. So stop playing philosopher and do that.”
“If I do, will you let me smoke a cigarette with you next time?”
“Next time? You—” He started, but cut himself off. “God damn it, fine. Do what you want.”
Akira laughed when Goro began angrily stomping in the direction of his apartment.
☆
Said next time—they were on Goro's balcony—he handed Akira his cigarette.
The one that touched his lips mere seconds before. It was safe to say that Akira's chest felt tight at the thought.
When Akira didn't take it from his hands and just stared at Goro for about ten seconds, he scowled and said, “I'm not letting you take your own. You don't even know if you like it yet.”
“Yet,” Akira replied, finally taking it. “How kind of you. To offer yours, I mean.”
He took a drag. It stung, it smelled awful, but Akira's heart, which was doing cartwheels inside his chest cavity, finally stilled a bit. He still had to let out a cough, though.
It took another one to get the hang of it.
“...And that's how it starts.” Goro took the cigarette back from Akira, their fingers brushing against eachother. He wasn't wearing any gloves.
It did have some kind of effect on him. He was feeling bold, maybe a bit brave, just a tiny bit out of his mind. He asked Goro, as he was handed the cigarette back to him, if he could stay the night.
The hard concrete they were sitting on was cold, but Goro's stare felt warm somehow. He had half of his face buried in his arms, so his “Why?” was quiet and a little muffled.
Akira pressed the cigarette out on the ground and leaned forward. “Leblanc gets cold.”
“I get cold, too.”
“So,” Akira started quietly, “Let me warm you up?”
He blinked and there were lips pressed against his. He pressed back.
☆
Oh, how endearing it was to find out that Goro was really bad at kissing. Akira also liked realizing that he didn't mind, although it did hurt sometimes.
“Oof,” Was the first thing Akira said when Goro's teeth clunked against his, and the next few times it was his nose. He had ditched the glasses as soon as he realized they weren't helping either. “You suck at this.”
He had to tell him that moving his lips a bit more alongside Akira's would make the experience more enjoyable, and he was right. He was also right in telling Goro to take it slow.
“Excuse—I don't exactly have a point of reference, you know.”
Akira giggled. “I know, I know. Its just funny; you had so many girls swooning over you. And yet...”
“And yet, I suck at— at kissing. I get it. Absolutely hilarious.”
Akira laughed again.
Despite his previous failures, Goro continued to try his hardest with each kiss, and maybe—just maybe—that's exactly what his problem was. “You're thinking too much. I can hear it.”
“Shut it.”
“Just let me—” Akira initiated their kiss this time, angling his head just right for their faces to slot together. Goro was rigid, once again, but he seemed to warm up to it once he realized how serious Akira was about this.
Not that he was accusing Goro of not taking it seriously. He wouldn't have started if he didn't.
Akira felt Goro trembling beneath his fingertips. He was gripping his arm to get a better hold of him, to not let him slip away from this, and he could tell how much he was affected by it. Impacting Goro's demeanor this much made him feel alive.
Goro was the one that pulled away first, his breathing heavy and his thoughts empty. His hair tickled Akira's neck when he buried his face into it.
“You're not going to stop, are you?” His voice was muffled.
“Stop what?”
“Infecting me,” He said, a little breathless, “with your brainless sentimentality.”
Akira ran fingers through Goro's hair. He smiled and kissed the top of his head. “You should be used to it by now.”
☆
“So,” Ann approached him about it once, “did the two of you kiss yet?”
Akira almost spat out his coffee.
“Sorry. Uhm—” She continued. “Too soon? Well, you have known eachother for a while...”
He looked at her like she had just killed his cat. “What are you talking about.”
“You and Akechi, duh! Oh, wait, would he allow me to call him Goro now? No, no, probably not.” She sighed.
Ann knew. She knew. She knew?!
“Why are you so... fine with it?”
She tapped her chin once, twice, pretended to think before she leaned across the table. “I don't hate Akechi, and it's so obvious that you like him, so... did you?”
We made out just two days ago, actually. “Uhm. Y-ye—yes.”
Ann returned to her original position and smiled, the content showing on her face. “That's what I thought. Congrats. I should tell him that, too.”
“You really shouldn't.”
“I really shouldn't,” She laughed out loud. “I will, anyway.”
☆
January felt endless. The two of them were holding hands out in the snow, having just enjoyed another evening at Jazz Jin. To his surprise, Goro didn't smoke after.
Instead, he looked a little bit (very, a lot, definitely) flustered. “What's up with you?”
“What?” He looked at Akira, puzzled. “Does this not affect you?” He looked down at their hands.
He smiled back at him. “It does. I just didn't think it would do so much to you.”
Goro sighed and squeezed his hand, which made Akira's heart skip a beat. Goro's gaze was purposely focused on the ground rather than him. “Your hands are very warm.”
“You're wearing gloves.”
“I can still—I can still feel them. And it's driving me insane.” Oh. Oh. “My body feels like its—on fire. Fuck.”
“I like you, too.”
“Shut the fuck up,” He hissed out, and Akira's smile got wider. “We're going back to my place.”
He couldn't argue with that.
☆
“I'd offer you a cigarette, but I'm all out.”
Akira looked at him, numb, too tired to express any other emotion. “...Don't worry about it.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” He quickly replied. “Why would I want that?”
Goro didn't respond for a few seconds. Then, he finally removed his scarf and his coat, neatly folding them on his sofa, before sitting down on the edge of his bed, looking at him with expectations that he couldn't make out.
“What?” Akira said again.
“Nothing,” He finally said. “I just thought it would make this easier. That's all.”
“Fuck you. Seriously—what, why—in what world—”
Goro continued talking over him. “You know exactly why. We've talked about this. You're so brainlessly sentimental, and it's ruining you.” He looked at Akira with disgust. “Look at you.”
Akira stared at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, trying his hardest not to cry. He tried so hard.
He heard Goro sigh. “...I'm staying. But, tomorrow, I expect you to let go.”
(That was it.)
Akira wasn't a crier. He wasn't even sure if any of his friends, his confidants, had ever seen him spill anything. It was only fitting that Goro was the first.
Goro didn't seem to mind, although Akira wouldn't say that he felt very comforted either. Maybe he really should've let him go. Maybe it would've made this easier. But he's here now.
Goro's here.
Later that night, as his face was buried in Goro's neck and he tried memorising his smell and the warmth of his skin and the sounds of his soft breaths, Akira wished that January had kept going just a little longer.
His wish was, for once, not granted.