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One rainy day in October.
The sound of raindrops hit the window of his bedroom just right to make what one would consider a pleasant sound, one that might lull a baby to sleep.
Goro has heard of these videos on Metube that consist only of the sound of rain to relax and fall asleep to. Specifically, he found out about them when looking through articles on what to do when one is suffering from insomnia.
The articles didn’t help.
All advice is pointless.
Though frowned upon in Japan, one of the most reliable suggestions is how foreigners deal with it by taking sleeping pills, and he likes the sound of that, a sure method that will grant him at least a proper five hours of sleep before his busy schedule demands his attention…and yet he doesn’t do it.
Somehow it feels like he is losing at some sort of game, by relying on chemicals to get the job done of something his body should be able to do on its own, though in part there’s also the worry of getting the prescription, doctors gossip, if not that, then the paparazzi, or the pharmacist who hands him the bottle, and relying on Shido and his myriad connections of scientists feels even worse, he will never let Shido get that sort of upper hand, in front of that man, he isn’t allowed to show a single flaw.
There’s also the matter that apparently sleeping pills make people dream more.
Goro has enough nightmares as is, and he isn’t particularly enthused by the idea of inviting more into the few moments of darkness and solitude in his life. Two to three nightmares a week sounds much better than seven.
He rolls to the other side of the bed.
This is exactly why he can’t sleep, his brain doesn’t shut off, no matter how hard he tries.
Closing his eyes, he tries a different method, the one of imagining himself on a boat, gently going down the river, the raindrops outside hitting the lake rather than his window…there’s nothing to worry about here, in the middle of this imaginary lake–
But then the boat rocks and it’s tipping over and he is jolting up in bed, clutching at his chest, eyes wide open as he gasps for air, making sure he isn’t suddenly drowning in his own fantasy.
Fuck.
Whatever.
Sleep is overrated anyway.
Goro climbs out of bed and moves to his living room, yet another place of his apartment devoid of any decoration or joy.
If he can’t sleep he might as well do something productive, so he moves towards his bookshelf and peruses his options.
There are files on Psience that Shido told him to look into, scientists from a different part of Japan that are getting a bit too close to the truth, and since Goro knows the other world better than anyone, he is supposed to figure out how much of a threat their findings are.
His index finger slides across the edge of the case file– and then he stops with a hiss, he gives himself a papercut, like an idiot. Sleep deprivation must be getting to him more than he thought.
He brings his index finger to his mouth to stop the bleeding, and the metal taste immediately spreads on his tongue.
Memories of the last ruler he killed flash across his mind, begging for his life to the black mask, before Goro pulled the trigger, it didn’t taste like metal when the dissipating corpse fell on the ground– no, it tasted like ash.
Goro has seen the way his victims collapse in the real world, black goo spilling from their lips, sometimes their eyes, before they collapse.
He remembers vividly the first time it happened because he was face to face with said victim in the real world and it happened to be someone he had grown to trust and care for… the sight of Wakaba collapsing will truly never leave his mind.
The reports mentioned later the goo is coagulated blood, turned dark for reasons unknown, and a part of Goro has wondered if said black blood still has this taste of metal, or if perhaps is more ashy, like the shadows are.
Another pointless morbid thing to wonder about when he is unable to sleep.
He removes the finger from his lips and looks away from the files, he isn’t in the mood to keep thinking about Shido and the metaverse, so that’s a ‘no’ on looking over those files.
Glancing up, he goes through his other options, intellectual books that would expand his knowledge and vocabulary, make him look presentable for the press, thought-provoking and complicated themes…that he also has no brain to process and appreciate at three in the morning.
Great.
Maybe he should put on some Featherman episodes on the TV, lay on the couch, and hope that sleep takes him. It always makes him feel a bit pathetic to rely on the same method that worked as a child, but it’s his own private home, where no one can bother him, or judge him, except maybe the possible wiretaps that Shido planted.
But then, just as he steps away from the shelf, he spots something, at the very top, an abandoned, dusty, and old children’s book.
Goro reaches out to grab and analyze it and realizes he knows it, it’s not really much of a book, more like a handmade zine, a story he wrote and illustrated himself while waiting for his mom to come back home when he was only seven years old…he had almost forgotten that he had kept it, which is a terrible idea, it has his real name right on the cover, something that Shido could use to find his true identity in the matter of seconds of searching his apartment.
Stupid attachment, what was he thinking?
He walks towards a corner of the room, where a desk with numerous newspaper clippings and files makes the wood surface nearly impossible to spot. What a mess, he is usually better than this.
Either way, he places the zine on the desk above the papers, grabs a black marker, and hovers the tip over the poor attempt at spelling his own name…the very last record of it, as far as Goro is aware.
He spent years cleaning all information of his past, all sites wiped clean, every document burned, and now he is face to face with the last one, in handwriting that is barely understandable because Goro didn’t have access to proper education at the time. His mother was far too busy to teach him.
Would there really be any harm in keeping it as is?
Yes.
It’s a loose strand, and Goro strives for perfection, the tip of the marker meets the paper, and the name disappears… a distant thought reminds him that he doesn’t even remember how to pronounce it right anymore.
Goro slumps on the desk chair, glancing towards the lighter in the corner, the one he uses to get rid of certain documents as soon as he is finished reading them, no traces are ever left behind but the ash on the bin. He should do the same for the storybook, it would be a much more sure solution than a flimsy marker. Hold the paper to the light and you might still be able to read the letters, or one can transfer the bumps on the paper onto another with a pencil and figure it out.
The truth is simple; the cheap marker isn’t enough to erase his past.
But the more Goro stares at the simple storybook the less he wishes to destroy it.
There’s a precious memory attached to it, one of the many that fuel his desire for revenge, one where he sits in his mother’s lap on a dusty floor, as he shows her the little story he wove with the colored pencils she bought for him.
With a sigh, Goro gets up from the desk chair and makes his way toward the comfortable armchair near the bookshelf.
The sound of heavy rain still muffles his every step, if there are truly wiretaps in his home, then he wonders; if he were to shed a tear, would Shido still be able to hear the sobs?
…Doesn’t matter.
Goro hasn’t cried in a long time, and it’s not a brief moment of nostalgia that will ruin such a streak.
He turns on the floor lamp and lets his body sink into the chair, raising his legs high up to his chest, while still holding the crafted tale in his hands.
If he won’t destroy it he might as well read it.
He opens it to the first page.
It’s a foolish story from the get-go, of a small hero of justice with a design far too similar to those of cartoons he used to watch. Were he to publish such drivel he would surely be in trouble with the copyright infringement…not that he ever would.
The small hero smiles and holds up a sword high up, it glows a pretty blue, just like the one he uses in the metaverse in his other guise, and the hero declares to the world that he will destroy all the bad creatures, aliens that have come to ruin their rainbows and flowerfields with their claws and lies.
Goro winces at a small foolish memory of thinking that the men that his mom brought home were aliens, dressed in all black, with sunglasses that covered their eyes to not be recognizable…he used to think that there was simply no way that those men could be humans like the rest of them, they were far too vile for it, especially with the bruises on his mother skin–
He feels sick.
Staring at the pages, memories he doesn’t want to recall are resurfacing and threatening to make his poor excuse of a dinner come back up, so he goes to close the storybook and shoves it back somewhere out of sight… when a petal falls off.
It’s not a real petal of course, it wouldn't have lasted the many trips from foster family to foster family if so, it’s a pink paper petal, with a note on it, in handwriting that isn’t his own.
Leaning down, he picks it up from the floorboards and stops when he finally reads what’s etched on it.
Thank you for protecting me, my little hero. I promise to protect you too.
As Goro stares at the words, a thousand emotions swirl through him in a fraction of a second; anguish, guilt, nausea, longing–and then all of them wash away, leaving only a slight tremor in his hand, as he struggles to keep holding onto the paper, as an indication he felt anything at all.
Everything goes by so fast after that moment.
First, Goro doesn’t finish the story, but he doesn’t tear it apart either. Second, he finds a cardboard box, not too big, not too small, and puts it on the couch. Third, he grabs everything pertaining to his past, an old photo of his mom he keeps under the pillow, a plushie he liked, a very small featherman trading card, the cassettes he started collecting of a cartoon he had liked that he has yet to see. Fourth, he shoves everything inside the box. Fifth, he goes to the empty safe in his home, one underneath a broken floorboard usually hidden by carpet, and puts the cardboard box inside. Sixth, he changes the password of the safe. Seventh, he opens his text messages and scrolls through countless messages from unknown numbers that belong to Shido until Goro finds him. Eighth and final step, he schedules a message for the day before election day.
There are still two months until then, and Goro is confident in his plan of revenge, he will sacrifice everything to see it through, including killing him, if needed, so there’s a good chance that he will never read the scheduled message, which is exactly why Goro dares to write it and press send.
If all goes according to plan, Goro will have the time to come back home, gather all this, and make himself scarce before anyone can blink twice.
But if he wins, then he will surely come after reading this message, and Goro will probably already be dead by then; if not by the thieves' hands, changing him into a person he is not by stepping into his palace, then Shido will see to it, with a well-placed bullet on his heart from a hired gun.
That’s exactly why he does this.
Someone should get to remember her, someone should get to know the boy that she raised before Goro became the monster he is today.
While it’s cruel to give someone else this task, especially to someone who cares so much, who seems to even consider Goro a friend, Goro doesn’t quite care, he hasn’t been merciful in a very long time.
And there’s a sick sense of satisfaction, knowing that he might end up as the ghost that haunts this person’s every waking moment. Goro will become a person that even he couldn’t save. Never forgotten.
Truly, this ugly feeling more than proves that he hasn’t been the small hero of justice in a very long time.
And Goro is more than fine with that.
After a teary dusk in December.
It’s the night before the election results and Ren is miserable.
Even the thieves are anxious. In less than twenty-four hours the results will be out, and they will have to face the consequences of the change of heart altering the political landscape in massive ways… If it worked, that is.
But what’s making Ren crestfallen is not the upcoming big day, it’s something a lot more selfish than that, it’s the fact he just spent the day chasing a ghost that doesn’t wish to be found. Even when this presence is still everywhere Ren looks.
It started with a silly crossword puzzle left unfinished, it ended with a toy gun sitting in a beautiful display, craved by many children passing by, who thankfully ignored the strange teenager crying in front of a toy store.
His eyes are still puffy, and Ren isn’t in the mood to tell Futaba that Morgana can come back home. Ren wants time to grieve on his own, for just a bit, and it’s only been two weeks since the incident, even if everyone has decided to move on, he won’t–he can’t.
So Ren goes upstairs, and without changing out of his day clothes, he sits on the couch, knees to his chest, face hidden between them, glasses discarded to the side, hands in his hair, making himself small, as small as he possibly can. It’s a rare occasion when he gets to indulge in letting emotions catch up to him. There’s always someone around; needing something from him, chatting with him, watching him.
He hiccups once, and a single tear escapes his eye.
Ren misses him.
His regrets of how everything turned out are choking him, drowning him in the seawater of a bitter night he wants to get a chance to redo.
It gets worse with each passing day.
The mission to change Shido’s heart had been the only thing keeping him focused on something other than grief, on these delusions that if he had just been a little faster, and a bit stronger, he might have managed to save him.
But then this rare opportunity to be weak gets interrupted by a ringing noise.
Good thing he hasn’t spilled more than a tear, he thinks as he goes to pick up the phone, at least he knows he can still keep his voice sounding as unaffected and neutral as possible to whoever needs him right now. Which he greatly welcomes, a distraction might be what he needs.
Putting the phone to his ear, he hears nothing. Ren stares at the phone in confusion. It’s not a call, it’s a message.
A small blessing, now he doesn’t have to pretend–
It takes everything to not drop his phone when he sees the sender's name.
“H-how?” he stutters aloud.
This can’t be.
His heart swells up with hope for a moment as he clicks to read it–
If I’m still alive, delete this message.
The first words are enough to finally drop the phone, a choked sob caught in the back of his throat.
It can’t be.
He can’t be dead, even if Ren has been processing this as the truth for two weeks now, he still refuses to believe it, they have a promise; a rematch, with no holding back, with no lies between them as they hold their weapons high, grinning with blood streaming down from their arms and mouths after some well-placed cuts and punches.
So, why is he getting this message now of all times?
Ren stares at the bright phone on the dark floor, waiting for him to keep reading, and slowly he slips off the couch until his ass hits the floor, where he stays in fetal position as he reaches for the phone again. Still hoping that this is some sort of prank.
But I guess if I’m still alive, I have to assume you are not, and this message will reach no one.
It clicks now, that the message was written a while ago, most likely before the interrogation room, scheduled to be delivered on this specific day.
So, if you are still alive, and I am not. Then go here [Kichijōji,328-51], it's the address to my apartment, but be careful of wiretaps, and any onlookers. I’m sure you know why by now.
Look below the crimson dust. Remember the day we met. Keep them safe.
Oh, and congratulations on outsmarting me, I suppose. I hope you are proud of that. Perhaps a small part of me might even be glad you aren’t dead, I did enjoy our debates a great deal, unfortunate that you never beat me at chess.
It’s such a shame that Shido killed me for failing to bring you down…or maybe he didn’t and this is a message to the dead.
Either way, have a good life or death, Kurusu-kun.
I will not miss you but I hope you will miss me.
Ren isn’t sure how he managed to finish reading the message in full, he also isn’t sure of when he ended up on his knees, hunched over, staring at the screen as if it isn’t real.
His heart feels conflicted the more he reads and re-reads, this should be a confirmation of his death because all these are things that Ren would never get the pleasure of knowing otherwise. Since when has he been any sort of honest with Ren? Only in that engine room, on those last few moments–
The engine room, the memory of it makes his heart burn, but he clings to the fact that the message he just got is wrong on some aspects, like Shido being painted as the killer, that’s only right to some degree. This may be some sort of hint that he is misunderstanding something, and there’s a riddle right in the middle of the message, right below an address, an address to his home of all places.
So…isn’t there a small chance that this is a sign that he is waiting for Ren to show up? Perhaps to work out a plan together, one that doesn’t involve either of them dying.
The phrasing is unclear and ominous because their messages might be getting recorded or seen by another, is what Ren assumes. This is true in part, Ren bets that Futaba already got the ping for it too, but that’s another point as to why Ren holds onto the hope that this is a lie, just a way to convince onlookers that he is gone.
With shaky knees, Ren manages to stand up, walk towards his pile of clothes, and change one hoodie for another as he presses on the link to give him instructions on how to get to this apartment.
At the same time, he gets a message from Futaba about how this must be a trap, he quickly replies that he doesn’t care, he has to check, but does reassure her that if she loses his signal at any point she can call for backup. She thankfully concedes and wishes him luck.
The last thing Ren will allow to die is his hope that he somehow made it out alive.
Hope, Ren thinks, makes for a great companion.
And he leaves Leblanc.
When he finally gets to the address, he realizes that he has no keys to enter the place, and it is, of course, locked…great.
He tries to knock once, twice, thrice–and then stops when remembering the warnings. There are also no spare keys under the doormat.
Okay, lockpicking it is.
That might be what he was intended to do all along, he would know Ren’s abilities with getting in places he isn’t meant to be in quite well, probably stalked the thieves inside several palaces and saw Joker open chests with ease.
A final glance around him, making sure the coast is clear, and Ren gets to work, he has had plenty of practice in the metaverse, which is much easier than this, but not too different in the end, a satisfying click tells him that he now has access to the apartment he has wanted to be in for months now.
As he steps in, Ren calls his name, a hushed whisper, a quiet hope–
And is met with silence and dust.
It's abandoned.
Not too obvious at first sight, can’t have been more than three weeks since someone last lived here, but Ren has been in a dusty attic for a whole year, and he knows how to spot this sort of thing by now.
No–there are traces of someone coming here, paintings that aren’t exactly upright, furniture slightly tilted, bookshelves disorganized. The owner of this place would never let it stay like this.
It hurts, his legs are shaking again, and he has to hold onto the nearby kitchen counter for support.
It can’t be. He still refuses to believe it.
Ren has been sent here for a purpose, and he will find out what it is, and that might lead him a step closer to proof of how he is still alive.
Right. That must be it.
He steels himself, inhales and exhales once, and steps away from the kitchen counter.
Look below the crimson dust. Remember the day we met. Keep them safe.
That was the clue he was given, Ren might not be amazing at riddles, but he does have plenty of experience with crossword puzzles by now, and that has to count for something.
The apartment isn’t too big, also lacks decoration, or any sort of personality for that matter, a clear attempt at hiding any and all weaknesses, can’t have anything to exploit if you are nothing in the first place. Ren tries to swallow the pity–the sadness, and how nostalgic that feels, how much this entire apartment reminds him of the attic just a few months ago, and his own outlook on life.
And then Ren remembers that nickname again, ‘attic trash’, and snorts.
“You weren’t doing that much better,” Ren mutters to no one.
With how void of anything the apartment is, there are very few things he could describe as ‘crimson’, it’s mostly beiges and grays, even in the bedroom… he forces himself to not linger there for too long.
Crimson makes him think of blood, so with some anxiety, Ren searches the apartment for any possible red stain and is only mildly relieved when he finds nothing.
It takes him half an hour to go through the whole apartment, avoiding touching anything, no matter how much he wants to, in case it's a clue until he finally sits on the couch with an exasperated sigh.
Ren has thought of being dragged to this apartment more times than he can count, especially on those nights in Jazz Jin, when his eyes couldn’t help but look at those lips, wondering what they tasted like, and now that he is here, there’s not much to be passionate about.
He is chasing a ghost, and Ren isn’t a person who’s haunted, he is one who’s been cursed. At first with the promise, now with a riddle.
Ren will never be free of him, and the signing off the message being ' I hope you will miss me ' confirms just that, and the simple truth is that he does.
“What am I doing here?” Ren sighs, holding his head in his hands.
For how long will he allow a single person to dictate his emotions and thoughts? If it’s him … forever probably.
And that’s when his downcast eyes spot the carpet at his feet.
It’s not crimson, not really, but one might consider it a desaturated version of the color… a dusty crimson.
In a flash, he is up and kneeling beside the carpet, pushing it aside to reveal floorboards that look a little out of place compared to the others, to the trained eye that is. They are more fragile than the others, and not nailed down properly.
Ren doesn’t hesitate to push the one that stands out the most, until the board is completely out of place, revealing a metal box underneath.
Pulling the box out into the open, he notes that his hands are trembling.
The two of them rivaled in many ways, one of them, was secrets. Never let the other know too much about your true thoughts. Ren regrets that as well, for as fun as the rivalry was, he wonders if things would have been different without it.
He shakes his head, no point thinking of that now.
The second and third parts of the riddle cross his mind; the day we met, and keep them safe. So, the password is that day at the TV station, and this is a request to keep this safe?
Is part of this request that he shouldn’t open it then? But…a password that’s related to the two of them, given to Ren…
His hands are moving before he makes a choice because of course he needs to know everything inside this safe right now. It’s what he came here for, he needs this, a clue–
There’s a small cardboard box inside.
Cautiously, Ren opens the box, full to the brim with stuff.
Inquisitively, Ren goes through each item, each surprising him more than the last.
Robotically, Ren returns home, the box in his arms, unshed tears in his eyes.
No clue was found. Instead, Ren found a story, one that’s never been shared with anyone before him.
His hope doesn’t flicker out like a candle would on this cold night.
It stays strong, for there’s too many things binding them now.
A promise. A request. A curse.
And Ren will never forget any of them.
1/18 is the only drizzle of January.
Maruki sees to it that the world maintains the perfect weather.
Even the snow isn’t as cold as it was a year ago, somehow. Just how much power does the madman have? More than he should have is the only right answer.
It makes sense that the only time that it rains is the day after Goro overheard a bunch of passers-by complain about how they wish for it.
So, here he is, late at night in his apartment, less dusty than it should be, thanks to Maruki as well most likely, sitting on his usual armchair, a knee raised to his chest, as he looks at the gentle rain tap against his window.
It’s silly, to come back here, in a normal world this place would not be a safe one, people would be hunting him down for betraying Shido. But he has nowhere else to go, and he will be darned before he asks either Maruki or the thieves to find him a new home.
Goro hasn’t slept that much since the new year started.
Just like before everything in his meticulous planning came crashing down, he is back at four hours of sleep at best, except this time he has near to no responsibilities as an excuse to stay up.
There are no metaverse targets, no palaces to infiltrate, no TV appearances, no photoshoots, no going out to a restaurant to write on his blog about…there’s not even school to go to.
Well, he could, if he wanted…but he doesn’t.
Goro is sadly aware of his current predicament with the current reality.
If they are to win against Maruki, the chances of him existing afterward are near null.
That sort of knowledge is what makes the idea of school seem pointless. There’s no point in studying for an exam when he will never get to see the results of it.
There’s a small, foolishly hopeful, part of him that whispers ‘ But what if you stay after? Shouldn’t you prepare for such a future, in case you survive? ’ and even then he just can’t see the point, because he doesn’t know what he wants for his future anymore.
He might as well only bother with such questions if he does make it through this February.
For now, he should just enjoy life to the fullest; make a bucket list and see it through, spend all the money on his bank account, and write a will and testament…that’s what people do when they know they are going to die, right?
Well, Goro did try, he took a day trip to Mount Fuji when he knew all the other thieves were too busy to notice his absence, he always wanted to spend a bit more time in nature, away from crowds with a nice book.
It was pleasant, he supposes, but at the same time awfully boring, and it felt odd, to be relaxing in the face of a crisis, especially when he was constantly reminded of it whenever he looked at the robotic smiles of the other tourists.
And that’s how he swore off further trips.
Next, he tried the whole bucket list thing, got a paper and pencil, sat at his desk, and tried to come up with something he wanted to do before he died, only two things came to mind.
The first was easy enough to see through; visit Shido in jail.
It somehow felt like a flaw in this perfect reality, that such a corrupt man and the atrocities he committed stayed, for the most part, unchanged–well, apart from the fact that Shido has been properly brainwashed by the change of heart.
When Goro sat in front of him, he barely recognized this being as the man who had tormented him his entire life, there was no more malice or desire behind his eyes, and his sobs and apologies for how bad he felt about forcing Goro to kill for him to gain political footing made Goro’s ears hurt.
And it also offends him greatly, such apologies completely take away Goro’s agency, as if he hasn’t been in control of most of his actions and decisions for the past four years.
It was his own fucking choice to become an assassin, the right-hand man to a corrupt man, and sure, in the end, he realizes that he too was used, that the compliments were just fake niceties to make Goro grow complacent–but it was still his own choice.
At least that’s what he tells himself, to not completely lose his mind.
Puppetered by a god, by his father, and now by a second-rate therapist.
That can’t be his whole legacy. He refuses it.
So he got up without saying a word and left. That man isn’t even the person he swore to take down anymore, there’s no satisfaction to be had listening to him cry.
He still scratched it off the bucket list.
The second thing on the list he didn’t even dare write down, was a far too fragile and honest thing that he couldn’t put into words what exactly he wanted to do with it.
It involves a certain someone, and their promises and requests, their matches and arguments, and worst of all their honesty and fragility.
Goro took the subway to Yongen-Jaya and just as he stepped out his phone rang, calling for a meeting, and like a sobering cold shower, he remembered that there was no point in fulfilling the second item on the list.
So that had been how the bucket list became a useless thing to focus on as well.
All that was left was to attempt to spend all his leftover money.
Except he has nothing he wishes to buy, the only thing that came to mind was a specific collector's item, a toy from his childhood, one he saw on sale at a retro store, it could be useful too, in the fight against Maruki, he could even use it an actual weapon–the idea made him feel a bit giddy, an emotion he rarely feels.
But because even in this perfect world Goro can’t have anything nice, by the time he made up his mind to buy it, it had already been sold to someone else.
‘The boy who bought it just left, if you want to chase him down and negotiate the price, he seemed about your age’ the clerk told him and Goro almost considered it, but his pride would never let him be seen on the streets of Akihabara arguing with someone over a children’s toy.
And with that, he was out of things to do during his final days on this earth.
Might be a good thing in the end, after all, each only made him feel worse than the last, and he would rather go out with no regrets and in peace, so taking it easy is the best he can do for himself at the moment.
Tonight, he simply re-reads his favorite comic book from childhood, something he did thankfully manage to buy, not that it’s rare, they never went out of print, and enjoys the harmless story of heroes defeating villains, all tropes as cheesy as always, but somewhat comforting to revisit now that he isn’t a villain himself.
Not that he sees himself as a hero either, none of them are, as they are going to ruin the dreams of billions by putting them back in the harsh cold reality where snow can indeed give someone frostbite.
Still, it’s this story of heroes that reminds him of the safe under the floorboards.
Goro knows it’s empty, it was one of the first things he checked when returning to his home.
Which is a shame, because he would like to finish the little storybook before dying again, and that might be the one regret he will have to live with until then.
Of course, one of the two of them could just bring up the box, he must have peeked inside, probably even read the story in full, and must have questions about it, or the other belongings, the plushie, the cassettes, the photo.
Goro sighs, puts the comic aside, and stares back at the window and the drops of water slowly trailing down the surface…
It eats at Goro’s insides, that he knows more than Goro about his Goro’s childhood.
But if Goro dares to open up about the past, about all those memories, what are the chances they won’t leave him with even more regrets? That the conversation won’t lead to the second item on his bucket list, and that in the end, his resolve might end up faltering enough to ask to stay in this reality, because he does want to live–
He bites his lip down, hard, he doesn’t draw blood.
These thoughts are exactly what he has been trying so hard to avoid.
Goro Akechi won’t falter, not now, not ever.
That’s why he will never bring up the box of memories.
And he trusts that Ren Amamiya will keep it safe.
2/2 a weepy evening in February.
Maruki leaves, Morgana goes, and … he stays.
Only for long enough to make sure that Ren won’t back down or change his mind.
Considering the revelations that were suddenly put on his plate, they expect him to digest it all within twenty minutes or less, and Ren would laugh if he didn’t feel so upset.
Ren’s face must have shown his hesitation, there was no way he had long enough time to mask his emotions on the matter, this isn’t a simple matter of just saving the day anymore, this is someone’s life–and then he got yelled at, for hesitating at all, and in a bout of misplaced anger he agreed to all the terms and was left alone on the bottom floor of Leblanc.
When he goes back upstairs he ignores Morgana’s questions, simply says that it’s all been handled and they should rest for tomorrow’s fight, and changes into his pajamas before hiding under the covers.
Ren was never brave enough to bring up the darn box.
The one that’s carefully hidden in a plastic crate under his bed.
Ren thought he had time, that when things calmed down, the two of them could come to the attic, sit close to each other, and go through all these things together. Ren hearing the story behind each of them… getting to ask about his childhood and learn about her.
When Ren was asked to ‘keep them safe ’ was he referring to the items inside or the memory of that broken family of two?
So many things he wanted– wants to ask about.
But just like the scheduled message he got in his phone over a month ago had asked, Ren is only meant to know of this box, if the other is dead, and now, that might end up being the case when tomorrow comes, that he will never acknowledge the box while still breathing.
Ren’s knees come up to his chest, and he curls in a ball underneath the covers, even though he hears Morgana outside the blankets ask something before curling in a ball against Ren’s back, he doesn’t bother to reply.
No one is meant to cry in this reality that Maruki concocted, but Ren isn’t everyone, he is just a single person, with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The burden of a single choice has fallen on him, everyone trusting him to do the right one, when he doesn’t know why it has to be him of all people, is it because he is so easily swayed by the opinions of the group? Well, they were almost wrong, if he hadn’t been yelled at, he might have taken the deal, the idea crossed his mind for a fraction of a second until…
Until he remembered that he doesn’t take things at just face value anymore.
Ren has hope.
A hope that awakened the same day he awakened to Arsene, that no matter how bad things can get, he still is in some level of control of his fate–and he feels like that’s been proven right over and over again, he even took down a god with such hope.
Miracles are not out of the scope of his abilities, he is the wildcard, the god-slayer, the optimistic fool.
Eventually, he peeks from under the covers, turning around to hold Morgana a little closer, his little ray of hope taken physical form, Morgana stirs in his sleep and cuddles him back. It makes Ren feel a little better.
They will fight Maruki.
There’s a chance, however small, that everyone else is still wrong.
Maruki revealed his hand, a dirty last-resort tactic, yet it remained true that his words were…uncertain, and his memory having holes doesn’t have to mean all that much either, because even though the two worked hard to shatter Ren’s illusion, the truth is that he is still around, and Okumura and Wakaba are not.
He also came back much before the full extent of this reality kicked in, a whole week before New Year’s…
All these hints have to count for something.
Their promise has to count for something.
The request has to count for something.
Ren Amamiya will just keep hoping.
That’s how he will prove everyone else wrong.
And he trusts that Goro Akechi will be alive come spring.
During a night of April showers.
Ren Amamiya is a stubborn fool who seems to always get his way no matter what.
Goro Akechi is someone who never had the privilege before, of having things go his way, even now, he sees this in the minor inconveniences.
How the world forsakes him and blesses another, another mirror of the roles they were given by the god of control. Ren called him dramatic for saying such a thing, and Goro scoffed in reply.
But the truth is simple.
Goro is still alive, miserably having to figure out what to do next, and Ren is grinning, a lovestruck idiot who got proven right.
Not that Goro is complaining.
Currently, he is stuck in bed, with arms tightly gripping onto his waist even as he sits up to stare at the window, watching the rain knock for company.
Goro sighs. Another sleepless night with rain as his only company. He could wake up Ren, but he already does that far too much, too often, with all the nightmares and all, it’s not often he gets to wake up from one without thrashing around and nearly punching the other.
So Goro reaches for a book resting on his bedside table, turns on the lamp, and starts reading.
The slowly becoming usual routine.
It’s only been two weeks since they started living together in Goro's old apartment, and he already knows that he will never get used to this, but he will also never be able to live without it, now that he knows what it feels like, to have the warmth of another in his bed.
It’s still hard to believe they ended up like this at all.
When he stopped Ren from getting on that train, handing him all the paperwork necessary to finish his schooling in Tokyo rather than his hometown…Goro had only meant to repay a favor, for having taken down Shido, for having taken the box, and for never betraying his wishes by the end.
But he should have expected that Ren had grown tired of their cat-and-mouse game by now, experiencing losing Goro twice clearly had an effect on him. It turned Ren… honest and impatient.
Ren, the boy of few words and few emotions, as far as most people are concerned, was spilling his true emotions upon their reunion, even though they had gathered an audience.
Goro, selfish and unused to experiencing love, saw that his patience had run out a long time ago as well, and cut off sentimental speeches by smashing their lips together.
The second item on the bucket list finally crossed off.
And he was right for not having done it sooner, because after one kiss, Goro craved a second, and a third, and forth–and Goro knows he would have died with regrets if this line had been crossed back in January.
They didn’t move in together immediately.
Goro wasn’t ready for a relationship either, but then after a week passes it becomes blatantly obvious that Ren's mood considerably drops whenever Goro has to leave, because Ren swore to never pretend anymore, and Goro isn’t so heartless as to just watch and do nothing about it.
And since Goro wasn't going to move into the attic… Well, he does have a guest bedroom.
So after one more kiss, he proposed his new thoughts, and it didn't even take a second for Ren to say yes, and then kiss him again.
The whole kissing stops after that for a bit.
They aren’t animals in heat, Goro explained to Ren, and PDA is something that he isn’t too comfortable with, even if no one remembers him, the detective prince, the habit of looking presentable in public is still second instinct.
But it was empty excuses, just so he had time to adjust to the whole affair of being wanted like this by someone else, by someone like Ren.
The cat doesn’t come with them, not yet, but Goro knows that he will join eventually, he is pretty much inseparable from Ren after all. The creature complained of being too disgusted with their so-called ‘honeymoon’ phase to spectate it and mentioned that he prefers to stay with the Sakuras for a bit longer.
Goro knows better, that it was their way of looking out for him because Goro wasn’t ready to go from zero flatmates to two, much less to go from no family to…a tentative one.
So, for his sake, things settled into something a bit more quiet.
Ren cooked meals that left him asking for seconds, Goro cleaned and redecorated the home into something more cozy, and the two sat a bit closer than friends on the couch watching a series or playing a game that the other enthusiastically recommended.
Goro got his time to adjust.
In just under two weeks this abandoned apartment became a proper home for the two of them, and Goro started accepting that someone actually likes being around him, the real him.
It was no secret that Ren had certain affections towards him, Goro wasn’t blind, their matches and rivalry were something they both looked forward to after all, but it was surprising that even after Goro showed him his most unpleasant self during all of January, those affections stayed unchanged.
So, from friends openly lying to each other, to rivals, to the victim and his murderer, to unlikely teammates, to flatmates who happen to enjoy the taste of each other’s lips–whenever Goro is ready for those kisses again.
Goro thought he could live with things as they were. He still felt in control, as much as it was possible considering the mess that society still is.
There was no rush on Ren’s part either, to change things, to give their relationship a name.
But then things changed again during a specific night, another sleepless one.
Goro woke up in a cold sweat, from a nightmare of a woman he still wasn’t ready to revisit– empty eyes, bloody smiles… Goro forced himself to not throw up.
He wandered towards the kitchen for a cup of water just to try to do something that wasn’t spiraling in his bed, when he nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed a pale figure curled up on the couch, crying.
In the daze of sleep, he almost forgot he had a flatmate, but the sight of messy black hair was all he needed to snap out of it.
A lot happened after.
Goro cautiously approached Ren, sitting on the opposite side of the couch.
Ren launched himself into Goro’s arms as soon as he noticed his presence, crying for the first time since they met, terrified out of his mind of something that Goro couldn’t understand, but he murmured something about ‘thinking you died again’ that made Goro’s heart twist in his chest.
Goro doesn’t remember what exactly made him decide what he did next, but the truth is that it happened regardless, and he doesn’t regret it.
His hold on Ren changed to a cradle carry, and Goro took Ren to his own bed, pushed the blankets over the two of them, and lulled Ren back to sleep while still holding his waist and petting that mess of hair.
Maybe he did it because it reminded him far too much of what his mother would do whenever he cried after a nightmare, or maybe Goro had grown tired of Ren believing that he could disappear at any moment.
Regardless, they have yet to sleep in separate beds again after that.
A whole week has passed since then.
It’s…uncomfortable, to trust someone else this much, but it is nice waking up to a kiss on his forehead and freshly made breakfast every day. Goro never slept in before this arrangement, but now his limbs feel heavy unless he smells eggs in the air, guiding his feet to the kitchen where a fresh cup of coffee awaits.
Ren’s influence is nothing to scoff at, and Goro understands how he managed to rope so many outcasts into following his every word.
Goro is growing soft at a rapid pace, getting used to having nice things, and it’s equal parts exciting and terrifying.
Laughing at unfunny jokes, speaking of his less refined interests, leaning into gentle touches, looking forward to being home where someone awaits him–it’s all pleasant.
Goro has to forcefully remind himself that it’s fine, he isn’t fighting to stay alive, or working towards some massive revenge plan anymore, learning to take it easy is… fine .
In his reminiscing of what the past three weeks have been like, Goro realizes that he has yet to read a single word on the page.
He closes the book, and stares at the rain outside for a bit longer, is it the first rain since they started living together?
Maybe he should just try to sleep again, between the rain noises and Ren’s quiet breathing something has to eventually lull him to sle–
“Nightmare again?” the sentient ball of hair mumbles next to him, startling Goro for a second.
Goro looks down, Ren stares at him, worry clear on his expression, so Goro pokes the space between his furrowed eyebrows with a sigh, “Nothing to concern yourself with, go back to sleep.”
Ren yawns, still sleepy, “Which one was it?”
He hesitates, at some point, Goro started telling Ren what his nightmares consist of, and by now Ren knows they rotate between five different things. “My mother,” he manages to say.
These happen a lot more since Ren started living with him, even more since they started sharing a bed, almost day on and off at this point. The reason is very obvious, the fear of losing someone he loves has come back.
Ren doesn’t reply for a while, and Goro wonders if he just fell back asleep, which is fine, he should do the same.
But Goro is wrong, Ren's eyes open again, and the emotion on his face is indescribable. “Do you want to open the box?”
Ah.
The silent agreement has finally been broken.
Goro has known that the cardboard box is back inside the safe under the floorboards, he saw Ren put it there the first day he moved in, but neither commented on it.
“I don’t know,” he replies a bit too honestly.
Is he ready for it?
There’s a good chance that the contents will make him emotional, especially after the dream he just had, so… is he ready to cry in front of someone else? That’s a lot of fragility that no one has seen from him in years.
Ren sits up, his eyes never leaving Goro’s. “Would you rather go through it alone?”
Ah, is his hesitation on the matter obvious? Goro bites his lip and looks away. “No, I know you have questions.”
“I do,” Ren nods. “But I understand that the contents are… personal, and I know you don’t like that I’ve gone through them.”
Goro scoffs, “I’m the one who gave them to you.”
“Just because you thought you wouldn’t be alive to protect them.”
Touché.
Goro looks at Ren again, a pretty and disheveled thing, with eyes still struggling to stay open, he has also let Goro see parts of him that no one else knows, except maybe the cat. Ren's fears don’t end at the idea of Goro dying again, there are a lot more, worries about the future, struggles with his family, and the way society will never let his record go even with all of Goro’s best attempts at erasing it, just to name a few.
Ren still uses those glasses, a mask that never left.
But he has let Goro see him without them. And without all the lies and pleasantries… it’s about time Goro does the same.
“Okay,” Goro sighs. “Go grab it.”
“You sure?”
“No. But it’s about time I know how that story ends.”
“You don’t know?” Ren stares at him, surprised. “Is it not yours?”
The subject is already proving to be too much, and they are still just chatting in bed… “Sure, but how well do you remember the things you created when you were seven?”
“Ah. Fair enough.”
Without another word, Ren gets up and disappears into the dark hallway.
Goro tries his best to stay calm, he knows what’s inside the box for the most part, he reminds himself.
It’s just been a bit over half a year since he put it all away, there shouldn’t be any big surprises… he brings his knees up, arranges their pillows more comfortably, and fixes the blankets a bit.
When Ren comes through the door with the small box in his hands, his breathing is still quiet and his heart slows, the same way it would be before a big fight in the metaverse, expecting only the worst.
Ren leaves the box by Goro’s feet as he climbs inside the bed again, shuffling until they are attached by the hip, and Ren has an arm around Goro’s back. “Should I do the honors?” Ren asks quietly.
“Please,” Goro breathes out, feeling tension building, it’s almost time for the first attack.
Hands reach for the box, and a bunch of trinkets almost pop out for having been trapped for so long.
The first thing Ren grabs is the plushie that has its head out of the box, a round bird that once used to be white, but after so much traveling and cuddling had become more of a grayish yellow.
“What a cute fella,” Ren chuckles.”Seems very loved.”
“Hm,” is all Goro replies. “I think she won it for me at an arcade.”
He isn’t sure, it’s been too long, but he does know they couldn’t afford it otherwise, even if it’s just something as big as his hand.
“Does it have a name?”
“I…” Goro frowns, he knows that it did, once upon a time, it’s at the tip of his tongue but… “I don’t remember.”
His mouth closes, and he holds his knees a little closer, the first blow is always the one he least expects, like he has forgotten pain until that very moment. That’s what it feels like right now as well.
Goro lets his head fall on Ren’s shoulder, it’s a small way to avoid having his expression seen and a big way to make sure he remembers there’s someone by his side through this fight.
“Maybe you will remember someday, or we can name it ourselves.”
“Mmm.” Is all of Goro's reply.
Next, Ren puts the few cassettes to the side, as if saving them for later, and goes for the crown jewel of the boxed memories, the storybook.
“Ready to learn the big finale? I think it has a great ending.” He holds the cover up to Goro’s eyes.
The Hero and The Dream by ▇▇▇▇▇▇
The marker makes Goro wince, such a pointless way to cover his tracks.
“Can you read it to me?” his voice is small and unsure. The story is probably cringy nonsense, the kind that Goro would want no one to read, much less read it aloud, but Ren’s voice is nice, and Goro doesn’t get to hear it much since Ren tends to be more reserved and… Goro thinks it will help, somehow.
“I can,” Ren’s smile is clear in his voice, and Goro tries to relax a little as they turn to the first page.
Ren breathes in, and starts spinning a tale, speaking like a proper theater kid;
There was once a small hero.
He was gifted the magic sword of sea light that can cut through anything that is mean to the Dreams.
The scary aliens were the most evil of all, his big rivals.
They are much taller than the hero, always dressed in black, and eat Dreams for breakfast.
The aliens are villains. They invade the hero safe home and eat his favorite Dream.
“That’s as far as I read last time,” Goro mutters, interrupting the story.
Ren's hands lower a bit, the curiosity in his voice is clear, “Why did you stop?”
The answer is simple; “Was pointless for my revenge.”
At first, the room falls silent, and bad memories resurface but then… then Ren chuckles, the sound makes Goro feel a little less cold, so he leans closer. “But you missed my favorite part!”
The laughter is contagious, and Goro snorts at the theatrics. “Keep reading then.”
Ren clears his throat and flips the page.
The big Dream is the hero best friend and teacher.
She is busy a lot of the time, but the hero is always happy to see her.
They travel together sometimes, and she is the one who shows the hero the world.
Her voice sounds like flowers, and her hair looks like clouds, and that’s why she is a Dream.
Ren’s stifled laughter stops the story. “You were a real poet. How does someone sound like flowers?”
“Shut up,” Goro feels his cheeks heat up, starting to regret this choice.
“If I shut up I can’t read.”
Oh, the clever prick. “Speak only if it’s to read, obviously.”
“ Fiiine,” Ren pretends to whine. “But I want to know what my voice sounds like someday.”
Like raindrops, Goro doesn’t say.
Ren flips to the next page.
But clouds and flowers are weak, when the aliens don’t take her away, the wind does.
That’s why the hero has to be strong for her.
But after defeating an alien, Dream gets angry at the hero.
They sit down together, and Dream teaches him something new.
She isn’t weak, she can be strong too, and she can fight with the hero, they can be a team.
Her powers are different from the hero, but she is even more powerful.
And that’s the story of the dream that's a hero, and the boy that’s a hero.
Together no one can stop them!
Ren stops reading there, but there’s one more page, with small letters in the corner that read;
Thank you Mom for being my dream !!!
Goro gulps, but his mouth is too dry, and it hurts his throat.
“What a lackluster story,” he mutters dispassionately as if this reaction might make him feel less emotion about the whole thing.
“I think it’s cute, it teaches teamwork.” Ren turns his head and plants a kiss on the top of Goro’s. “And that’s what we are now, right? A team.”
“I suppose,” he mumbles, just so he doesn’t remind Ren what happened to his last ‘teammate’ portrayed in the storybook. “There was a paper petal with the book, was there not?”
Ren hums, shuffles through the box, and passes it to Goro the only remaining handwritten note from his mother.
‘Thank you for protecting me, my little hero. I promise to protect you too.’
Only now does he notice his hands are trembling.
“She wasn’t a great mother,” he mutters. “She wasn’t always a dream, and she wasn’t strong either.”
A hand comes up to his hair to play with a few strands, it’s calming, and Goro tries to relax.
“How so?” Ren whispers, leaning his head on top of Goro’s.
“Sometimes she was a nightmare,” his voice wavers at the confession before he composes himself. “She would yell at me when things got really bad, and at first, when I made this story, I would blame the men that she brought home for making her that way,” he tries to sound detached like it happened to someone else, but they both know better. “Eventually I realized it was my fault too.”
“But it wasn’t.”
Goro scoffs, and it sounds broken like he is on the verge of tears. “Easy for you to say, I was an extra mouth to feed, an extra expense that she couldn’t afford, and every second spent with me was seconds she could have spent making money, or finding a better life.”
“I have to disagree.” Ren shuffles through the bag finds a picture, and passes it to Goro. “This was stuck to the other one, so I tried my best to separate them.”
It’s a picture that Goro has never seen before, one of him and his mother laughing in each other’s arms…it looks happy. “I don’t remember this.”
“You are probably right, that things were hard for the two of you,” Ren speaks as if his voice might break glass, and perhaps it might, if Goro finds his heart suddenly made of the stuff. “But I don’t believe for a second that she didn’t try her best for the two of you and that she wasn’t happy living with you.”
It’s so easy to believe Ren, when curled up together like this, holding a photo that radiates happiness, but there’s one issue. “Then why did she leave me? If she was strong and happy–then why?”
“You know why. All it takes is one particularly bad day, and even the strongest person can falter, even if they have someone they love a lot.”
Ren’s petting of his hair is growing to be too much, and Goro is starting to feel small, like a child after a nightmare.
“I miss her,” he hiccups, his vision going blurry. “I want to apologize to her. I want to tell her that Shido will never hurt her again and that she can come back.” He is aware he sounds whiny and naive, but he can’t help it, not right now, when maybe his heart really did become broken glass.
Ren takes the picture from his hands so that Goro’s shaking grip doesn’t ruin it, he is thankful for it. “She is still with you, right here, in this box. For as long as you remember her.”
“But I don’t.” Goro turns his head to the side, to hide it in Ren’s shoulder as his tears start to spill, he hiccups as he continues speaking, “I forgot so much. I forgot the bird’s name, this stupid book, and when we took that picture.”
Their positions change as Ren turns to the side, enveloping Goro with both his arms, rhythmic movements still petting his hair. “Good thing you are an ace detective, right? If someone can find information on her, and your past, it’s you.”
Can he? He worked so hard four years ago to wipe it all clean–but he was fourteen, a child that barely knew what he was doing… Maybe there is a small chance he missed something, or that he can restore what he deleted. “I guess I can try.”
“Futaba would help if you asked.”
Goro freezes, and the tears fall silently. “Don’t,” he begs. He can’t be reminded of the girl he orphaned, not right now, even if things are better between them, this isn’t–
Ren cuts off his thoughts. “Okay, then I will help.”
“You know about hacking?” That’s new, just how many tricks is Ren hiding under his sleeve?
Ren chuckles. “No, but how hard can it be?”
Nevermind. “Idiot,” Goro sniffles, a bit amused.
Only now does he realize that he stopped crying.
Goro sighs, “...You have questions.”
“They can wait for another day.”
They still don’t move from where they sit, but Goro finally raises his arms around Ren’s back too, pulling him close. “ I want to know.”
“Alright. Are the cassettes from your favorite cartoon from when you were a kid?”
“...Yes,” Goro tentatively replies. “It’s an adaptation of Featherman into traditional animation.”
“Did they ever make merch of it?”
Where is this conversation going? “Not a lot, mostly just the new designs of the character weapons.”
“Okay cool, 'cause I may have bought one of them for you as a gift.”
Goro scoffs, naive Ren as always. “They haven’t been in the market since–” it clicks. “ You are the prick who stole my dying gift for myself,” Goro mutters in disbelief.
Ren stops petting his hair. “Your what ?!”
Goro finds himself scowling against the shirt, cheeks puffed in annoyance. “Doesn’t matter.” It’s fine, he will just demand his gift during tomorrow’s breakfast, and a thousand written apologies. “Is this really what you wanted to ask? About cartoons?”
There’s no way this is Ren’s real questions.
It takes another moment of silence, as Ren resumes playing with his hair, before he fesses up, “No. I wanted to ask about your mother. But I don’t think today would be the best time for it.”
Fair enough, Goro is pretty happy with the idea of not crying more, it made him feel gross, and the wet shirt he is hiding his face in must agree. “One question,” he concedes.
Ren caves in as well. “What was your favorite food that she cooked?”
Goro immediately feels a bit better because he does remember the answer to this question.“Her Oyakodon.” A simple cheap dish of rice, egg, chicken, and vegetables. “I haven’t had it since.” He avoids it in fact.
“The parent and child rice bowl.” Ren mumbles, deep in thought. “Can I cook it for you?”
His first instinct is to say no, he doesn’t want to associate Ren with things related to his mother–but it’s true he doesn’t want to run away from memories of her anymore, and he would much rather eat a recreation of the dish by a capable chef like Ren, rather than a stranger. “Okay.”
At last, he untangles himself from Ren’s arms, and raises his head a bit, in turn, Ren’s hold eases as well.
Ren speaks first, “How are you feeling?”
“Bad,” he replies honestly. “It’s easier to not feel anything.”
Ren chuckles, wiping something from Goro’s cheek, a tear probably. “Doesn’t sound very healthy.”
“You are the same.”
“...Sometimes.” Ren finds Goro’s hand and intertwines them. “But I have gotten better, now that I have you.”
“Hm. I still don’t like crying.” Feels gross, and unguarded. He likes staring at Ren but his vision is still blurry, another downside.
Ren reaches for a tissue on his side of the bed and starts cleaning Goro’s cheeks. “You know what they say, April showers bring May flowers.”
Uh, a foreign saying Goro has heard in passing. “My mother said a different one, that April may bring a thousand showers, but in May there will only be three or four.” He has no idea where she learned it from, perhaps her parents? It wouldn’t rhyme in English, and it doesn’t sound very Japanese either. Something else to research, another clue already gathered.
“That’s sweet,” Ren smiles. “About how things might be bad right now, but they will slowly get better?”
“Perhaps,” Goro shrugs. “Or maybe just about the actual weather.”
“You lack romanticism, even though you were such a poet as a child.”
Goro rolls his eyes. “Would you still say that if I said you can kiss me again?”
Ren’s eyes open a little more immediately, “No.”
“Get on with it already then.” It’s almost said like a challenge, Goro even dares to grin again.
Their first kiss was three weeks ago, and their last one was two weeks ago, since then Ren has respected Goro’s boundaries to an annoying extent, and right now, fragile and tired, Goro doesn’t find himself caring much about taking it slow.
He misses the gesture.
When Ren tilts his head and presses their lips together, Goro finds himself sighing, their breaths mixing into one, and the gentleness makes him feel like he might cry again–he doesn’t.
Instead, he deepens the kiss, rising to the invisible challenge he set for himself, a hand raises to Ren’s hair, and pulls him closer, not allowing either of them an extra second to breathe. They haven’t kissed like this before, it’s always been tentative and unsure kisses meant to convey that they care about each other apart from speeches of being thankful for being alive.
But what Goro is trying to say tonight isn’t all that.
Thank you for being here for me.
It’s his invisible way of showing his gratitude, words he still can’t quite say aloud, but he knows Ren will get the message, he always does.
Pulling away from each other, regaining their breaths as their foreheads rest against each other Ren chuckles. It’s a nice sound, the corner of Goro’s mouth quirks up as well, and he finds himself melting on these arms that promise to keep holding on for as long as Goro stays breathing.
Later, with Goro’s head resting on Ren’s chest, he speaks again. “Ren,” he has not ever called him by that name, that’s a first. “Will you take me to see May flowers?”
Ren reacts to the first name, a small shiver and love dripping from his voice. “Of course, Goro.”
Goro’s turn to shiver, that does feel weird, he looks up to catch Ren’s eyes staring at him with a wide grin.
“Where would you like to go?”
Goro already knows. “Your hometown.”
“Why? There’s better places.”
“I want to learn about your past too.” It’s only fair. “And I want to visit her grave and give her flowers that you picked.”
Ren’s eyes go wide, and Goro can see how he just proved himself to still being ‘a romantic’ but Ren doesn’t point it out, thankfully.
“...Okay.” A kiss on his forehead. “Sounds like a plan.”
The rain also comes to an end outside.
Goro closes his eyes and falls asleep.
An afternoon in May amidst flowers.
Ren thought it would be harder to revisit his past.
The unanswered calls and messages on his phone had piled up after a year, and taking that first step had been hard.
But Goro was there, sitting close by, pretending to not be listening in as Ren took that tentative first step…and Ren wondered if this was his plan all along, to give him a motive to reach out.
Still, they do go, schedule a three-day weekend trip, pack, and set off.
Things will never be the same in that small town, and Ren doesn’t think he will ever want to live there again, too many memories, good and bad, and even more rumors, all bad. The help in reconnecting with his family is appreciated, Ren doesn’t hate them, but Goro does understand the many ways in which they failed Ren, and respects the idea of never coming back after this trip.
It’s not all terrible though, not with Goro by his side, pulling him along into the park of azaleas; pinks and reds surrounding them from all sides. They are breathtaking, and Ren doesn’t think he ever appreciated them properly in his sixteen years living here.
Goro stares at them with subtle interest, trying to not look that impressed, but Ren knows him too well by now, there’s genuine joy behind those eyes as Goro grabs his hand and pulls him along to the very center of the park, impatient to see the rest.
A petal falls on Goro’s hair as they walk, and Ren chuckles.
His boss at Rafflesia had told him the meaning of these flowers before; the joy of love. Ren understands now why they would be dubbed as such.
Overwhelmed by everything surrounding him, from the memories of a park of his childhood to the hand around his, firm and present–alive, truly alive, in an undisturbed reality.
A couple of silent tears trail down his cheek as he reaches out and removes the petal from an unaware Goro.
“Hey, Goro.”
Goro startles as soon as he looks back, his grip on Ren’s hand turns gentle. “Ren…is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “It’s just…” he hesitates on saying those three words, scared of what will make Goro push him away, break this illusion of happiness they have been in for two months–but then Goro steps closer to him.
"Yes?" Goro's smile indicated he already knows and has known, for a very long time.
The clouds part and the sun shines brightly.
Ren wipes away his tears and smiles back.
Tonight, there will be no rain. I love you.
I know.
Tomorrow, we will still be here. I love you too.
I am forever yours.