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Sometimes he brushes his teeth so hard that his gums bleed.
He doesn’t really care.
Sometimes he’ll scratch a mosquito bite so hard that that bleeds too.
He doesn’t really care.
After all, the blood doesn’t really phase him. It’s on his hands, isn’t it? It’s been soaked into his palms for years. And even if he can’t see it anymore, it’s still there.
He sits in Jazz Jin alone – much to his disliking, but he’ll never admit that aloud – and swirls his drink with its straw. The thought of him still being around makes him want to puke. He had originally believed that maybe, just maybe, he’d be put out of his misery, but for some odd reason, he’s still here. He silently wishes his drink were stronger, even though he isn’t of age yet.
Tonight happens to be a night where there’s live music, and the performer just so happens to be the same one who was there when he came to Jazz Jin with Ren for the first time. Her voice is so smooth, so pure, yet he feels a pit in his stomach. He once liked this song, but he isn’t sure if he does anymore.
He’s been unsure about many things, but his complicated feelings for Ren outweighed them all. He would lie in bed at night stuck between whether he’d rather punch his face or hold it gently. 9 times out of 10, he’d tell himself that he’d rather punch it. He’ll then remember the time Ren had to hold his face when he ruffled his hair and put his glasses on him as a disguise, and he’ll fall asleep begrudgingly imagining Ren being there with him.
He wonders what Ren is up to right now. While he’s sulking in the jazz club alone, Ren is probably laughing and enjoying his time with his friends at Leblanc. He takes a deep breath, letting the air slowly fill his lungs, as he thinks about how Ren always has people by his side. He wants to wish he were one of them, but he stops himself as he exhales. It’s just another thing he envies about him.
Once he finishes his drink, he swiftly leaves the club and sticks his hands in his coat pockets as he begins his walk to the station. It’s a particularly cold night, and the lights from all the shops and vendors show how rosy his nose has gotten because of it. He doesn’t like seeing his breath as he exhales, either, as it reminds him that he’s still functioning.
Thankfully, the train isn’t too full because of how late it is. He takes a seat farther away from anyone else and stares out the window as the train moves along the tracks. He has the urge to pull out his phone to kill time, but ignores the thought because he doesn’t want to see a certain friend group.
Maybe it’s petty, but he doesn’t really care.
-
He arrives at his apartment, leaves his shoes by the door, and heads to his room to change into his pajamas. He finishes changing and stares at himself in the mirror, analyzing every feature about himself. Was his hair getting longer? And since when did his eyes look that dark?
One thing that he notices is his freckles. He hadn’t bothered to cover them up lately because he hadn’t been in the mood. Looking at himself now in the mirror, he doesn’t see Goro Akechi, he sees his mother. That was one of the many features the 2 of them had in common, along with the color of his hair, the shape of his eyes and their color, his nose, and even his smile. It was hard for him to move on sometimes, even though it had been a little over a decade since she passed, because of how many times she was the one looking back at him. However, he would much rather have these features in common with her than with his bastard father.
He sighs and makes his way to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, only to leave it on the coffee table in the living room as he sits on the couch looking out the window at the city. Once again, he wonders what Ren is doing. Is he awake at this hour too? Maybe he’s up playing video games with Futaba. Or perhaps he’s making up new coffee blends? He considers messaging Ren but decides against it. Maybe he’ll go to Leblanc tomorrow morning instead; it has been a while since he’s had a cup of coffee there. Plus, it used to be his favorite. He always felt so comfortable there. Not that he’d ever tell Ren that.
It would probably make him smile, but he doesn’t really care.
-
By the time he’s no longer lost in thought, his water has gone warm.
He tries reading before bed, but it doesn’t ease the lingering anxiety that he refuses to admit is there. He tries listening to his favorite kind of jazz, but that doesn’t distract him either. He glances at the clock and notices that it’s past 3 in the morning. This isn’t the first time he’s been up this late. It’s been happening more frequently than not.
He’s anxious, he’s nauseous, he’s restless. He doesn’t want to lie down; it makes him feel worse. He begins to pace around his apartment, unsure of what to do. For a detective, he’s pretty damn clueless right now.
He assumes Ren is asleep and wonders what he’s dreaming about for a split second before his stomach churns. He splashes cold water on his face in the bathroom and internally asks himself why he can’t get that idiot off his mind. A small part of him wants to show up to Leblanc unannounced, but he chooses not to. It’s too late, and he can’t be bothered to unlock his phone to call Ren and wake him up. Besides, he’s supposed to be dead. The phone call and seeing Akechi’s name on his screen would give Ren more of a shock than a quiet knock at the café door.
His anxiety gets the best of him, and he finds himself running back to the bathroom. He kneels on the floor and quickly puts up the toilet seat, heaving as his worries leave him. He coughs and flushes, then washes his hands before he limps to the kitchen to pour another glass of water. Eventually, his body crashes, and he falls asleep curled up on the couch.
It isn’t as comfortable as his bed, but he doesn’t really care.
-
He jolts awake around 8. A bit late for his liking, but at least he got some sleep. However, he’s confused as to why he is where he is. Last night was a little fuzzy, but the details slowly return to him. He puts both glasses from last night in the sink and goes to his room to make his bed, as it was still messed up from the night prior. He looks around and takes note of how drab his room looks. If Takamaki ever stepped foot in here – although, why would she? – she would lose her mind. He doesn’t know why he thinks of her, but he ignores it. He sees his small Featherman figure on his dresser – Red Hawk, his favorite – and remembers that was something he and Futaba had in common. He remembers how excited she used to be to talk to him about it whenever the group took trips to Mementos. His heart feels heavy for a moment, but he ignores it.
He heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and as he does so, he counts his freckles to keep his mind busy. He catches himself wondering if his mother had this many as well and tells himself that it doesn’t matter.
He’s pretty sure the answer is “yes,” but he doesn’t really care.
-
Somehow, he finds himself on the train again. Something in his gut tells him yet again to go to Leblanc, and enough time has passed since the Maruki incident that he feels slightly confident enough to do so. He hopes that Boss, Futaba, the customers, and especially Ren don’t mind how disheveled he looks with his dark eyebags and his quickly, yet barely, brushed hair. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t want Ren to think less of him, but he ignores that thought.
He gets off the train at the Yongen-Jaya station and makes his way over to his old favorite café, silently praying no one recognizes him. Just thinking about putting on his Detective Prince act makes him feel nauseous again. As he walks through Yongen, he turns a corner and sees the familiar awning of Leblanc. He feels a shiver run through him and convinces himself it’s just because it’s cold out. He approaches the door and pushes it open, the bell ringing above him. A few people are sitting in the booths, and Boss stands behind the counter with a cigarette in hand, watching the TV. Futaba sits at the counter finishing up a plate of curry, and he feels a pang in his heart seeing her again after what feels like ages. She turns to look after she hears the bell ring and nearly drops her fork.
“Y-you,” she starts, “you’re alive?!”
“I suppose so,” he says with a shrug, trying his best to make sure he doesn’t sound disappointed. “Is Amamiya around?”
Futaba slowly nods, clearly very confused. “He’s upstairs,” she tells him. “Do you need me to call him down, or…?”
“If I have permission to head up, then I can go on my own.” He says very matter-of-factly.
Futaba huffs. “If you wanna give him a heart attack, then sure, be my guest. I’ll just let him know he has a visitor, and then you can go.”
He wants to glare at her after she sassed him, but he resists only because Boss is right there. He’d rather not get on bad terms with him. He assumes Ren and Futaba filled him in at some point after learning everything, and suddenly, he can feel blood on his hands again. He wipes it on his pants and watches Futaba go to the bottom of the attic stairs.
“Hey Ren, someone’s here for you. I’m sending ‘im up.” She calls to her brother and waves Goro over.
As he heads up the stairs, he has to calm his brain down and silence the thousands of thoughts that swirl around. They all seem to quiet down once he reaches the top and sees Ren sitting on the edge of his bed, looking right back at him.
Ren’s eyes widen, and Morgana nearly topples over. There’s a moment of silence before Ren stands up and walks towards Goro. They’re inches apart now, and Ren whispers, “Is this really you?”
Goro nods.
“Are you… real?”
Goro nods again. He’s too afraid to speak. Before he can even open his mouth, Ren quickly wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug.
“Wh- what the hell are you doing?” Goro scolds him. Part of him wants to push Ren away because he hates this, but the other part wants to stay because he needs this. Instead, he stays frozen in place with his arms at his side and lets Ren hug him as hard as he needs to.
“You have no idea how relieved I am right now,” Ren mumbles. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”
Goro scoffs as Ren pulls away. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you hear yourself?”
“I haven’t heard from you in weeks! Do you know how devastated I was? I thought you were gone for good this time.” Ren tells him. Morgana stays quiet and watches.
Might as well have been, Goro thinks.
“Come, have a seat,” Ren says, grabbing Goro’s hand and pulling him over to his bed. The 2 of them sit on the edge, where Ren was before, once again in silence.
“So,” Ren starts and clears his throat, breaking the silence after a moment. “How’ve you been?”
“Must you be so disgustingly awkward?” Goro says bluntly. He sees Morgana trot downstairs and assumes it’s because he wants to give them some privacy. He thinks he hears Boss scold him for going down to the café, but he also thinks he hears Futaba say that it’s for a good reason.
Ren hums and adjusts his body so that he’s lying down. He tugs Goro’s arm and pulls him down with him, and now the 2 are shoulder-to-shoulder staring at the ceiling. Goro wonders why he’s letting this happen.
Goro misses a lot of things, a handful of which he’ll never outright admit. He misses his mother’s cooking, especially when she’d make homemade pancakes for him in the morning, and the way she’d always pour the right amount of syrup for him. He misses the way she’d softly sing him lullabies when he was a toddler to help him fall asleep. He misses the way his mother would play along whenever he played “Hero.” But right now, in this moment, he realizes he’s missed Ren’s touch way more. And that’s saying a lot.
After what feels like forever, Ren finally turns to face Goro. It feels awfully intimate, and Goro doesn’t know if his face is hot because he’s uncomfortable or if he’s finally getting what he’s subconsciously longed for.
“You don’t have to believe me, but I’m really glad you’re around.” Ren softly smiles, and Goro has to look away to compose himself.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Goro says quietly, almost in a whisper.
“But that’s the thing,” Ren keeps going, and Goro wants so badly to shut him up. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I’m not an idiot.”
Goro doesn’t know how to reply.
And, as if he could read minds, Ren says, “You don’t have to say anything.”
The 2 are now staring at each other, and it’s strange. Goro wants to look away, but it’s like his red eyes are locked onto Ren’s gray ones. He begins to analyze Ren the way he was analyzing himself in the mirror the night before, but in an opposite manner. Have his eyes always been that pretty? Did his hair always look that soft?
Goro snaps out of his thoughts when Ren gently places his hand on his cheek. He hesitates for a moment, but then asks, “May I?”
He’s caught off guard, but he chooses to trust his instincts and nods. He leans in, and Ren leans in, and all of a sudden they’re kissing, not once, not twice – and Goro loses track. He puts his hand on the back of Ren’s neck and briefly feels blood on his palms again, but he internally tells himself it’s not really there so he doesn’t ruin the moment. He hasn’t felt this free, this relaxed, this vulnerable, in far too long. Obsessed with the feeling of Ren’s hands on him, he decides he doesn’t want this moment to end.
For the first time in a while, he actually cares.