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“Lala-chan, pour me another round of… whatever it was I just ordered.”
“You know I can’t do that, doll,” she replied resolutely. “Nor would it be advisable to let you go out on your own anytime soon. These streets can be a seedy place at night, especially for wayward souls like yourself.”
None of the foster mothers Goro cycled through over the years could compare to the real thing, and it took a kindly bartender in the red-light district for him to feel even a fraction of her warmth. Or maybe that was just the alcohol settling in his stomach.
“You’re too kind, Lala-chan.” He pushed his empty glass away, and she filled it with water. “It’d be so easy to take advantage of a lonely heart like mine.”
“That’s why I always keep such a close eye on you.”
“I’ve navigated this place perfectly fine on my own thus far.”
“Have you?”
Like an infant in a cardboard box, Goro arrived at the Crossroads rather unexpectedly. He’d been kicked out of one bar already, and instead of taking that as a sign to call it quits, he looked elsewhere for satisfaction.
But Lala Escargot stood her ground. He could still stay, however, given he didn’t make too much of a fuss. That became their routine most Saturday nights: she’d reserve a stool for him to lament his woes, and he’d (reluctantly) promise to stay out of trouble. She didn’t care much for his identity as a former micro-celebrity; here, he was just Akechi Goro, average loner.
He’d mentioned Sakamoto and Kitagawa, though not by name. All she knew was that he’d apparently ruined his only chance at happiness—if he even had one to begin with.
“This song is awful,” Goro complained a few weeks ago. “He’d love it.”
“There’s something almost… beautiful about the way the colors of this drink fade into each other,” he later remarked. “They’d probably find it beautiful, too.”
Now, Goro twirled the paper umbrella around his glass before carefully pocketing it. He’d kept every one of them, as a reminder of Lala’s endless compassion. “Did someone turn on the AC? It feels a little breezy in here…”
A door creaked shut behind him. “Yu-Yu!” Lala cried, and the sudden change in volume sent Goro’s head spinning. “What are you doing here? Your shift doesn’t start until Monday.”
He turned around, confused. “Huh? Who’s—”
“Mama Lala, so lovely to see you!”
It’d be impossible to forget such a voice. In a world that had fallen out of tune, it was the perfect melody. A melody Goro didn’t think he’d ever hear again.
“Kitagawa…?”
Teased hair spilled past his shoulders, nearly reaching his waist. He wore a sleeveless indigo dress and black stockings, complete with heals that made the already tall girl absolutely tower over Goro. His face had become like a second canvas, precise brushstrokes complimenting each stunning feature. Stormy eyes widened in recognition, and his mouth hung open in silent shock. He wasn’t alone, either.
Sakamoto entered behind him, stopping short to take in the bewildering sight. “Woah.”
He’d certainly grown up as well. Most of his hair was trimmed back to its original color, though he’d kept a few striking yellow highlights. There were several new piercings in each ear, with another on his left brow. The same spot as Kitagawa’s scar, Goro noted. He still wore the same torn, colorful clothes as high school—now donning a black leather jacket over top. Stubble dotted a slightly squarer chin, and laugh lines framed kind, hickory eyes.
They looked… accomplished. Goro, on the other hand, remained trapped in the past, which never bothered him around people who didn’t know or care to know his name, but now… He shrunk under their gaze, every flashing light as bright as the studios he was forced to appear in. And unlike those appearances, he had no script to fall back on.
“I wish things hadn’t ended the way they did.”
“I should’ve called.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I love you.”
The thoughts flew by too fast for his mouth to catch up, so he said nothing.
“Goro…?” Kitagawa said breathlessly. “Is that really you…?”
He could only nod.
“Holy shit… Goro, where the hell’ve you been!?” Sakamoto sounded almost angry at first, before opening his arms with a wide grin. It made Goro sick. After all this time, he thinks we can just pick up where we left off so easily? Does he even know me? Did he ever?
The answer was yes, yes he did. Goro wanted to throw himself into that hug, to apologize for leaving without so much as a goodbye, but he didn’t. He stared straight past those waiting arms until Sakamoto dropped them dejectedly. “Sorry, that was kinda… forward of me.”
“You two know him?” Lala asked, and with one look from Goro, she realized. “I’ll give you dolls some space. Don’t try to order anything for him.”
Kitagawa gestured toward a booth, and he followed them over. “How often do you come here? Mama Lala gave the impression you’re a regular.”
Mama Lala? Yu-Yu? “I am,” Goro replied, intrigued enough to finally speak. “And what’s this about a ‘shift’ on Monday?”
“It’s a bit of a long story.” He picked at his nail polish. “To summarize, I began working here shortly after we… lost touch. Every other job I’d taken didn’t last very long. I was already woefully underprepared for the real world, and often made simple mistakes that cost me greatly.
“What’s more, I couldn’t go a single interaction without hearing ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Kitagawa.’ Eventually, Ren gave me a tip about the Crossroads, and it changed my life. Here, my identity, appearance, interests, and speech patterns were never questioned. I could simply be, and not have to worry so much about rent, or where my next meal was coming from.”
Goro cracked a half-smile. “Lala-chan truly is incredible, isn’t she?”
“Indeed. You deserve a figure like her in your life.”
Do I, though? Instead of arguing, he simply replied, “Hmm.”
“She also mentioned somethin’ ‘bout not orderin’ anythin’ for you,” Sakamoto chimed in. “What’s that all about?”
“I haven’t developed the… healthiest coping methods, per say.” Glimpses of something, fear, perhaps, crept into Sakamoto’s expression. He’d spent most of his early childhood around a raging drunk. The last thing he needed was another. “But that’s my cross to bear, it doesn’t concern either of you. Besides, Lala-chan always stops me before I can go too far.”
“And why shouldn’t it concern us?” His fear was quickly replaced by the hint of anger Goro detected earlier. “You’re our friend, Goro. We’re allowed to worry ‘bout you.”
The fact that he was still considered a friend to them should’ve eased any doubt in his mind, but a selfish part of him longed for something more. Traces of red lipstick trailed up Sakamoto’s neck, and Goro tasted bile in his throat. He wanted to be the one with Kitagawa’s soft lips on his pulse, or to put his own lips on Sakamoto’s.
He also never wanted to see them again after tonight. He’d admit to this selfishness; that he couldn’t cope with two people loving each other if they didn’t love him, too.
“I don’t need your pity,” Goro sneered. “Just because I’ve lost my ‘made-for-television’ filter, doesn’t mean I’m unable to take care of myself.”
“You said Mama Lala controls your alcohol intake,” Kitagawa said, and curse my impudence. “Without her, where would you be? Answer me honestly.”
Goro couldn’t do that, not without further incriminating himself. “So this is how you greet a supposed ‘friend?’ By interrogating him for signs of alcoholism? Seems a bit presumptuous to immediately believe I’m so much worse off without you.”
“You ain’t exactly givin’ us any reason not to believe that!” Sakamoto was fuming. “What kinda friends would we be if we didn’t care!? Christ, Goro, you look like you haven’t changed outta those clothes in days!”
Though they may have seen through his initial slip-up all those years ago, he could at least lie convincingly most of the time. Now, he was an open book, and they flipped through each page with disdain. He had nothing to lose, yet it still felt just as humiliating.
“Must you be so loud? You’ve attracted the attention of half the bar.” He nodded at a few confused patrons, who quickly averted their eyes. “Have you ever considered, perhaps, that this overbearing interest of yours is exactly why I left to begin with?”
It was, but not for the reasons he’d implied. Goro hated how much of their lives they’d dedicated to setting him back on his feet. They deserved better than someone who needed constant, exhaustive reminders of his will to life, someone who’d put up a fuss every time they guided—no, practically dragged—him toward acts of self-care. He was less of a friend, and more of a petulant child they’d been forced to babysit.
He’d hoped he could learn to love them more than he hated himself, and when that proved impossible, leaving became the only reasonable option. To allow them the future they’d been denied, and to spare them from the guilt of knowing him.
Kitagawa sighed. “I won’t let you push us away again. It was a mistake not to take your absence as a cry for help. I- I apologize for that. If I’d only done more to—”
“Stop. Please… just, stop.” Kitagawa was owed an apology far more often than he gave them. “It isn’t your obligation to chase after me, not at the cost of your own wellbeing. You aren’t responsible for my actions. We’re simply… incompatible. It’s time you accepted that.”
“And it’s about damn time you accepted how stubborn we are,” Ryuji huffed. “Friend or not, you’ll always be a Phantom Thief, and thieves gotta look out for each other.”
“I’m not- I was never a ‘thief’. I only joined your group to betray you, then to defeat a common enemy. I never planned on sticking around beyond that, should the Metaverse and I still exist. Best case scenario, neither would, but I digress.”
He placed both gloved hands on the table. They trembled a little. “It was certainly a surprise seeing you here today. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking my leave. Goodbye.”
“Uh-uh, nope, nooo-sir-y,” Sakamoto held onto his arm. “You’re not goin’ out alone. It’s late, and you’re drunk. Functionally drunk, but still drunk.” Goro squirmed, and despite the firmness of his grip, Sakamoto remained oddly gentle with him. “We’re walkin’ you back to the station whether you like it or not.”
“If I accept your offer, will you promise to leave me alone?”
Sakamoto glanced at his girlfriend, then at Goro. “Fine. Sure.” Kitagawa winced.
“Good, now let go.”
He seemingly trusted the former detective enough not to run off, so he obliged.
Kitagawa, on the other hand, could barely look Goro in the eyes anymore. His shoulders slumped forward, any confidence he had for the evening leaving alongside Goro’s patience. They’d spent over a year apart, and it hadn’t changed a thing. Kitagawa was apparently the last to realize this, and Goro couldn’t tell if he seemed more disappointed in him or himself.
After dropping their ‘friend’ off at the station, they’d return to their colorful apartment and bask in the relief of dodging such an obvious bullet. Sakamoto would run his fingers through Kitagawa’s stupid-perfect hair, and Kitagawa would smile against Sakamoto’s stupid-perfect mouth, and they’d be perfectly content in their own stupid company.
…God, he loved them so much.
“A pleasure to see you, as always,” Kitagawa said, waving to Lala as they left.
“You as well,” she replied. “Take good care of him, Yu-Yu. Though he may not admit to it, this hot mess cares a lot about you two.”
Lala-chan was everyone’s mother, in one way or another. And while he’d never get quite so comfortable as to call her his own, she was the closest Goro had ever come to the real thing.
*****
They walked back to the station in near total silence, save for Sakamoto’s occasional awkward whistling. He wasn’t good with silence—he also couldn’t force Goro to talk, so an old habit filled the void instead. On a good day, Goro found it fairly charming, and he’d often try to guess the song before it ended. On a bad day, it sounded no different from nails on a chalkboard.
Today was, obviously, a bad day.
“Do you mind…?”
“Oh, not at all.” He whistled louder.
Kitagawa groaned. This was going to be a very long walk.
When they finally arrived, the couple continued to follow Goro through the terminal. They weren’t being discreet about it, either. “I’ll be alright from here,” he said.
“Uhh, this is our line, too,” Sakamoto replied, slightly amused.
Goro felt heat rising in his cheeks. “Oh. My mistake.” Of course it wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of them. Maybe this was a sign to start talking.
“‘Yu-Yu,’ huh?” he began. Kitagawa perked up. “Do you have any… interesting customer stories? At a place like the Crossroads, it’s impossible not to encounter the occasional oddball.”
“I’m quite aware,” Kitagawa winked. Me. He’s talking about me.
“I suppose I walked into that one.”
Sakamoto snickered, resting his chin on Kitagawa’s shoulder. “Tell the one about the girl who came in with her pet squirrel! What was his name again…?”
“Velcro, because he always—snrk—stuck to her shoulder!” Kitagawa snort-laughed, cupping a hand to his mouth. He always laughed with his chest; loud and bass-y and beautiful. Goro’s stomach did a somersault.
“And—snort—and Velcro wore a little harness, too!” Sakamoto added, joining in the boisterous laughter. “How’d she get a harness that small!?”
He couldn’t help it. Their joy was too infectious. “Did you- did you let her stay?”
“That was my dilemma!” Kitagawa waved a hand in the air. “I asked Mama Lala, and she didn’t even believe me at first! The- the look on her face when she saw- priceless!” He caught his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “For sanitary reasons, she unfortunately had to leave. However, I will never forget Velcro’s legacy, and its resulting addendum to our animal policy. I hope he’s doing well, wherever he is now.”
Goro smiled wistfully. “Being spoiled rotten, most likely.”
Sakamoto watched the exchange intently, stars reflected in his eyes. “There he is.”
“P-pardon me?”
“I missed your smile. Thought I’d lost my chance to see it again.”
“You didn’t exactly do a good job at making it happen.”
“Yeah, well, you were bein’ snarky, and I was still mad at you for leavin’.”
“Was? You aren’t anymore…?”
The train arrived, and they boarded an empty car and took their seats.
“The time we spent walkin’ over allowed me to think on it a bit more, and…” Sakamoto rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m mad, but not as much as I thought I was. I’m more so upset that you didn’t give us any warnin’ before you left. We were really worried, Goro. Then Ren told us you just… didn’t wanna talk anymore. It hurt. It still hurts. But we can’t force a friendship that ain’t workin’.” The words seemed almost painful to say. “And it… didn’t work for you.”
“It was too much to ask for us to start over,” Kitagawa solemnly continued. “We aren’t the same people anymore. We aren’t kids anymore.” He scooted a bit closer. “I understand you no longer wish to be friends, though I would like to maintain at least some level of contact with you. To make sure you’re okay, if that’s alright.”
He hardly asked for anything, ever. He’d starve before requesting a meal, out of fear that he was leeching off his friends’ kindness. Madarame’s ghost loomed over him with each commission fee exchanged, each desire he failed to repress. Goro understood better than most how difficult it was to free oneself from these intrusions, but it broke his heart nonetheless knowing Kitagawa still struggled.
“Yes… that’s alright. I’ll try not to leave you in the dark so much, though I can’t promise to always pick up the phone. I won’t… initiate, either.”
“Thank you, Goro.” The longing in his voice remained. “It means a lot to have you back in our lives, if only for a short while.”
Caught up in the heat of the moment, Goro finally tuned back into the announcements, and was horrified to hear they were nearly three stops beyond his own.
“Shit. I missed it.”
“Shit,” Sakamoto repeated. “You gonna get off at the next stop and turn around?”
Kitagawa squinted at the board, clarifying, “The final train of the evening left two minutes ago.” That look of shame from the Crossroads returned. “I’m sorry for distracting you.”
“It’s not your fault, I really should’ve been paying more attention.”
“Now what?” Sakamoto threw the question out there, then caught it almost immediately. “Wait! What if you stayed over at our place!?”
“Hold on—”
Sakamoto wasn’t done. “Before you immediately turn down the offer: this doesn’t hafta change anythin’ between us. You don’t gotta say a word. You can just sleep on the couch and leave first thing in the mornin’. Simple as that.”
Goro pondered his options, and theirs was certainly the safest (and the least expensive).
I’m not burdening them, he reasoned with himself. They invited me. Years spent inside the foster care system had prepared him for situations like these, where it was advisable not to take up too much space. They’d hardly even know he was there. And pretty soon, he wouldn’t be. One night. That’s all this is.
“…Okay.”
“Okay? Cool!”
It made no sense why they were almost relieved not to be rid of him yet. He hadn’t given them a single reason for this level of enthusiasm, yet here they both were, unable to stay put while they waited for their stop. Then again, a lot of things they did confused him.
Sakamoto had claimed his anger stemmed from concern, and Goro… Goro wasn’t used to that. In the past, when someone went from rage to excitement so quickly, it meant they’d found something they could hold against him. It became such a regular occurrence that he’d eventually picked up the habit as well. But Sakamoto never wanted anything in return, only the reassurance that Goro was safe.
After disembarking, they led him back to their apartment, and sure enough, it was just as quirky as he’d expected.
The common area doubled as an art studio, paint-stained tarps taking the place of rugs. Canvases, ranging from the size of his hand to the height of the room covered every wall. Where there weren’t paintings, there were scholarships, awards, ribbons, and about a dozen photos of Sakamoto and a group of young athletes. Two pairs of muddy sneakers and three brightly-colored scarves greeted him by the front door. Grocery lists and photos of the Phantom Thieves were stuck to the fridge with magnets from Hawaii.
It was the perfect little space for the perfect couple. Goro felt sick again.
“Here we are!” Sakamoto announced. “Not bad, eh? Ann and Haru helped decorate.”
“Well, there’s no doubt whose apartment this is.”
“I’ll take that as a good thing.”
Kitagawa fetched some blankets for the couch while Sakamoto sat with Goro at the counter. “Sooo- shit, wait, I said you didn’t hafta talk. I can go.”
“It’s… fine.” He glanced around the room once more. “You’ve made a decent life for yourselves. I’m impressed.”
“What, didn’t think we could do it?”
“That’s not what I- you know what I meant. For two people to be so compatible, especially ones as different as you—and out of high school, no less.”
“Yu and I ain’t that different. Interest-wise, sure, but when it comes down to it, we’re both fightin’ for the same goal.” Sakamoto began worrying his bottom lip. “I- I kinda thought we were as well, actually.”
“Us? Compatible? Surely you can’t be serious.”
“The hell would I lie about somethin’ like that? You might think we’re too different to work out, but we’ve got a lot more in common than most people I know.”
Kitagawa reentered, laying out the blankets. “I found us to be very compatible, Goro. Perhaps as compatible as Ryuji and I.”
The implications were impossible to ignore. Goro froze, and the freckles on Sakamoto’s face drowned in a soft pink as he turned away. “Uh, yeah, I agree.”
“Wh- I- what?” So much for not saying a word.
“You’re still inebriated, so I cannot imply any more than that.” Kitagawa fluffed a pillow and placed it at one end of the couch. “Your bed is made.” He walked back down the hallway. “I’m sure you’re incredibly exhausted. We won’t keep you up any longer. Goodnight, Goro.”
Sakamoto followed him. “G’night, Goro. Have a safe trip home.”
Still in shock and fully clothed, Goro silently climbed under the covers.
“—Work out—”
“—Compatible—”
“—Imply—”
He wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.
*****
A quarter after midnight, Goro knocked on their bedroom door.
“Mgghh… huh…?” he heard Sakamoto call out weakly. “Goro…? S’at you…?”
“Hmm… Come in…” Kitagawa rasped.
Goro slowly opened the door and stepped inside. “Don’t- not another word, okay?”
Sakamoto beckoned him forward, and Kitagawa raised his head from beside his boyfriend, flashing a lazy little smile. Goro crawled over their legs and slotted himself between the duo, and in the haze of sleep, as two sets of arms instinctively wrapped around him, he was right where he belonged.