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For what feels like the hundredth time, Goro checks his phone for a message. Just like every other time he’s looked at it in the last two hours his notifications are noticeably blank. He bites back a grumble and shoves the phone back into his pocket.
With a little more force than is necessary he swings the door to Leblanc open, the normally cheery bell a little shrill this afternoon.
“Careful, that door did nothing to you,” Sakura-san says, without turning around, like he knows it’s Goro who has just not-quite stormed through his door.
With some chagrin, Goro lets the door click shut in a more gentle manner before he strolls forward into the cafe proper. Very little about the downstairs has changed in the time Goro has known it. Sojiro, he’s found, is particular about the interior of his cafe.
It’s the loft that has seen significant upgrades. Goro knows because he’s had a hand in at least half of them. A hand, a concussion, and at least one trip over to Takemi’s for stitches. Home improvement, much like cooking, is not his forte.
“Stay there a second before you storm the castle, will you?” Sakura-san still hasn’t turned to face him, leaving Goro to stand there, like a hesitant and shy child waiting for permission to enter.
It grates on him but with age comes patience the younger, angrier, version of him wouldn’t have had for the situation. This Goro Akechi knows that when Sakura-san asks him to wait, he should listen.
So he shifts from foot to foot hand itching to dig at his phone again to check for a message that still isn’t there. Thankfully the cafe is empty of customers, so his anxiety is really only on display for the security cameras.
Not that an audience would matter. It’s been a long time since Goro bothered putting on a mask for the world, and in a place that is almost like a second home to him he refuses to bother with feeling bad about showing his emotions.
Growth, his therapist might call it. Exhaustion with the world is the term Goro prefers.
“Alright. Take this up with you, and try not to throw it at him. I’d rather my hard work not go to waste for the second time today.”
At last, Sakura-san turns, placing a tray on the counter between them. A steaming bowl with what is very much not the usual curry Leblanc offers rests there, alongside a clear cup of water and a scattering of pills of which Goro can only identify Tylenol.
“Make sure he takes all of them, yes especially the flu medicine. No he is not allowed to ‘tough it out’.” With that, the man waves Goro off like any of that made sense at all.
He stares at the tray, runs the calculations in his head, and decides this is a conversation better had with the loft’s occupant than the shop owner.
Goro gives a sharp nod, and lifts the tray. The scent of soup hits him, the herby broth foreign and strange in a place so full of spice coffee. His heart constricts, worry replacing some of the irritation that so recently had it racing.
Like he’s doing Goro a favor, Sakura-san opens the door that now leads up to the loft, holding it in place so he can pass through without juggling the tray.
As he passes, Goro doesn’t miss the slight quirk of the older man’s lips, but chooses to ignore it. His goals won’t be fulfilled by lingering here and picking apart whatever scheme the elder Sakura has going on. He’s long learned to accept whatever father or daughter throw at him.
Without knowing exactly what is waiting for him upstairs, Goro makes his footsteps loud enough to be heard as he ascends. It’s second nature to skip the squeaky step, though he does pause for a second, considering the addition of that noise. He settles for skipping it, better not to make Ren think a stranger was wandering up.
The noise does its job, because he’s met with a raspy, “Sojiro?”
Black tufts of hair, messier than normal, poke up and out of a mountain of blankets atop the bed. Goro’s positive Ren doesn’t actually own that many, meaning a few have likely been hauled over from the Sakura’s residence. Either that or Ren has become even more of a blanket hoarder than he was before. Which is equally likely if Goro is honest with himself.
The mountain shifts when Goro doesn’t immediately answer, some of the blankets tumble off the bed to pool on the floor as Ren pushes himself up. Black curls give way to a face that is far more washed out than Goro would like, his nose the only spot of color painted an angry red.
Gray eyes blink at him. Goro gives the truth of his presence a moment to sink in, a sick Ren is worse than a sleep deprived one. His brain runs about as fast as a broken watch.
At last, his eyebrows bend together in a frown. An actual frown follows a moment later. And then, slow like the dawn creeping in, his mouth drops into an ‘O’, while his eyes go wide.
“The movie, at one?”
“The movie at one.” Goro agrees.
“My phone-” Ren’s arms fight their way out of the pile of blankets, sending another two tumbling to the floor as he pats uselessly on top of them. Goro lets him search for a moment before he tilts his head pointedly at the small table next to the bed where the forgotten phone rests, buried halfway under a box of tissues. From the way the charging cord is hanging limply over the edge of the table, it likely has zero charge left.
“Sit up properly, Sojiro said you need to eat.”
Goro moves forward even as Ren’s hands flash over to the phone and poke with a feverish intensity at the blank screen. It takes quite a lot of willpower for Goro to bite back his smirk. Heroically he manages it, no need to kick a man while he’s down.
He can afford to give Ren a break. He’s feeling a lot better than he had walking into Leblanc after all. The sting of rejection strangely soothed by the whole ridiculous affair facing him now.
By the time Goro makes it to Ren’s bedside, his fever-addled brain has picked up on the directions he was given. The phone is set back on the table, and with a withered glare, Ren plugs it in. As Ren shoves himself a little higher against his pillows Goro busies himself setting the tray down beside the charging phone.
“Why did-” Ren breaks off to cough into his arm, the action rattling the bed.
It goes on longer than Goro would like, making him wonder just how long Ren’s been letting this little illness fester and grow. He hadn’t let on at all while they’d been making plans. Ann had messaged just yesterday that the two of them were out for crepes and that he should ‘show up unannounced to surprise them’. Whatever that meant.
When Ren looks back up, Goro’s got the cup of water held out to him. He takes with a grateful look, sipping instantly.
“These next.” Goro scoops up the pills and holds them out.
Ren gives Goro’s palm and the pills within a look of disdain, nose crinkling like they’re giving off an odor. “They make me groggy.”
“Ah yes, because this is Joker at his best.” Goro waves his free hand over the sad lump that is Ren.
His friend’s scowl deepens. “You have a terrible bedside manner.”
“And you’re proving to be a terrible patient.” Goro shakes his hand, rattling the pills. “Take them, or I make you.”
Goro is well aware of why Ren doesn’t like medicine that impacts his ability to think. But he is also aware that letting the flu rage through him unchecked is worse than digging up bad memories. He can apologize later, but for now it’s important he make sure Ren gets better. Especially since the fool’s gone and done an incredibly poor job of dealing with said flu, if his state today is anything to go by.
They stare at each other for a few heartbeats, wills clashing as Ren weighs trying his luck.
With a groan, he relents. “Fine. But only so I can feel good enough to destroy you at chess later.”
He allows the excuse and drops the pills into Ren’s hand then stares him down. Waiting.
“Really?” It’s not a whine, more a frustrated huff. “Sojiro warned you I’d try something, didn’t he?”
Goro crosses his arms. “He didn’t have to.”
They know each other well enough Sakura-san could have shoved the tray into Goro’s hands without a single word and he would have known exactly what to do when faced with an ill Ren. The same could be said if their situations were reversed. Ren has managed to elbow his way into taking care of Goro more often than he cares to admit.
Neither of them are very good patients.
Ren pops the whole handful in his mouth chasing them down with water and a grimace. “Happy?”
“Getting there.” Goro waves at Ren’s blankets. “Can you eat buried under that mound?”
At the stubborn look on Ren’s face it’s Goro’s turn to relent. “If you spill I’m not cleaning it up.”
He lifts the tray to set it on Ren’s lap, eyeing it and his friend warily for a moment. When no catastrophes occur, Goro nods.
“Are you leaving now?” Ren asks, spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Why would I do that?” Goro raises an eyebrow.
A shrug. “You look like you’re going to bolt.”
Huh. Goro hadn’t realized that. He’s not—nothing about him was made to heal or help. His bedside manner is, in fact, terrible. But he’s also not going to storm back downstairs and leave Ren to wallow alone. It’s obvious Sojiro is doing his best, but he also has a business to run.
If he had to rely on Goro to help– if he’d been counting on him coming in full of righteous fury at being stood up, well then the rest of Ren’s friends must be unavailable. Heaven knows relying on Goro is akin to a last resort when it comes to the list of people best suited to soothe and coddle Ren back into health.
Goro’s anger has mellowed to something aimed less at Ren missing their movie– hang out, trip– meeting. Instead it’s narrowed, sharpened to a point at Ren’s obvious lack of self care. How he manages to take care of the entire world while forgetting about himself, Goro will never know.
“I’m not.” It comes out almost angry. Goro breathes and tries again, softer, “I don’t plan on leaving unless you’d like me to.”
The spoon rises and falls a few times as Ren takes that in. Goro finds that standing there, all but looming over the bed, is almost as bad as waiting for Sakura-san downstairs. His feet itch to move. Not flee, but standing here is torture.
Without an obvious rejection to his statement, he decides at last to drag the chair at Ren’s desk over to the side of the bed.
“Sorry,” Ren says, voice quiet, once he’s sat down.
“There are a good many things you could mean by that.” Goro regrets the words as Ren’s shoulders tighten. Who let him play nurse and why didn’t they stop him? He blames Sojiro. If Ren cries it’s on him. Not Goro.
Ren swallows, wincing. Goro wishes he’d stop talking. “You were looking forward to the movie.”
“I’d rather you not kill yourself over a movie, Amamiya. It can be rescheduled easily enough.”
“I should have messaged you,” Ren stares down at his soup rather than up at Goro, “I thought about it.” His brows press together, forehead furrowing, “I thought I did.”
How sick must he be if he’s forgotten things like that? He remembers Sojiro mentioning his hard work being ruined once. Had Ren been throwing up too? Or simply too disoriented earlier to manage eating on his own? This must have all hit him like a tidal wave overnight, so much pent up avoidance and false bravado giving way to an illness he could no longer wave away. Had Ann not noticed any symptoms yesterday? Or had Ren laughed them away like he does with all his problems?
“You’re a fool,” Goro tells him, heat lacing his voice.
“I did mean to.” Gray eyes go wide. They’re watery and red rimmed from Ren’s illness, which makes the effect all the more potent, “You know I’d never just leave you.”
The words are a blow. Goro is sure Ren doesn’t mean them to be, and yet they are a blade sunk between his ribs all the same. He knows. Ren would sooner die than do what Goro has done to him countless times. He sees it in his friend’s eyes when they meet again after just a few days of being apart, that relief. The release of tension in his shoulders and ever so slight widening of the smile on his face. Every time Goro leaves, Ren acts like it will be the last. And when he returns it’s as if his world has come back to life.
It makes Goro want to turn around and leave again.
Not to hurt him, but because Ren deserves so much better in his life than his once killer twice dead rival being anywhere near him. Let alone allowing him to hold such a valuable place in his catalog of friends. All Goro can do is destroy. It’s all he’s done to Ren, and all he’ll ever do.
“I wasn’t talking about the message,” Goro clarifies, “This can’t have started today.”
Even staring at his soup, Goro can see Ren’s face shift, a sheepish look coming over him. It’s blinked away almost as quickly as it showed up as he focuses instead on the bowl in his lap, spooning more into his mouth a little too quickly as he studiously ignores the statement.
Fine.
“How long has it been going on?”
And why on earth had no one called him on it before now?
Goro casts his eyes around the room. “Where is Morgana? I thought he was supposed to help make sure you don’t die of a cold.”
Ren sniffs into his soup, and finally lifts his head. “He and Futaba are on their school trip. He didn’t want to be left behind this time so she got him on the list of approved service animals.”
Considering Morgana’s importance in Ren’s life, Goro would go as far as to say he is fulfilling that role pretty well. They all might benefit from getting the cat officially declared a service animal. Not that he’d probably like the ‘cat’ part too much. But it would solve the problem of having to sneak him in everywhere Ren goes.
“Your guardian angel of a cat leaves and you what? Decide to tank your health for the fun of it then?” Goro crosses his legs, then arms, gaze firm, “What does your sister say again, oh yes. No mods no masters?”
Ren grimaces, but squares his shoulders prepping for an argument. Goro knows what’s coming next. He’ll talk about how he didn’t mean to get sick, and how it wasn’t a big deal. He might even try to claim this isn’t a big deal. Goro doesn’t really want to hear it.
“Your hero complex takes the front seat in your life more often than not. And because of it you end up running yourself ragged. For what? A bunch of people who let you lie to them about your physical and mental state? I’m sure you were half ready to actually meet me at the theater today before Sojiro manhandled you into bed.” That gets another wince out of Ren, and it only makes Goro more angry.
“Not everyone’s going to call you on your bullshit. They’re too eager to let you fix their problems rather than see yours. And you,” His pitch has raised higher, “You’re ready to throw yourself away if it means helping someone.”
The wetness in Ren’s eyes is from more than just the fever now. Guilt slams into Goro, but not hard enough to make him stall, “You have to put some value on your own life sometime.” Goro tells him, voice dropping to something far softer, “Or would you rather make yourself more of a hypocrite in my eyes?”
Ren bites his lower lip as he swallows. They both know what Goro is referring to without him having to lay it bare. If Goro isn’t allowed to throw his life away, then neither is Ren.
When Ren doesn’t say anything and the silence stretches between them, Goro lets his arms drop, hands squeezing into fists. “I’m not angry at you,” His voice is gentle, “I’m angry for you.”
It’s an echo of words Ren himself had said almost two years prior. When Goro had been still lost, adrift in a world he didn’t know how to live in anymore. A world he had never thought he’d have to see. When Ren had offered to help him piece his life back together and find something to make of it.
And now here they are, Goro on a path he can actually be proud of. And Ren still bending over backwards for a world that would rather spit on him. All the while somehow also making so many strides towards his own goals. Goals he’ll never reach if he burns himself to the quick.
Someone has to step in and care for him if all he’s going to do is care for others.
“I know.” Ren’s voice is quiet, worse still for how scratchy it sounds. They shouldn’t be having this conversation while he’s sick. But it’s been bubbling and building between them for a long time now. Settled right beside the other, less tangible thing that they keep dancing around. One they can’t get to until this hurdle has been overcome.
He pokes his spoon back into his bowl, stirring it. Bits of chicken and vegetable rise up floating for a moment before they fade back beneath the broth, “It’s just easier to worry about everyone else. I like doing it.”
Goro sighs, his hand twitching, the urge to reach out and take Ren’s hand strong. He tangles his own fingers together, squeezing. “Then let me worry about you.”
He hadn’t planned on saying the words aloud.
The thing is, they are the same, he and Ren. The masks they wear to protect themselves against a world that doesn’t care also hurt them in ways they can’t avoid. Not if they want to hold onto the mask. And Goro knows Ren will hold onto his just as tightly as Goro himself will, no matter how much pain it causes.
Because of that, he can see the things Ren hides. They are no different from what Goro hides, after all. It’s easy to track the cracks in Ren’s carefully crafted persona, to see the splinters, and hear the discord well hidden in his voice.
Gray flashes up, surprised. “Wh–” Ren shakes his head, “No. No, you don’t have to.”
Rejection, searing and worse than the simmering thing he’d felt standing alone in front of the theater threatens to swallow him. It is acid in his throat, proof he has no right to speak to Ren’s life at all.
“I see.”
No matter how painful the truth may be, it is unsurprising. For all the knowledge he has, Goro is sorely unequipped to help. He’s a fool to think for even a moment he is anything other than a killer. He can only ever seem to break the things he sets his mind to. If he ever needed any proof, he need only look at all the minds he’d shattered on his path of revenge.
He need only look at the person in the bed.
Goro has no right to want to care for Ren. No right to even attempt it. And Ren seems to understand that as well.
Before he knows it, Goro has stood, the chair making an awful screeching noise against the floor. Violent in its movement, and as unsteady as his knees feel. Both of them a boat on stormy waters.
Words crowd Goro’s throat.
An apology. Starting with shooting Ren, ending with the attack on his eardrums from the chair. Redundant, and useless. Words said a hundred times.
An excuse. Something has come up, he forgot an appointment. A lie. Flimsy and torn before it ever leaves his mouth.
A noise indescribable. The broken rattling of china, Goro’s hopes smashed with so few words.
Instead he bows, the movement slight and stiff before he spins on his heel to leave.
Fleeing is the coward's way out. Especially after promising Ren he wouldn’t. But he’d promised he’d stay as long as he was wanted. He knows now where he stands.
“Akechi, wait!”
Goro doesn't turn. It’s not many steps to the staircase.
“Hey, don’t just leave. What did I–” Ren’s words break off into a series of coughs, deep and heavy as if the china scattered in Goro’s lungs is trying to escape Ren’s.
His feet freeze, rooting him in place through cough after cough as they grow in intensity to the point where Goro’s not sure how Ren is breathing
It feels like fewer steps to get back to Ren than it had leaving his side. And then Goro is there again, dropping into the chair so he can lean forward, one hand on Ren’s back the other taking his hand.
“Easy now. Breathe through it okay?” He rubs circles in Ren’s back, the memory of a different hand, long and delicate, flickering at the edge of his memory, a different voice soft and warm echoing the words.
Ren wheezes, catching air at last. Under Goro’s palm he can feel the rattle of Ren’s lungs, how his ribs hitch, the coughs wrestling with the air he’s trying to get in.
“Sojiro will never let me hear the end of it if you cough yourself to death, so calm down.” Goro says, the words more a distraction than an actual demand. He knows how hard it is to stop such a fit when it’s started, and thinking about something else can help., “And don’t spill your soup, alright. It’s a miracle it hasn’t tumbled out of your lap.”
He releases Ren’s hand to reach for the bowl, teetering dangerously between bent knees and Ren’s chest. The spoon is already lost, tumbled onto the ground with a chunk of chicken, and will have to be dealt with eventually, but he can at least save the carpet from a permanent chicken scent. He’s stopped as Ren grabs for him. Fingers squeezing so tight it’s like he’s trying to pin Goro in place.
Watery gray eyes pierce him, working better than the iron grip to hold him down.
“Don’t go.” It’s wheezed, hardly audible.
“Idiot, I’m not going to,” Goro scowls.
“You were.” The words sound like they were run through a grater, desperate and shredded.
Goro turns his hand to Ren's, slipping their hands together. “If you put on dramatics because I was leaving—”
Another cough rattles them both. Ren sniffs, then sniffs again. There’s wetness at the edge of his eyes Goro wants to wipe away. “Didn’t, but I’m glad it stopped you.”
It doesn’t look like the coughs are going to take him again, so Goro drops his free hand from Ren’s back and scoops up the tissue box. “Don’t get snot on me.”
Ren snorts, snatching up a tissue. “No promises.”
They’re still connected, Ren’s grip unyielding.
“You said I didn’t have to worry about you.”
Goro braces himself for a second blow. He’d asked for it, so at least this time he should be prepared. That, of course, doesn’t stop anxiety from curdling at the back of his throat, sour and thick with the waiting.
Ren is quiet, the tissue balled up in his free hand. Their others are still tangled together. Goro can feel the heat through his glove. More than just his fever. The warmth between them is smoldering. Tight. Like Ren is trying to melt them together.
Goro wants to squirm, to tear his hand away. And yet the mere act feels impossible. He sits there, poker face in place as time stretches out. The silence between them is almost suffocating. And Goro doesn’t even have the consolation of guessing Ren’s thoughts. His mind is inscrutable in this moment as he chews on Goro’s words.
A smile flickers across Ren’s face at last, “I thought you said you could see through my bullshit?”
Goro blinks at him, realization hitting him like a train. “You—” He stops, anger sputtering back to life in his chest, “Don’t lie to me anymore.”
He feels like the fool now. What good is being able to see through Ren’s lies to others if Goro himself lets things like anxiety and emotion overshadow Ren’s lies to him? It’s infuriating the way he makes Goro forget himself. How he can dig up emotions Goro was once able to hold tightly by the reins.
“Sorry,” Ren squeezes the tissue again, thumb and forefinger playing with the corner, “It’s a habit.”
“One you should break,” Goro bites. He wants to cross his arms but he’s still tethered to Ren.
“This is what I was talking about. All you do is push aside your own needs. Don’t get me wrong,” Goro shoots him a glare. “I’m only offering because you’re too stubborn to do it yourself. And I owe you. That’s all.”
“Point taken.” He swallows, gaze tipping down to the bowl in his lap, miraculously unspilled. “If the offer is still on the table, can I take you up on it?” Ren looks up at him.
Goro rolls his eyes, warmth blooming in his chest again. “Someone has to.”
Ren smiles. The look lighting up even the washed out features on his face, and lifts their connected hands, mischief twinkling in his eye, “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Ridiculous,” Goro snorts, a smile rising alongside their hands in return, then adds, “Now, I have to go find you another spoon so you can finish that soup of yours, or I’ll look like I’m already failing to keep my promise.”
He doesn’t mind the coolness as Ren frees his hand to salute. “Can’t give you more work than you’ve already accepted.”
There’s a lightness to Goro as he stands and makes his way towards the stairs again. “I’ll grab the crossword while I’m downstairs too. It’ll be hours yet before you’re in any shape to think straight enough for chess.” The last words are tossed over his shoulder.
Goro can’t help but chuckle as Ren’s outraged splutters follow him down the stairs. Hope swells in his chest with each step. He’s not built to heal, but he can help in his own way. Ren seems eager enough to let him try, and Goro thinks that maybe, just maybe, that is enough.