Work Text:
“…Regardless, I thought over the matter of who we’re going to invite for our school festival. I’m considering asking Akechi-kun,” Makoto said. Everyone’s faces were drawn in anxiety and tension. They needed answers that neither I nor Makoto had. But I started to tune out most of the conversation. Makoto was competent after these last few months working together, so I trusted her to keep my Thieves focused. I had no right to think, because she was leader of the festival committee, but I wished she had discussed this with me first as a Phantom Thief matter. She irked me to no end, despite her position as our strategist. She couldn’t, shouldn’t know about our meetups, but I knew I was a better point of contact for you than Makoto. She didn't know what you responded to best. Makoto didn’t know you loved an over-the-top, cavity-inducing compliment no matter how much you complained or a subtle challenge to your skill that toed the line of demeaning.
It was impossible from the get-go, but sometimes I wished so hard that our time together and my work as a Phantom Thief wouldn’t intersect. You would call that thinking naïve, no doubt. You would most definitely laugh (though, in private, where no one can hear you) over how much my team was squirming to get out of this bind and how much I was squirming at the thought of you being infatuated with Yusuke or, god forbid, Ann. I wanted you to myself. Though… Knowing that you would definitely squirm speaking onstage to a crowd of students that were either virulently jealous or lustful—or both—of you made it a bit better. What I wouldn’t give to watch you squirm…
Makoto focused her gaze on me. Damn. “What are your thoughts? Should we invite Akechi-kun?”
I wanted to invite you. “Should be fine.” At least, fine in terms of our functioning and goals as Phantom Thieves. I tuned back out. We were so screwed if you didn’t accept the invite. Maybe I could convince Futaba to give me your address, so I’d be able to snoop around. Oh, isn’t that a thought? You’d never keep a journal, but maybe you had embarrassing Featherman merch lying around. Perhaps even a Feather Red body pillow… No, you weren’t the type. Your apartment was probably as sparse as your social life.
“Hold on, how’re we even gonna get in touch with him?” Ryuji fiddled with his jacket hem. That was a sensible point, especially from Ryuji. No, that was mean, he can be sensible. “It’s not like we got his contact info…” I did. Really, I had to forfeit another part of our relationship? I could have said nothing, but I could already see the writing on the wall.
I would have to share. What was next, Ryuji wanting to chill at the onsen as bros? Ugh. Ugh! I hated this. We should have ran away together to the far north of Hokkaido before this Okumura mess.
“Actually, I do.” It killed me to volunteer this. My shitty, dusty attic was filled with people I had come to think of as mine and entirely separate from our personal rivalry. I wanted to keep you separate. I wanted to keep you a secret from everyone, save for the three pairs of eyes omnipresent in Leblanc. They hadn’t said a word yet, and I trusted them not to.
“For real?!”
Makoto cut in, “Could you send that my way, please?” God. God! Couldn’t I invite you myself? Whatever. Let her do it. With unwilling fingers, I dragged my phone out of my pocket and messaged her your number. Well, this was just separating the personal from the professional, though you’d half-conceal a scoff at the assumed legitimacy from calling our Thief work “professional.” I would love to see that, really. I’d love to see you at any time.
As Morgana headed upstairs, leaving me alone, I stood up and left Leblanc. It was still inappropriately sunny out. I had a foreboding feeling that this was the most warmth I was going to feel for a while. Turning my gaze back down, I looked across the way. I doubted my Thieves would have noticed the glimpse of your light brown hair just barely visible in the laundromat while heading home. I noticed, but only because I asked you to stay behind after our meeting. And, of course, because I’d be able to pick you out of even the Shibuya Scramble Crossing.
I made my steps light while crossing to the bathhouse’s little entryway and stopped at the threshold. Here, I didn't alert your senses, and I could stare with a much better view and for much, much longer. You really had some nerve to offer assistance to my Thieves with such a catch yet hardly say a word to me while laying out your deal. If I had half a mind, I would have fisted the lapels of your stupid jacket so tight and shoved you so far into the bar you’d have to arch your back like a bitch in heat if you wanted to not hit your head against mine.
But I did have my head screwed on straight—mostly—and I knew you were suspicious. I wouldn't have taken to you so well if you weren't. Your mystery made you enticing. That look you got in your eyes sometimes, when you were frustrated, the one I could just barely see now, made you all the more attractive. The subtle sharpness in your voice, the nigh invisible furrow of your brow. I couldn't wait to see you in the Metaverse and wielding your Persona. There was no way I could ever be bored in there with you. Your eyes glinted whenever we competed, and I wondered if I would see that again, or see something completely new and wonderful. It was just— Our time was supposed to be just ours, and now I had to share with my Thieves. They couldn’t possibly appreciate you as I do.
“Are you going to keep lurking, or are you actually going to speak with me like you insisted?”
I could never keep from you for long, and you could never be unobservant for long. “You said you wanted coffee earlier. Want to come back inside?”
I loved my friends, seeing them so blinded by this reality really did hurt, but being one of the two truly aware people in Tokyo with you was so very gratifying. For the first time, it was like I had you all to myself in the months since I met you. Your new mask was such a delight, too. At first, I thought it was the true you, but I knew better than to assume you’d show me whatever true self you have if you insisted on framing this as a “deal.” I had to pester you into coming with me to Jazz Jin, but that was okay. As long as I was close by. You looked so tired and grumpy, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I couldn’t take my eyes off your freckles, your cheeks, your eyes, your hair, your lips, your neck, your fully buttoned dress shirt, your green sweater vest, your hands. I could tell you’d stopped using hair spray and concealer, but you still looked so put together.
You asked, “Do you have a staring problem?”
I nodded and smiled, because I did. How could I not stare at you?
“Ugh. Nauseating.” You lifted your drink to your mouth and guided the straw to your lips with your gloved hands. Hm.
“How new are those gloves?”
You blinked. You looked funny, surprised while mid-sip. Though, you swallowed and recovered quickly, “I got this pair back in October. They just…” You flexed your hands, and the brown leather creaked. “They didn’t go with my uniform or what I typically wore on my days off detective work and school. It’s quite unfortunate, they’re higher quality than my couple black pairs, and they cost me a pretty penny. Well, they cost Shido a pretty penny, I suppose.”
“Really? But your black glove is so soft.”
“Mmm. That’s merely a product of frequent use. I had only the one pair for a while, but I purchased another after last New Year’s and started alternating between them.”
I couldn’t remember what you had to say after that. What I did remember is how happy I felt to be the only person in the world you trusted even this slight bit. I’d play in a thousand banal competitions or debate a hundred topics and give it my all just to take in what I saw every time I glanced your way.
I couldn't keep my eyes off you. You looked different, but not. In the dim light of Crossroads and the dark corner booth, it was hard to see the exact details of your skin. I’d have to remedy that at some point. I should get you under a bright bathroom light or a flashlight so I could peer at your every pore. Your hair was just a bit longer and ever so slightly curlier. On our way here, I saw you tuck it behind your left ear three times. Your clothes were much more casual, too. You wore just a dark gray polo, darker jeans, and scuffed-to-shit loafers.
Though.
When I grabbed your shoulder ten minutes ago in the street, you slapped my hand away with worn brown gloves. When I stared you down and led you to this bar, I gripped your hand and creased the material. While I held your hand now, I stroked the top encased in soft leather.
You scowled, gaining a cute wrinkle between your eyebrows. “Are you going to stare at me forever?”
“That's the plan.” I grinned at you. If I had no need for food, water, and rest, you would be the focus of my gaze for days on end.
“That couldn't possibly be why you yanked me in here. I know you to be purposeful, Amamiya.”
Did you seriously think staying away from me for four years would mean I revoked your given-name privileges? “It’s Ren to you, Goro.”
“You don’t get to call me that.” You looked irritated. You had that look in your eye that I loved.
“I caught you, so.”
“Ugh. Fine,” you huffed. Clearly, most of that irritation was a performance. So cute. “What now? Do you have some ultimatum?”
“Not an ultimatum. Stay with me. I have a cushy apartment we can share. I could pay to break your lease, if you wanted.” I wanted to be as close to you as possible as frequently as possible. I couldn't reasonably chain myself to you twenty-four seven, so this seemed like a good compromise.
“That sounds like an ultimatum to me, Ren.”
“An ultimatum requires an ‘or.’ There’s not another option. I guess you could delay if you need more time? But only a few months.”
“You're insane. What if I refused?” You just looked curious, with a little tilt of your head, like a bird.
“You wouldn't. I can cook and clean for us, if you want.” I leaned back into the booth seat and crossed my arms. Even after years apart, I could see the glimmer of trust you began to show in that January.
“Mm. I'll think about it.”
I leaned back in and grasped your hand in both of mine. I could feel my face split into a smile last seen in that February. “Wonderful.”
I awoke to your tossing and turning. The open blinds let me see your pained face. Your brow was furrowed more than normal, and you had a grimace I’d only seen on nights like these and whenever you talk about before. You were so, so silent despite your writhing. I suppose it is November. You would absolutely refuse if I offered comfort, even after two years of living together. So, I gave it without asking.
I wound my arms around your waist heedless of your squirming. You had always said to just let the nightmares pass, that it’d be better for my well-being if I didn’t comfort you over our past. That I shouldn’t be so giving in those specific moments. That your self-punishment and self-loathing should override the fact that I hate seeing you hurt. I’ve never told you, because I’m afraid you’d run or hide, that when I comfort you, soothe you, hold you, take care of you, it feels like I possess a part of you. It hardly feels like giving. I want nothing more than to keep you, to have you all to myself.
You calmed down as soon as I pressed you against me, which brought me nothing short of pure satisfaction. I ran my fingers down the knobs of your spine and then up them. Then down. Up. Down. Up. Down. I really loved holding you like this. You were so, so peaceful. I settled one hand around your nape and the other around your waist.
What I wouldn’t give to keep you forever. But that’s just taking. When I give to take, only my intentions are questionable. I don’t want to only take from you. I could never cage you so permanently and totally. I know how much you want—need—me, and I know you’d never leave for long. I memorize every thought, emotion, and quirk of yours. That must be enough. It should be enough.
I moved my hand to your face to brush your hair aside. Your dreams seemed to be better, now. I wondered what they were. Well, as long as they were pleasant, that would be good. That’s all I ask. I ran my fingers through your hair. You curled closer into me. I’m so lucky to have even just a piece of you. I hope you think of me as your Joker. You will always be my Crow. Even if you run away and disappear. Even if I have to chase you down again.
Especially then.