Chapter Text
Akira’s in hell.
A hell of his own making (as usual), but to his credit, he didn’t think it would be this hard sharing a room with Goro. He hadn’t, of course, anticipated the bed issue.
“Are you sure there isn’t another futon?” he asks Haru as the third day of their vacation dawns.
They’re setting up for breakfast outside; it’s a beautiful morning, so it seemed like the perfect plan.
“I haven’t seen anything, I’m so sorry!” she says, placing the last of the cutlery down, looking truly apologetic. “There must have been an oversight on the listing. Do you want us to discuss room arrangements?”
“No, no,” he says hastily, putting down the first two dishes, and dashing back into the kitchen to collect the others.
If he’s honest, the bed issue isn’t actually the problem. The problem is that it could have been ripped from one of his more indulgent imaginings last year, except it’s an actual bed rather than precariously balanced crates.
His crush on Goro is embarrassingly out of hand in this scenario, and he’s not sure he can last a week.
When he emerges from the kitchen, Haru is still looking at him warily. “Are you positive it’s not an issue?”
“Yeah. Really,” he adds.
Haru looks at him for a moment, then nods, going back to setting the table. “May I help with the coffee?”
He’s thankful for the change in subject and for the distraction in supervising her coffee preparation. Unfortunately, though, she’s now well-versed enough to need very few pointers, and Akira can make coffee in his sleep. So his mind is free to wander.
The change in his feelings happened gradually. He’s always been somewhat drawn to Goro, but initially, he can’t say it was attraction, other than the obvious fact he’s extremely pretty. What had been intriguing, was the farcical personality, so syrupy sweet Akira found himself sticking to it, eager to find out the whys and the hows of the real Goro Akechi.
Finding out his exact goals had been even more enticing. Akira’s always had a thirst for danger.
However, the aftermath had been what transformed everything. Surviving Maruki’s reality, choosing to live as they are now, and not knowing what happened to Goro plagued him for months. Until one phone call, out of the blue, put everything to right.
In the months after, they’ve both grown. Akira returned to Tokyo to finish high school at Shujin after a summer with his parents, meaning they were both around at the same time. Changes happened on both sides, and they’re closer now than they were as rivals.
Well. If their weekly darts competitions are to be believed, they never stopped being rivals. And it’s those small, private moments that have culminated into a whole where Akira thinks he’s falling in love with Goro.
He’s always been slow to attach. Akira’s parents are…distant, he’s starting to realise. Not big on affection, not big on conversation, quiet and withdrawn in a somewhat stilted way. Confronting his own feelings, whether the anger he’d first acknowledged when he awoke to Arsene, or the warmth that circulates when Goro tips his head back and cackles freely, has been a slow process.
But now it’s started, it’s not something he can ignore.
As if summoned by the smell of food, his friends start emerging. Futaba stumbles sleepily to the kitchen counter, groaning. “It’s too early.”
Akira smiles, so used to this behaviour, while Ann and Sumire follow looking far more fresh-faced. Ryuji’s call sounds from the front door, having just come in from a run.
“Go shower before you come in here!” Ann yells back, just as Yusuke appears from the garden, much to Akira’s surprise.
“Didn’t see you out there,” he comments as Yusuke slips into the seat next to Futaba. She sits up immediately, looking slightly startled. Interesting.
“I have been sitting under the pear tree, I didn’t want to disturb you,” he says.
There really isn’t much room under that tree, so Akira’s not sure what contortions he managed to get into so neither he nor Haru saw him, but the sketch Yusuke shows them is already beautiful, capturing the morning sun on the fruits.
Akira’s about to comment as such when Goro walks into the kitchen, setting all other thoughts aside. There’s nothing special about his arrival; he looks decently rested, dressed in casual clothing that would have once been a novelty but is now the normal fare. And yet, Akira’s drawn to stare, only for a moment, as if he’d walked into the room surrounded by neon lights.
Maybe it's the ponytail. Goro’s hair is longer at the back, a style Ann begged him to try for months before he succumbed to having the front cut while the back remains long. The ponytail started recently, and it’s a good look. Really good.
He can’t focus too much on that now, instead drawing a bowl of fruit closer and crossing the room to the sink.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Morgana hops onto the counter as he starts up the tap, washing each piece carefully. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You tell me,” Morgana presses, not letting the matter drop.
He sighs, shaking his head. Morgana gives him the space to think it through as he washes the fruit carefully.
“I’m overthinking things.”
“Things about Akechi? You really should just say something.”
Akira gives his friend a withering look. It should be odd his talking (not) cat was the first person to find out about his crush, but it’s always been easy to talk to Morgana about things. He believes Ann and Futaba have some inkling, but he’s always steered clear of having a full conversation about it.
“Not a good idea,” he says.
It’s not the first time they’ve discussed this. Akira’s slow realisation means he’s now at a sicking point: wait for the feelings to pass or act on them. He’s not usually one to hesitate, going with his gut and leaving caution to the wind. But this time, his intuition has been no help at all, flip-flopping between thinking there is a connection between them and being certain it’s all one-sided.
One thing is for certain: confessing on a group trip when they’re sharing a bed isn’t a good plan. Better to do it on neutral ground, back in Tokyo where they both have an out. Maybe that’s cowardly, but in reality, it’s just sensible.
Besides, even if his conclusion is to say something, Akira’s not sure this summer is the right time. Their friendship took time to reach this point, and in a few months, they’ll both be heading off to different universities. Both of them are staying near Tokyo, they’ll not be far away, but it still doesn’t feel like the right time to start something new.
But then again, is there ever really a right time?
“May I help?”
Akira doesn’t visibly start, but his heart jangles uncomfortably as Goro approaches. He manages a smile though and a shake of his head. “I got this. If you could help carry plates outside though, that would be great.”
Goro nods in return, leaving without another word, unaware of the way that Akira’s mind lingers on him while he’s gone.
“Are you sure?” Morgana says in a flat tone with obvious intent. Akira glares at him, thankful that Futaba bounces over, asking Morgana how he slept on the extremely plush couch. He decided on the first night it was far better than sharing with anyone, and Akira’s almost jealous.
Almost. But not quite.
For as much as he loathes the situation for his own uncontrollable feelings, he wouldn’t swap waking up next to Goro for the world. Seeing him rumpled in the early hours, or relaxing late at night, is not something Akira realised would affect him as much as it does. It’s an intimate thing, to be able to see someone without the masks they wear during the day, especially for someone as guarded as Goro.
The first two nights he slept soundly; sleeping is always hit or miss for him, some nights good and some bad. The contentedness when he woke up though, can only be explained by the presence of Goro beside him, a new feeling he’s never experienced before.
Last night, Goro had fallen asleep incredibly fast, which Akira knows because of a new discovery: Goro snores. It’s a wheezing, breathy sound, nothing that is too disturbing, unlike Yusuke’s snores. But Akira had been so distracted by the sound, by the fact that he knows Goro Akechi snores and it’s adorable, it had taken him hours to sleep.
He pushes the thoughts aside though, preparing the last of the fruit and bringing it outside to finish the breakfast.
“Akira this is amazing,” Makoto says as the group sits down.
“Yeah man,” Ryuji cheers, now freshly showered. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to,” he says, gesturing for the group to begin.
There are few things Akira gains more satisfaction from than seeing people thoroughly enjoy his food. Spending time and effort on people he cares about fills him with a joy he can’t fully explain; again something he’s learned from the friends he made in Tokyo. He didn’t cook before he moved, his parents both working and barely home enough to show him the ropes.
It’s not all completely altruistic. He gains his own personal satisfaction from a job well done, as well as honing his skills and learning something new. It’s amazing how, given the opportunity, he thrives in bringing together the bare essential ingredients to make a whole and entirely new dish. Not quite creating something from nothing, but close enough.
If he’s honest, before Tokyo, he didn’t have a passion for anything. Found himself good enough at studying, joined a few clubs to pass the time, and cruised along in the mediocre. It was only after being thrust into the spotlight so negatively that he found himself trying new things with gusto: whether that’s cooking, gymnastics, or mixing drinks at Crossroads.
Learning from others has been a beacon of hope to Akira, and he’s not great at saying so. Therefore, cooking for all these people who helped him through the worst of times is his way of expressing that.
And watching Goro reach for seconds, piling his plate without a thought, still engaged in what is becoming a heated debate with Makoto, warms him more than anything. He suddenly has visions of making Goro breakfast more regularly, in the more intimate setting of breakfast in bed, which unfortunately due to their current predicament, he can now picture perfectly.
Akira stands, possibly more dramatically than necessary by the way several of his friends pause, but it banishes the image well. “I’ll make more coffee, anyone want one?”
Makoto, Goro, and Ann accept, so by the time he’s returned with a tray of drinks, the conversation has moved to a more practical discussion of plans for the day.
“Urg, we already did the beach, why do you wanna go again?” Futaba moans as he sits back down.
“It’s a different beach!” Ann protests. “Plus, these guys wanna try surfing, and the weather is perfect.”
Akira’s surprised when she gestures to Sumire and Goro. Neither are the type he expected to be into it, although Ryuji’s enthusiasm is expected.
“There is a town nearby, I would be happy to do something else with you, Futaba,” Haru chimes in.
Akira sips his coffee while the group decides what they want to do. Yusuke isn’t interested in surfing, while Makoto admits she’d like to try it. Morgana claims he’s done with getting sand stuck in his fur, hopping over to Haru, who beams at him.
He’s unsure where he stands. On the one hand, surfing sounds fun, but he’s also a little bored of the beach routine. Plus, another day of Goro shirtless…
“I’ll go to the town,” he announces before his mind can run amok.
It does anyway when he imagines slight disappointment in Goro’s expression, but it’s quickly wiped away as they start discussing transport, Goro adamant he will be driving. Akira sits back, enjoying the banter as Ryuji complains about being stuck in a car with him again. Goro’s the best driver out of all of them, much to everyone’s surprise. But then again, considering how Haru drives, it’s apparently not something personality can predict.
Akira tries not to think about the fact he’s failed his test twice already.
The group insists they share the washing up, not letting Akira help at all, so he goes upstairs to get ready for the day. He didn’t have time to shower before getting up and making breakfast, so takes the time now, reveling in having such a large space to himself. He loves the bathhouse, but the luxury of having a private space to shower isn’t lost on him.
By the time he’s dressed and attempting to tame his hair, Goro returns, collecting his swimwear and towel into a bag. He turns to Akira suddenly, throwing an object in his direction without warning. Akira catches it on reflex, grinning triumphantly as he does.
Goro rolls his eyes at the prideful look. “Put on sun-cream, you’re lucky you didn’t burn yesterday.”
“Yessir,” Akira says with a laugh, opening the bottle and pretending it doesn’t send a spike of giddiness through him at the notion of Goro caring for his wellbeing. Which is ridiculous, they’re friends, of course, Goro cares. And he noticed that Akira’s shoulders were somewhat pink yesterday, having neglected sun-cream…
It’s just sun-cream, he reminds himself. Any of his friends would do the same.
He applies it liberally, then goes to throw it back, only for Goro to shake his head. “Reapply it in a few hours, I have another bottle.”
Because of course, he does. “Thanks. I will.”
“Make sure you do. I’m surprised you’re not interested in surfing.”
“I am,” Akira admits, “but a change of pace sounded good.”
“It has been rather more beach than I expected. Well, update me on what you find there. There’s an ice cream parlor that’s meant to be exquisite,” Goro adds.
“We won’t go without you then,” Akira says.
Goro blinks, then snorts with laughter, shaking his head. Akira can’t tell what’s funny, but Futaba’s shout to the group echoing through the house has them focusing on finishing up and meeting the group downstairs.
Akira somehow ends up in Makoto’s car along with Haru, Sumire, and Yusuke. He honestly can’t remember how, swept up in the moment, only coming back to reality once he’s seated in the back of the car.
“Ah, what a stunning morning. I hope to find much inspiration today,” Yusuke muses as Makoto leads the two-car convoy onto the highway.
“The town has a small art museum,” Haru says from the front seat, turning around, “it’s run by local artists, we could go there first?”
Yusuke’s face lights up. “A superb suggestion! As long as you’re all happy with that.”
Akira nods; it sounds interesting. And even if it turns out to be full of weird things none of them understand, it will make a good story.
“That does sound fun, please take lots of photos!” Sumire says, clasping her hands together.
“You too,” he says, mostly on reflex.
“Oh, I will,” she says, her voice changing into something that sounds like teasing, a smirk on her face that looks so much like Futaba’s that a shudder rolls down his spine.
From the front, both Makoto and Haru laugh, a suspicious action. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, Akira. We’ll take photos, we promise,” Makoto says soothingly.
Even more suspicious. But Yusuke chooses that moment to ask about a passing landmark, sparking off a new conversation. Akira decides it’s not worth thinking about; his friends are usually good at revealing their hands in time.
They park in the same area, within walking distance to both the beach and the main town square. Their goodbyes are swift, with a time and place to meet later that Akira zones out on. They have phones for a reason, after all.
He’s a little distracted thinking of Goro surfing. Perhaps he has made the wrong choice. But there’s nothing for it now, so he waves to the group before turning away with Haru, Yusuke, and Futaba toward the town.
“It’s already soo hot,” Futaba moans from under a comically large sunhat, “I wish I was Mona. Haru put a cooler in her bag, it’s so not fair.”
Haru laughs from slightly ahead, keeping pace with Yusuke who is practically vibrating with excitement. Akira smiles, taking note of the shops and small cafes they pass, as they’ll need a few different activities before they meet with the others.
The art museum turns out to be just as weird as he’d wondered about; the guest artist of the month has created a tunnel trail through the small building, different noises echoing around them as they walk. It does well enough to hide Morgana’s meowing questions as they wander through, but that’s all Akira gains from it. Futaba manages to get lost at one point, but they all make it through to the inevitable gift shop in an hour.
“That was…special,” Haru says diplomatically.
“The artist’s intention came across well,” Yusuke says, “not my favourite medium though.”
Futaba slides up next to him. “What was the intention?” she whispers.
“I’m not the one to ask,” he says, before joining Yusuke in looking through the gift ship.
This has more things he recognises, keychains and postcards catching his eye. All are locally made and with interesting designs, but Akira finds himself stopping by a collection of stoneware mugs.
He doesn’t need any mugs, he already has enough to fill the small dorm room he’ll be living in after the summer. But it’s not him he’s looking for; last week, Goro had complained about breaking yet another of his mugs (a constant issue, he’s so uncoordinated in the morning). This one has a light grey finish that descends into a darker colour, just a touch off black. It’s unusual, and when Akira picks it up, it's sturdy enough it might survive its inevitable collision with Goro’s floor.
That’s settled then. He takes it to the register, grabbing a pack of sweets by the counter to add to his purchase. It’s placed in a gift bag, which is easy for passing onto Goro when they get back later.
He doesn’t think much of it, as the others are all clutching their own gift bags when they meet outside.
“Let’s go to a cafe, I wanna get out,” Morgana says, and they head back into the town centre, hunting for a cafe that looks as if it won’t mind a cat.
They’re in luck; Morgana gets spotted by the cafe owner as they look at the menu outside, who immediately fusses over him. They end up on a round table near the back, a tray of milk set aside for Morgana before the rest of them even order.
“What did you buy from the gift shop? They had these lovely earrings, I couldn’t resist,” Haru says, showing them a pair of drop stone earrings with an opalescent sheen.
Futaba coos over them, before showing off two pairs of socks with neon patterns related to an obscure game, gushing over how random it was to find them. Yusuke has bought several prints and a set of fancy paints. Akira dreads to think how much they cost.
“What about you?”
At Yusuke’s ask, Akira bends over and pulls out the sweets. “Couldn’t resist. And just a mug for Goro.”
Silence falls across his friends for half a second, before as one, they all turn to look at one another. “For Goro, huh?” Futaba says, a grin spreading across her face.
Akira shifts, a little too warm all of a sudden. “He keeps breaking his.”
“Gift-giving has always been a wonderful love language. Poetic,” Yusuke says.
Akira splutters, heat spreading upwards, a high-pitched note of panic ringing in his ears. Thankfully their drinks arrive, his iced coffee cooling off his head. Morgana also gets a plate of chicken, so for once doesn’t chime in with comments on Akira’s love life.
“It’s very sweet of you to think of him,” Haru says once they’ve had a few moments to themselves.
“Mug as a confession is unique,” Futaba says, still grinning.
“It’s not-urg,” Akira says, feeling exposed and tired at the same time.
So he’s not been subtle. Great. Everyone at this table knows, which means all of his friends know. He’s not sure he likes this realisation; it’s embarrassing being so obvious on feelings that he’s been so deliberately measured with.
Haru reaches across the table, clasping his hand. “I’m sorry, we’re being too much. It’s a lovely gift. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
Futaba nods, turning quickly to Yusuke and asking him what the hell the exhibition was about today. Akira relaxes, thankful for the deliberate change of topic, although now he feels as if he might have taken things a step too far with the gift. But it’s only a coffee mug.
Maybe a mug is not actually a mug in this case.
They pass the rest of the day by dipping into various cafes and seeing a few of the local landmarks. It’s great to be a summer tourist without the added pressure of the Metaverse on his back, but in some ways, Akira does miss that too. Always will miss being Joker, but equally, that brought stress and difficulties with it that he’s glad to have put behind him.
Or at least, as much as he can. He definitely doesn’t have free rein to do whatever he wants and thinks a few colleges rejected him for a record he shouldn’t still have. But for now, he’s able to move forward. It isn’t fair, but it’s not a fight he has the energy for at the moment.
He’s unsurprised their group is the first to arrive at the ice cream parlor. It’s huge, and they quickly grab a big enough table, the menu so large Akira’s at a loss of where to start.
“Everything looks so good-oh, there they are!” Futaba yells, jumping up and waving.
The usual chaos of too many voices and too much excitement descends as they reunite. It’s a good sound though, one Akira’s missed while they’ve all been in different locations for the past year. The beach group all look various levels of wet and windswept but seem to have had a good time.
Once again, when the group has settled, Akira’s sitting next to Goro. And after this morning, he’s certain it’s intentional. He pushes the swirling in his gut aside though, turning to smile at Goro.
“How was surfing?”
Goro pushes back his hair, frowning as his hand snags a tangle, but the motion steals Akira’s breath anyway. In the past few days, a starburst of freckles has appeared across the bridge of Goro’s nose. Akira’s strangely obsessed, wondering if he’s developed freckles anywhere else.
“Fun,” Goro says, showing all his teeth in glee, making Akira shiver. “The waves were relentless, it took us a little time to get our bearings, but a successful day.”
“Goro was soo good at it. Everyone was, but he was standing first,” Ann says from opposite, fumbling with her phone as the speaks. “Sumire told me to take photos, I have loads!”
Akira’s then subjected to at least ten minutes of a slide show of shirtless Goro surfing. Ann’s phone has exceptional camera capabilities, as she’s managed to get good close-ups of Goro’s expressions: concentration, triumph, and elation as he learns how to surf.
His own emotions soar with the images, and Goro steps in to narrate what’s occurring at each moment. Akira nods, thoroughly enjoying each story, and the way Goro can’t stop describing all the details to him. He could listen to that enthusiasm forever.
“May I take your order?”
Akira is startled out of his revere when the server arrives, realising he hasn’t decided what he wants. He hastily grabs a menu, not missing Ann’s wink as he does, scanning quickly through the options. He orders a sundae, opting for a safe dessert.
“What did you guys do? Did you go to the museum?” Sumire asks.
“Ah, yes! You missed quite the display,” Yusuke says, before launching into a description of the exhibit, one which makes Akira think they went to two separate places.
“What was it actually like?”
Akira isn’t able to stave off the shudder as Goro whispers in his ear, the caress of his breath making each hair on the back of Akira’s neck charge up with static. He swallows, hoping it was a least a small enough tell to go unnoticed.
He turns to Goro, finding his mouth tipping into a smile when he sees the spark of amusement in Goro’s expression. “It was a bunch of noisy tunnels. Futaba got lost.”
Goro makes a snorting sound that Akira knows is him stifling a full-on cackle, one Akira’s sad to miss. He always enjoys it when Goro truly lets himself laugh.
“I am going to have nightmares about never finding my way out,” Futaba mutters from across the table, as Goro’s shoulders start to shake.
It’s nice hearing about everyone’s day. Ryuji talks with a similar enthusiasm to Goro about surfing and goes bright red when Sumire tells him how inspiring his progress was. Haru shows photos of the town, and Morgana professes his love for the cafe owner.
Their desserts are extravagant, to say the least. Akira’s never seen a sundae this huge, with sparklers placed precariously amongst the ice cream, sprinkles, and cutely shaped marshmallows. Ann and Goro have crepes pilled high with too many toppings to count, and Makoto has what has to be half a cheesecake.
Somehow they manage to eat nearly everything though, passing each dish around so everyone can try. Akira struggles through the last of his ice cream, spoon held in his mouth until it starts to warm as he takes the final bites.
He feels the tickle of a gaze, turning just in time to see Goro sharply twist his head away. Akira frowns, taking the spoon out of his mouth. He’s not sure what just happened. Goro’s already started a conversation with Ann though, and he’s not about to interrupt, so offers the last few mouthfuls to Yusuke, who is happy to finish it.
“I’m not sure we’ll need dinner after that,” Makoto groans as they make their way to the cars.
“We’ve got loads of snacks back at the house. I can make small things,” Akira says.
Once they get back, everyone decides to take time for themselves, which gives Akira the perfect opportunity to pass over his gift. Goro takes a shower, and Akira plays a game on his phone, until he comes back, hair towel dried and hanging loose.
It steals Akira’s breath for a second until Goro gives him a strange look. “Why are you just sitting there?”
“Wanted some quiet before the evening,” he says hastily, which isn’t a lie. But he moves on fast. “Here, I picked this up for you today.”
He holds out the bag, as Goro frowns, eyes darting between Akira and the gift. After a moment, he steps forward, taking it carefully.
Akira has to wonder if Goro’s received many gifts. With the way he handles it now, half caution, half incredulity, Akira’s sure the answer is no. It makes his heart drop; he and his friends are always giving small trinkets that remind them of each other. But then again, that’s something new to him too. He vows, as Goro carefully opens the bag and pulls out the mug, to make sure he does this more often.
On seeing it, Goros’ expression turns amused. “You know how cursed I am with mugs.”
Akira laughs. “I do, but I’m worried you’ll be drinking coffee out of bowls soon.”
He gets a glare for that comment, but a smile soon replaces it.
“Thank you, Akira,” Goro says, and that makes every second of teasing by his friends worth it. Most things are that make Goro smile.
The evening wanes on, and the group comes together again naturally. They watch a movie and then play games, switching between board games, card games, and video games. Everyone swaps in and out, a casual way to end the day.
One by one, they all start going to bed. Akira, Ryuji, and Ann are halfway through an old racing game when Goro bids his goodnights. Akira calls his in return, glad at least the game is a distraction so he can’t just follow him straight up. The urge to go to bed at the same time is strong, so it’s probably for the best he stays up a bit.
“I’m beat,” Ryuji says, almost an hour later when the three of them are the only ones still awake.
“You are after that last run,” Ann says, elbowing him sharply with a grin.
Akira watches them both banter, smiling for a moment before turning off the TV and console. “Bedtime for everyone.”
“Yup,” Ann says, stretching and jumping to her feet. “Sleep well, Akira.”
She winks and marches off, giving a fist-bump to Ryuji as she passes. Akira narrows his eyes at his friend, who sighs. “Sorry, man. One of you should fess up soon though.”
“Says you,” Akira replies, delighted when Ryuji turns red for the second time that day.
They both leave it as a truce, saying goodnight at the top of the stairs. Akira goes to the bathroom first, the tiredness hitting as he does. It’s later than he thought, and all he wants to do is curl up next to Goro-
Curl up in bed, he reminds himself as he closes the bathroom door and tip-toes to the bedroom. He opens the door quietly, greeted with the same snores he’d discovered last night. Akira smiles to himself as he walks to his side of the bed to grab his sleeping clothes; Goro is curled up on his side, facing away, completely out cold. Which is a good thing, as he doesn’t need the temptation to stare at him before sleep.
Carefully, Akira pulls back the sheets and slips into bed. He can feel the exhaustion settling in like a weighted blanket, pulling him under before he’s had any chance to fight it. Goro’s snores are almost melodic now, soft and predictable after last night, so it’s easy to give in and surrender to slumber.
Akira knows he’s dreaming. It has that unreal quality as if he’s floating near the surface, but unable to drag himself up.
It’s silent, the quiet pressing in with a blinding dark that feels threatening as it obscures his understanding. He’s walking, wending his way through an endless, twisting world that undulates nauseatingly. Every so often, flashes of scarlet and azure blind and disorientate him as he attempts to carry on. To what end, he doesn’t know, but there’s a pressure against his back pushing him forward. He doesn’t dare turn to see what lies behind him.
The path before him seems without end, the flashes increasing until he is forced to hurry forward. But all that happens is the space caves in, crushing him down and down until he’s on his knees, reaching for an awning, gaping opening so red it feels like fire against his skin, ready to swallow him whole-
He wakes with a gasp, body jerking sidewise in the gloom. It takes him a second to realise he’s out of the dream world, and a second longer to remember why he’s not at home.
“Akira?”
Goro’s voice makes him wince. He slowly turns over, just as Goro reaches for the lamp next to him, a mellow light illuminating the concern on his face. It would be touching if Akira wasn’t frozen with mortification and guilt.
“Nightmare. Sorry I woke you,” he manages.
Goro scrutinizes him for a moment before sitting up fully, stretching his neck.
“I think tea is in order,” he states. It’s not a request, but at the same time is, one he could refuse. However, he finds himself getting out of bed and quietly following Goro downstairs.
“Sit,” Goro says, pointing to the sofa, and Akira does with a fond smile. Goro busies himself with boiling the water and adding some of Haru’s camomile blend into two cups.
A comfortable silence falls between them as Goro hands over the steaming mug. Akira nods in thanks, not wanting to break the quiet; it’s soothing, being with someone but not having to talk after the nightmare. Goro takes a seat next to him, his own mug clasped in his hands. Akira’s mood instantly brightens when he notes it’s the mug he gave Goro a few hours ago.
The warmth and calming nature of the tea help too; Goro doesn’t try and start a conversation, a rarity and one Akira knows goes against his nature. He appreciates the restraint though, allowing himself to get through half the mug before he feels able to talk again.
“Thanks for this,” Akira says, lifting the mug. “You didn’t have to.”
“As if I’d sleep soundly when you were clearly in distress. And I’m no stranger to nightmares.”
“You too, huh?” Akira says, offering a sarcastic smile, one that’s mirrored.
The air feels warmer, but lighter, shrugging off the remaining chill from the nightmare. Goro places his cup down on the table before them. “I can...listen if it’s helpful to talk about it.”
“It’s not,” Akira says quickly, and Goro’s shoulders drop in relief. Akira finds himself continuing. “They don’t make much sense. Just feelings.”
“Ah,” Goro says. “I envy you. Mine are surprisingly vivid.”
Akira grimaces. “I don’t think either is good. Much rather not have them.”
“After the things we’ve experienced, I suppose it’s inevitable,” Goro scoffs, looking towards his mug before him.
Another quiet calm falls between them. Akira’s oddly awake; he’d been so tired, and barely two hours have passed since he fell into bed. He shifts, realising afterward he's now closer to Goro, elbows almost touching.
The urge to speak wells up; not something he’s accustomed to, but the moment feels charged with significance, so much so Akira can’t stay quiet.
“Thanks for coming on this trip,” he blurts out, hoping it sounds more natural than it feels. “It’s good having you here this time.”
Goro’s smile is small and so pretty. “I am thankful you invited me. It’s been…good. Better than I expected. I’m sure Sumire thinks the same.”
“I meant you though. Just you.”
Akira thinks he’s going to be sick the moment he says it. He doesn’t know what possessed him; all his daytime bravado and conclusions are brushed away by the haziness of the night. Goro’s staring at him, eyebrows rising towards his bed-tousled hair, and Akira wants to throw himself right back into the freaky corridor in his mind just to escape.
“Why exactly are you so fixated on me coming on this trip?” Goro says, turning his body to fully face Akira.
There’s a few things he can do here. Come up with an elaborate distraction, twisting his words until they change direction, but that’s more Goro’s specialty than his. Shrug it off, or blame it on the lack of sleep. Give him a half-truth, believable enough to stop things without showing his whole hand.
Or, he could say what’s in his heart. Maybe it’s time for that. Maybe there never is a time for that, so now is closer than never.
Akira swallows the last mouthful of his tea, before placing the cup down and turning too. They are closer now, Goro’s eyes aflame with curiosity. Akira’s hands start to shake. So he grips his knees to prevent it. “You’re important to me. I always want you around.”
It aches to say it, as it always hurts to put himself on the line. Goro’s mouth opens slightly, a shocked response but one curbed swiftly, for after blinking, he tilts forward, just a small amount, studying Akira. “Always? That’s quite an ask.”
Akira’s throat is dry, and he once again feels exposed. But it’s the good kind now, the spotlight on him as he runs across a casino ceiling, but this time, the stakes are so much higher.
“Yeah, it is,” he says, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “But that’s what I’d like.”
“Is that so?” Goro breathes, his voice a little higher than normal, his skin flushed and not from the summer heat.
And Akira is a fool. Such a fool, for not believing his friends, his own heart. But he has time to make up for it.
“Do you want me to keep repeating it?” he says, grinning.
“Yes,” Goro says firmly and Akira starts laughing because of course that’s the answer.
The laughter doesn’t last long though as before he can blink Goro closes the distance and kisses him.
It’s… awkward. Akira’s mid-laugh and his mouth is half closed, half open so his teeth catch in a bad way. Goro makes an unamused noise, slightly frustrated, either at himself or Akira, there’s no telling.
But the great thing about kisses is once you’ve started, it’s so easy to keep going.
So that’s what they do. Untangle and rearrange until their rhythm is just perfect, Akira’s hand on Goro’s cheek, while Goro’s own is in his hair. He’s scraping at the scalp in the most delicious way, sending shivers across Akira’s skin with each hint of nails. Goro’s skin is smooth and his mouth hot, the contented sounds he makes so deliciously addictive.
When they stop, it’s easier for Akira to lean against Goro’s side, the two of them intertwining and resting against the back of the couch.
“Well. this isn’t what I intended.”
“No?” Akira says.
Goro rolls his eyes. “Not when I offered tea, you idiot. I…wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to tell you of my feelings.”
“Same here,” Akira says, squeezing Goro’s hand.
Goro squeezes back. It’s comforting to know they were in a similar situation. “But I’m glad it happened.”
A hum is Akira’s reply, a contented yet thoughtful one. He waits, knowing Goro is considering the next part carefully.
“I had thought we’d be better as friends. Which is why I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s been difficult.”
“I’m that charming?” Akira says, and Goro attempts to shrug him off.
He laughs, but ponders on the words, so similar to his own thoughts. Transitioning to something different will take work; although he’s sure of his own feelings, he knows it will be odd too. And take time, but Akira’s willing to do his best for them, no matter what challenges lay ahead.
“Hardly. But we have a history, that can’t be denied.”
“We do,” Akira says. “And I guess that’s going to come up more as things change. We will have to deal with that, but I think we can. If you want to.”
He’s nervous, putting the element of doubt into words. It’s a necessary evil as so far, nothing he’s really been confirmed. Akira’s heart lifts though when Goro kisses his hair, the pressure just about felt through his curls.
“I do want to. We do need to be aware that this won’t be easy, so I’m saying this all now. We’ll be starting university soon. Time won’t be in our favour,” Goro states
“When has anything ever been in our favour? But here we are,” Akira says, tipping his head to look at Goro, the rush of the unreal becoming real surging through his veins.
Goro snorts. “That is true. We’ve been set up by gods and your mad therapist, a relationship shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“A relationship. You wanna date me, Goro Akechi?” Akira says, sitting up and smiling so widely his cheeks hurt.
“I may change my mind if you carry on like that,” Goro says, but leans in once more, his own anthesis.
Akira can’t say that he minds at all.
When Akira wakes up the next morning, he’s being shoved away.
“Goro?” he questions, last night still fresh in his mind. He definitely didn’t dream that. He cracks open his eyes to see Goro sitting on the edge of the bed, grimacing.
“Why,” his new boyfriend says, “are you so damn warm?”
Akira yawns, sitting up. “You’ll thank me in the winter.”
They argue about that point all the way downstairs, hands clasped as if they can’t afford to let go. And maybe Akira can’t; it’s so new and impossible he wants to keep it for as long as he can, for as long as the world will let him.
Everyone else is already downstairs, and the second they walk into the kitchen, a round of cheers follows them. Goro scrunches up his nose as Akira laughs, rolling his eyes at their antics.
“Nice one man! Hey, hiding the futon worked,” Ryuji yells, turning to Ann.
“Ryuji!” she hisses, as Makoto drops her face in her hands, Sumire winces, and Haru covers her mouth with her hand, the laugh unmistakable.
Goro’s grip on his hand turns vice-like. “Excuse me?” he says, all detective prince sweetness.
Well. That explains even more things. But as Ryuji starts stumbling through excuses and Futaba joins Haru in laughing, Akira can’t find it in himself to mind. Maybe they needed the push to get talking.
Besides, he’s sure he’ll get them all back eventually. He’s a patient guy, after all.