Foot in the Door

by bellytos

Summary:

Akira Kurusu is a fool. It's a fact that Goro knows to be true, because only a fool would care about Goro when no one else has ever loved or wanted him in his life. Only a fool would befriend someone as spiteful and malicious as Goro. So stupid and oblivious.
If he was going to recklessly carve out a place for himself in Goro's heart, then he should've been prepared to face the consequences.

Alternatively: Goro Akechi and Akira Kurusu grow up in the same foster home. Akira befriends Goro and pays the price.

Notes:

Please mind the tags <3

“What does it look like when an angel falls?”

Do they hit the ground with a crash? Do they descend slowly with what remains of their wings? Or, is it more like they’re in heaven one moment and then in hell the next?

So many stories involving fallen angels- and not one of them describes the actual journey down. What kind of religious text fails to mention such important descriptive details? How is anyone supposed to put their faith in something so vague? This is why Goro doesn’t believe in any particular god or religion.

Goro’s mother blinks, then considers his question with a small hum. She sets down the ladle she was using to stir the miso soup on the stove and turns to look at him. “I don’t think it looks like much of anything. It’s metaphorical.”

“Metaphorical?” Goro asks, careful not to stumble over the word. His vocabulary is broader than that of other children his age, but he’s still not even a decade old.

“When something is metaphorical, that means it stands for another thing,” his mother explains slowly with a tired smile. “So, in this case, an angel falling could stand for someone who loses their happiness after doing something bad.”

Goro watches his mother absentmindedly rub at one of the many small purple bruises on her neck, and wonders if they have anything to do with the topic at hand. He decides not to ask. His mother always looks extra tired when she tells him bible stories. He doesn’t even understand why she does it. As far as he knows, she doesn’t believe in them either. And whenever she talks about sin she looks stressed, and hunches her shoulders like the kids in Goro’s school do when they know they’ve done something wrong.

“So, an angel falling looks like someone doing something bad?”

Goro’s mother laughs softly and turns the stove to a simmer, stirring the pot once more. “Something like that. But a fallen angel could also be a metaphor for something else.”

“Like what?”

“That’s up to you to decide, my love. A fallen angel can mean whatever you think it should mean. But when I think of a fallen angel, I think of someone who gives in to the temptation of hurting others.” Goro sees his mother’s bitter smile, and looks down. He believes his mother, because his mother is kind and gentle, not so far from the angels she speaks of. Not like Goro who, unbeknownst to his mother, experiences vindictive pleasure every time he hurts someone who deserves it. If Goro is pushed, he’ll push back ten times harder. And of course, he never gets caught.

Or, maybe his mother actually does know about this nature of his. Maybe that’s why she tells him bible stories. 

If Goro keeps listening to her, then perhaps he’ll learn how not to hurt others- how to curb that urge to strike back when angered. After all, his mother never hurts anyone.

 

Not long after that conversation, Goro learns two things. The first is that someone who refrains from ever hurting others only does so by hurting themselves instead.

The second thing he learns is what it looks like when an angel falls: like a red carpet and a limp body.

It isn’t until a few years later that Goro meets another angel. Although, he didn't recognize it for what it was at the time. And who could blame him? This angel didn’t look much like an angel at all.

This angel was cute enough, but not particularly noteworthy (not as far as Goro knew at the time, anyway).

Goro meets him for the first time in one of those big foster homes with over a dozen kids and only two parents. The kind where the parents try their best, but just end up taking in too many kids to actually pay attention to or get attached to any of them. Even here, Goro is undesirable. But a few years is a lot of time to adapt to new conditions, and Goro is used to it by now. So he doesn’t flinch when his foster parents introduce a new foster brother, the same age as himself. He does, however, wonder if the new arrival will be as troublesome as the last. Showing new children where they stand (beneath him) is always an inconvenience as much as it is a pleasure. And while Goro does love showing others exactly how untouchable he is, he won’t put in the effort if it’s not necessary.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” his foster mother prompts the newbie, who’s fiddling with a lock of his hair with one hand and munching on a sucker with the other.

“Akira Kurusu,” says the new kid, and he doesn’t say much of anything else.

The only thing that strikes Goro as unusual about him is his face. Not his physical appearance per say (though he is rather pretty now that Goro thinks about it), but his expression. Or, lack thereof. For a child who’s being forced into a new and uncomfortable environment, he seems awfully composed. Most new arrivals seem afraid or upset, looking like they want nothing more than to bolt out the door. It’s true that some show up with blank faces and dead eyes, but Kurusu isn’t like that. Those children lock all of their emotions inside themselves as a defense mechanism. This kid just seems… genuinely calm?

But, well, it’s not like it’s any of Goro’s business. If this boy is at peace in a foster home, then good for him. Goro doesn’t care.

Not for a few months, anyway.

Goro has always been athletically inclined, but at the end of the day, he’s still just a thirteen-year-old. Fighting can only get him so far. So when Goro puts someone in their place, he does so through lies and fake tears. He either tricks adults into doing it for him, or he does so himself only when he knows his involvement can’t be proven. But the thing about kids is that most of them don’t think too deeply about consequences. So even if his foster siblings know that any wrongs committed against Goro will result in a brutal retaliation, that doesn’t always stop them from stepping out of line. As such, times like these are inevitable.

Goro can only shield his head with his arms as he receives each blow, the roots of a tree scratching against his skin with each impact. 

His foster brother is already in high school, and much larger than Goro himself is. Goro hadn’t bothered putting up a fight. Retribution will be all the easier if Goro looks like he’s the only victim. Which- he is, now that he thinks about it.

Sure, maybe Goro had made a stray comment about how maybe if this kid misses his dead parents so much, he should join them. And while that might have been impolite, Goro hardly deserves to get the living daylight beat out of him like this.

In his defense, his foster sibling’s constant sniveling had been endlessly annoying. Goro had put up with it for longer than his patience usually allowed, but he had his limits.

All of Goro’s aggression has to go somewhere. If he bottles it all up like his mother, he could end up just as dead as she is. 

Besides, not a single person on this planet loves Goro, not anymore. And if no one loves him, then he has no reason to try to be kind. Not like he did for his mother’s sake. So Goro acts almost as unpleasant on the outside as he is on the inside. He might try to hide it from adults for practical reasons, but he doesn’t bother hiding his personality from other kids. Everyone already knows he’s undesirable, what does it matter if he acts like it? Not even his own mother wanted Goro enough to stay.

So Goro takes each kick like a champ. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t scream, just endures. He considers exposing his face to injury to make for a more convincing look when he inevitably approaches his foster parents about this, but he’s not willing to risk any permanent damage or disfigurements. Besides, having bruises only where clothes hide might actually work in his favor. It will make the beating look premeditated rather than impulsive, which will get this boy in even worse trouble. 

Knowing that he’ll get payback doesn’t stop an uncontrollable rage from boiling in Goro’s gut, however. Goro catalogs every single slight and look of scorn thrown his way. He remembers each and every one, hangs onto them, uses the anger as a crutch to get through the day, and then enacts vengeance. 

Each kick hurts. They’re angry and rushed, and knock the breath out of Goro over and over again. They make Goro clench his teeth and make his muscles ache with the instinct to lash out, but he stays put. He grows horribly nauseous after one particularly hard kick to his stomach, and Goro starts to worry that he might end up more injured than he initially calculated.

But Goro is adaptable, and eventually the pain starts bothering him less and less, until each impact starts to feel like waves of numbness. Starts to feel like a reminder of how utterly alone Goro is in this world.

Which is precisely why Goro is surprised to see Kurusu drop down from the tree branch above him and collide into their foster sibling, effectively knocking both of them to the ground.

Later, Goro will think that Kurusu looked like an angel descending from the sky, but the reality was a lot less romantic. If anything, he looked more like a stray black cat dropping down from a tree to claw at someone’s face, his dark clothes and messy hair only adding to the effect.

It’s not much of a fight. The kid below Kurusu hits his head on the ground, and looks so dazed that for a second Goro thinks he’s dead. But after further examination, he concludes that he’s just concussed.

Before Goro can even blink, Kurusu is grabbing him by the hand and yanking him to his feet, dragging him out of the yard and running. Goro is too stunned to do anything but follow, so he lets Kurusu drag him away until they finally stop at a nearby park.

Kurusu sets him down on a bench and wastes no time, immediately pulling up Goro’s sleeves and checking him for injuries. It’s then that Goro snaps back to reality, because Goro hates touching other people. Their fingers feel like bugs crawling on his skin. Every touch feels like either the promise of pain or a cheap imitation of his mothers affection in the efforts of making Goro obedient and docile. Goro hates both. Goro hates touch and he hates the people who touch him even more.

His body hasn’t registered Kurusu’s hands yet, and he doesn’t want Kurusu to be so close to him when it does, so Goro pushes him away. 

Kurusu blinks, then raises his hands in surrender and gives Goro some space. When Goro scowls at him, Kurusu grins and gives him a wide eyed, faux innocent blink. He truly does look like a cat when he makes that face, mischievous but not ill-intentioned.

“I didn’t need your help,” Goro growls. It might sound like he’s just being difficult, but it’s the truth. He could’ve handled that situation all on his own, just not with his fists like a ruffian such as Kurusu might’ve. 

“Sure,” Kurusu agrees placatingly, which somehow pisses Goro off even more.

Goro feels the shame of having someone his own age carelessly yield to him like one would a child, and his cheeks burn. He’s already lashing out before his brain can catch up with his tongue, “You’re sick,” Goro scoffs, “hurting someone like that. If you wanted to help then you could’ve grabbed an adult instead of impulsively jumping down. What if he has brain damage?”

Kurusu grins, amused, and Goro feels something within himself squeeze. “Please, he’s just fine. That fall couldn’t have possibly hurt him more than your words did.”

“...So, you heard.”

“Well, yeah. I was in the tree that whole time.”

“You heard, and you still intervened?”

Kurusu looks genuinely confused, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, as though the answer is obvious. “Of course.” Goro can practically hear his thoughts. Who wouldn’t have? 

Goro wouldn’t have. Most kids wouldn’t have. Most adults wouldn’t have, if he was being honest. Was Kurusu naive or just brainless?

“That was a stupid thing to do,” Goro says, but there’s no real bite.

Kurusu just laughs. “Not as stupid as essentially telling someone twice your size to kill himself.”

Goro looks away haughtily. “That’s not what I said.”

“It sort of was, though? Horrible thing to say, by the way. What would you do if someone you loved killed themself, huh?”

Goro thinks of rich red contrasting against pale skin, and dry, blue lips. It clouds his mind and forces the emotions he pushes down daily to rise to the surface, ranging from anger to despair. “Shut up,” Goro growls.

“Or what? Are you gonna tell me to kill myself too?”

Goro lunges at Kurusu without warning, fist slamming against his cheekbone.

Kurusu squawks as he falls back, his hands instinctively latching onto the front of Goro’s collar in an effort to keep himself upright. He fails to stay standing, but he does manage to pull Goro down with him. Goro’s knee digs into Kurusu’s thigh as they land and Kurusu’s elbow flails with the impact, hitting Goro’s cheekbone with bruising pressure. Goro doesn’t flinch, opting to instead ignore the pain and throw another punch.

Kurusu fights back. Neither of them know how to fight very well, so each punch and kick is sloppy and uncoordinated, but it’s stress relief Goro didn’t know he needed. Especially with how Kurusu bursts out laughing after a particularly hard punch from Goro, sounding like he’s genuinely having fun. Goro’s grinning before he knows it, and it starts feeling less like an actual fight and more like play. Each blow progressively becomes softer until Goro feels like he’s wrestling with the friend he never had. It’s fun. Actually, honestly fun. Goro can’t even remember why he was mad in the first place.

They grapple with each other until their energy runs out and the sun starts to set. If Goro was asked how a fist fight progressed into laying side-by-side in the grass and chatting while watching the sky, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Goro gives a confused blink as he thinks about how they ended up like this while Kurusu tells him what he thinks about the latest Featherman episode.

“If they actually kill off Featherman Black, I’m going to be inconsolable,” Kurusu says with a straight face. The contrast between his words and his expression make Goro want to laugh.

Goro’s smile makes his bruised face ache, but he can’t stop. “He’s a villain. You’re supposed to hope he doesn’t come back.”

“A villain? I think you mean the best character. But, well, yeah, also a villain.”

“What kind of person roots for the antagonist?” Goro asks even though he also likes Featherman Black. His smile must give him away because Kurusu grins at him.

“He has the most depth. It’s hard not to like a character who struggles so much to forge his own path. He’s a product of his environment, and he’s stronger than anyone else for moving forward despite what he went through.”

Goro’s smile stretches wider. He doesn’t think he’s ever been able to have a conversation with someone the way he can with Kurusu. One conversation is all Goro needs to understand that he actually doesn’t hate this kid. Maybe they could even be-. Well, no. He won’t go that far.

“So if I told you that all the mean things I said were because I’m a product of my environment, would you suddenly take a liking to me?” His voice doesn’t contain as much derision as he intended.

Kurusu rolls onto his stomach so that he’s laying right beside Goro, staring down at him. Goro holds his breath. “I took a liking to you long before you told me that.”

Goro’s face feels hot and his chest feels tight and he hates it, so he pushes Kurusu away from him because the feeling seems to lessen with distance. Kurusu just laughs, rolling onto his back again.

Goro decides that their proximity is too much, and stands up. One look at the sky tells Goro that they’re out past curfew and he can’t help but sigh. “We’re going to be in so much trouble.”

Kurusu just grins, looking content in his spot on the grass. “I’m counting on it.”

And to think that before today Goro had Kurusu pegged as unassuming and unproblematic. Who knew? Even Goro makes mistakes from time to time.

“I suggest you hurry back,” Goro says and begins his own journey. Kurusu was pleasant enough company that Goro can give him advice just this once. Not that Kurusu will follow it.

Wrong again, Goro thinks as Kurusu stands up and runs to catch up to him until they’re matching steps. 

“Let’s hang out soon,” Kurusu suggests with bright eyes.

“That won’t be happening.” Goro deadpans even though he secretly hopes that he can be wrong for a third time.

They do indeed get in trouble. There’s not much to take away from kids who already have nothing, but they’re not allowed to leave the house for a week. Just fine by Goro, and Kurusu doesn’t seem too upset about it either.

That night, when Goro lays in bed, he realizes something.

“Well, yeah. I was in the tree that whole time.”

Kurusu talked big about stepping in, but he had been there from the beginning. If he was there from the start, then Kurusu could’ve intervened at any time. But he chose to let Goro get beat up before stepping in. Probably because Goro had instigated the fight in the first place.

Akira Kurusu. What a bastard (an angel).

Featherman Sundays are sacred. A new episode of Goro’s favorite show airs only once per week, and by god, Goro will not miss a single one. There’s only one TV in the house, and everyone knows that it belongs to Goro when Featherman is on. Any who try to disturb this special time will be terrorized by Goro until they wish they were never born. Few things matter more to Goro than this show, and he will not have some disgusting, drooling child ruining it for him.

As such, when Goro makes his way to the living room, there is no sound. His foster siblings know well enough by now how important it is that they are quiet on Sunday mornings. Goro can be an absolute terror of a middle-schooler when he wants.

The excitement is palpable on his face when he turns the corner and sees the object of his current desire… being guarded by his foster mom. Goro’s smile drops.

“You’re still grounded. TV is for good boys, and you did not behave like a good boy.”

Goro’s going to murder her. Who does she think she is, depriving him of his only joy in his pitiful, pointless life. Goro wants to wrap a rope around her neck and hang her by the ceiling fan. He wants to grab a kitchen knife and throw it at her just to see which part of her it hits. Who is this woman to think she can talk down to him?

Instead of attempting homicide, Goro tries to use his words. He tries every trick in the book: apologizing, pleading, bargaining. None of it works, and a pissed off Goro is promptly sent to his room.

He sits on his bed and stares blankly at the wall, trying to reign in his emotions. It might seem like a small punishment to other people, but to Goro it is everything. Goro doesn’t have any activity he likes, anyone he loves, anything that makes him happy except for that one little children’s show. And even that small joy was taken away so easily.

Goro feels his eyes burn and hates himself for it. He never has any control, never has anyone who cares, never has anyone on his side-

Goro’s thoughts are interrupted by a small knock on his door. At first, he thinks it’s his foster mom, but the fact that she doesn’t barge in immediately after knocking tells him it must be someone else. Goro doesn’t want to see anyone at the moment, but curiosity wins over in the end.

Goro stands and approaches his door, cracking it so that he can peer out. He locks eyes with Akira Kurusu. Goro opens the door wider, eyebows raised. “What are you doing here?”

Kurusu grins and scoots past him, a clunky laptop in his hands. Goro watches, utterly bewildered, as Kurusu plops himself down on Goro’s bed and opens the laptop. “What are you waiting for? Shut the door and get over here.”

Goro, inexplicably, does as told. He sits next to Kurusu and watches him pull up a sketchy looking website.

“You have a laptop?” Goro asks stupidly, then immediately berates himself. Something like a laptop is quite the luxury in the foster care system. It’s a miracle it hasn’t gotten stolen or broken yet.

“Yeah, and you’re the only one who knows, so keep it a secret.”

Goro scoffs, “And why would you trust me to keep your secrets?”

Kurusu’s website finally loads and Goro swallows when he sees what’s on the screen. Featherman.

“Because if my laptop gets taken away then you won’t get to watch Featherman with me anymore.”

“A good argument,” Goro concedes, adjusting the laptop and settling into a more comfortable position. He makes sure the volume is low enough that only he and Kurusu will be able to hear. The last thing they need is to get into further trouble.

Kurusu follows suit, sitting so that his shoulder is touching Goro’s. Goro almost snaps at him for it, but there’s not a lot of room on this bed, and Kurusu did bring his secret laptop…

Fine. Goro will allow it this once. They both have long-sleeved shirts on, so their skin isn’t touching. And now that Goro’s getting used to the feeling of Kurusu’s shoulder against his, it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. Usually, touch makes Goro feel gross and anxious. But this touch… it’s not comfortable per say, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Goro can deal with it for the duration of the episode.

And what an episode it is. Black is alive after all. 

Kurusu’s laptop is a little blurry, and this website is almost definitely illegal if the shady popups are anything to go by, but Kurusu expertly clicks out of them before they can annoy Goro or lessen the Featherman experience. 

When the episode ends, Kurusu shows him that this laptop of his can not only show them the current Featherman episode, but the old ones too. So they start rewatching Featherman from season one. By the end of the third episode, they’re both laying on their stomachs to watch the laptop sitting at the end of Goro’s bed. Goro hardly even notices Kurusu’s leg resting on top of his own.

Kurusu’s a good Featherman-watching partner. He’s quiet when something exciting happens, but he makes surprisingly amusing commentary during the slower moments. Goro almost always agrees with any opinion Kurusu shares, but when they don’t, Kurusu debates with him and actually provides a mentally stimulating challenge.

Goro becomes as invested in his debates with Kurusu as he does the actual show.

“So,” Goro says while Kurusu pulls up episode six, “where did you get a laptop?”

“Kept it from before I was put in the system,” Kurusu answers simply.

“Oh… Did your parents get it for you?” Kurusu’s parents must have really loved him if they bought him a laptop. Goro’s mom could never have afforded such a thing for Goro, but he’s sure she would’ve liked to. It must’ve been hard for Kurusu to transition from relative wealth to… this.

Kurusu chuckles. “Nah, I stole it from my dad.”

So, when Kurusu’s parents died, he inherited this laptop from his father? Goro can’t help but empathize with this kid who he has so much in common with. If anyone knows what it’s like to have a parent die, it’s Goro.

“That must’ve been hard,” Goro says, opening his heart just a crack for the first time in years. As a thank you for sharing the laptop.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Your parent’s death,” Goro says awkwardly because even though he understands, that doesn’t mean he knows how to approach the topic.

“My parents are still alive.” Kurusu looks at him with furrowed brows, appearing very confused.

Goro blinks. “So when you say stole your dad’s laptop-”

“I am being very literal,” Kurusu answers. “I don’t think he knows I have this.”

Goro knows it’s rude, he knows it’s insensitive, but he just has to ask, “If both your parents are alive then why are you here?”

Kurusu giggles like Goro asked something funny. “Got disowned. How about you?”

Damn it. Goro asked Kurusu a sensitive question first, now he has to answer or he’ll look pathetic. “My mother is dead.”

“Oh… Sorry for asking.”

“It’s fine, I asked first.”

“Nah, it’s cool. If you don’t mind telling me, what about your dad?”

That bastard? The one who abandoned Goro and his mother? 

Goro stares at Kurusu and sees him for what he is. A child as undesirable as Goro. Someone just as unloved and just as clever as Goro is, if his silver tongue is anything to go by. Maybe, just maybe, he can share the deepest secret within his heart, just this once. And if Kurusu rejects him after this, then Goro will hate Kurusu more than he’s ever hated anyone before. If Kurusu can’t accept him, then no one can, and Goro will never be vulnerable like this with anyone ever again.

Even if Kurusu tells someone, no one would take him seriously, so Goro takes the leap. “I’m going to kill him one day,” he whispers.

Kurusu squints at him and Goro feels like his soul is being examined and judged. He sucks in a shaky breath.

Kurusu apparently decides he likes what he sees and relaxes. “That’s cool. How are you gonna do it?”

That’s it? No objection? No arguments or protests? That’s cool? Really? “I don’t know yet,” Goro admits, dazed.

Kurusu shrugs. “I hear murder is hard to get away with these days. But if anyone could do it, it’s probably you.”

Then Kurusu presses play on the Featherman episode, returning his attention to the screen. As though he hadn’t just heard a serious confession, as though Goro hadn’t put everything on the line for the opinion of a boy he barely knew. Why did he even do that anyway? Is Goro really so desperate for acceptance that he’d reveal so much to the first (the only) person that catches his interest?

Kurusu rests his head on Goro’s shoulder and Goro finds that he doesn’t mind.

Yes, yes he is.

Even after Goro and Kurusu got ungrounded, they didn’t stop watching Featherman on Kurusu’s laptop instead of the TV. It was more private, more comfortable. Plus, when they were alone, Goro didn’t have to feel embarrassed about the way Kurusu intertwined his limbs with his. Goro didn’t even have to pretend he hated it.

The first few times took some getting used to, but after almost two months of watching Featherman with Kurusu every Sunday, the physical contact wasn’t just tolerated, but expected. Goro would never admit it to anyone aloud, but he started to get a little irritable whenever Kurusu pulled away.

Because, apparently, when one deprives themself of touch for an extended period of time, the first touch they allow themself to enjoy becomes addictive. About a month in, Goro started daydreaming about the way Kurusu would sprawl himself across Goro’s legs, and since then he hasn’t been able to stop. Sundays are sacred, not just because of Featherman, but because it’s the one day of the week that Kurusu pays full attention to him and gives him physical affection. Goro yearns for it, and it makes him feel pathetic.

And then, one brilliant Wednesday afternoon, Goro comes to a realization while sitting at his desk in his final class period of the day. He can hang out with Kurusu any day of the week. He just has to ask. He’s sure Kurusu wouldn’t say no.

God, Goro’s pride isn’t so fragile that asking someone to hang out with him will wound it, right? Right. This’ll be easy.

So when the final bell rings, Goro rushes to the front gate of the school and waits. Kurusu is only one grade below him, so why haven’t they walked home together before? Because Goro always rushed out of the school as soon as possible, that’s why. Goro grimaces at his own idiocy.

When Kurusu emerges, he’s surrounded by friends. Surrounded. What the hell? Kurusu is popular? Why is Goro even surprised? Of course he’s popular. He’s a pretty boy who’s clever and has a way with words, of course he’d have lots of friends. Goro just didn’t think he would be the center of his social group. The one or two dozen people surrounding him are all vying for his attention, it’s almost comical.

When Kurusu finally sees him, he waves his hand and opens his mouth, but Goro interrupts him before he can speak. “There you are, Akira.”

Kurusu blinks, presumably at the use of his first name, which Goro quite purposefully used to convey their closeness to the rest of the group. Goro is closer to Kurusu than any of them, and he hopes to make that obvious. “You finally called me-”

Goro interrupts him again, “Let’s go Akira, we’re busy tonight.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah that's right.” Kurusu plays along.

Kurusu abandons all his other little friends and runs up to Goro with a bounce in his step, and Goro rewards him with a satisfied smile.

“I thought we were all gonna hang out tonight,” one of his annoying little followers whines.

“Sorry guys! I totally forgot, but Goro and I have plans! I’ll catch up with you tomorrow though!”

Goro drags Akira away, his smile widening at the sound of his name in Akira’s voice. The complaints of Akira’s friends fading into the background are music to Goro’s ears.

Goro was planning on calling Akira by his given name soon anyway. He told this boy he was going to kill his father, surely they’re on first-name basis by now. 

Akira. It’s a nice name. Goro likes saying it.

“So,” Akira says as Goro continues to drag them towards their house, “what exactly are our plans?”

“I want to rewatch the Featherman season three finale with you today so that I can prove to you that Purple is actually scary.”

“Purple is probably the nicest Featherman, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But alright.” Akira grins at him, and Goro smiles in return.

“Let’s walk home together from now on,” Goro suggests, his voice coming out a little more demanding than he intended.

“Sounds good,” Akira agrees easily, and Goro breathes a sigh of relief.

When they get home, Kurusu sets up his laptop, presses play, and then Goro is sprawling across Akira’s lap before either of them can say anything. It’s the first time he’s ever initiated contact, but he’s already crossed so many bridges with Akira today, he may as well cross another.

Akira, blessedly, doesn’t say anything about it. He does, however, start threading his fingers through Goro’s hair about half way through the episode, and god, it is heavenly . Goro can’t even remember the last time he was touched like this and it feels so mind-numbingly good he could faint. Each brush of Kurusu’s fingers sends tingles down Goro’s spine that branch out all the way to his fingertips and toes. Goro starts trembling from the pure, overwhelming bliss of it all, and Akira retracts his hand, likely thinking Goro is scared.

“Don’t stop,” Goro means to command but it comes out sounding like a plead. Kurusu acquiesces, returning to his work. Goro breathes a pleased sigh, his attention everywhere but the laptop screen.

Akira’s touch is so divine that Goro, for the first time, starts to think of him as an angel.

Akira never really gets bullied. He’s just not the type to be victimized. His tongue is too sharp, too witty and quick. He’s more likely to befriend his bully than to get beaten up.

Goro hates that about him. 

He hates how Akira is a magnet for all sorts of people. Sure, Akira tends to put plans with Goro above plans with his friends, but it’s still irritating. Goro wishes that Akira would only have Goro, the same way Goro only has him. It’s just not fair.

Akira is much kinder than him, and that’s the most startling difference between the two of them. Where Goro sees an almost concerning amount of himself in Akira, that’s the one thing he lacks. Akira goes out of his way to help people when they’re in times of need, whereas Goro is more likely to put someone in a time of need than to help them out of it.

And yet this is the same boy who approved of Goro’s promise to kill his father. Akira is a never ending puzzle of contradictions and inscrutability that calls to Goro, begging to be solved. Akira is kind, but he’s not exactly a beacon of morality. From what Goro has gathered, Akira’s moral compass has more to do with pleasing the people he cares about than actual right or wrong. It confuses Goro endlessly, but it enthralls him too.

So, yes, Akira isn’t really one to get into a fight. That’s why, the one time he does, it is of course on Goro’s behalf. Goro could cry if he wasn’t so enraged at the sight of someone else hurting Akira.

It means everything to Goro that Akira puts him first. But it also makes him feel so pathetic. Why is Akira protecting him instead of the other way around? But god, being protected is such a good feeling.

Goro’s feelings are contradictory and confusing, but they’re all-consuming. They put fire behind each punch as he and Akira fight the group of kids who were originally going to fight just Goro.

What a pleasant surprise to see that Akira fights just as dirty as Goro does. Neither of them are particularly strong, but they both aim for weak points and are quick to take advantage of hesitation. They compliment each other perfectly. If they had the financial backing to take martial arts lessons, Goro would definitely ask Akira to take them with him.

Originally, Goro would’ve let himself get beaten up and played victim later. But as soon as Akira got dragged into it, it was a different story. Goro can’t let Akira get hurt. He doesn’t have a strategic explanation, he just hates the idea of it. If Akira got hurt by anybody but Goro, he’d kill them.

The boys that tried to bully Goro had apparently been looking for a one-sided beating in which Goro was the one getting beaten, they hadn’t been looking for an actual fight. As such, it isn’t long before they withdraw.

As soon as they’re gone, Akira is turning to him and wasting no time in dragging him to the infirmary.

When they get there, the nurse is nowhere to be found. Perhaps she went home early, or maybe there was a faculty meeting. 

Akira, even more adaptable than Goro, immediately resigns himself to patching Goro up. 

Goro watches Akira search through cupboards and drawers with a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest. His wounds don’t actually need addressing, and even if they did, Goro is more than capable of doing it himself. But if Akira wants to patch up his wounds, then who is Goro to stop him?

When Akira kneels beside Goro on the mattress and starts applying antiseptic to a scrape on his shoulder, Goro sighs. And then he catches sight of a scratch on Akira’s cheek and remembers why he was so angry earlier. Goro grabs onto the collar of Akira’s uniform and tugs him forward until they’re eye to eye, Akira yelping at the sudden pull.

“What were you thinking?” Goro barks. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

“Awwww,” Akira coos, “are you worried about me?”

“Yes!” Goro cries and then immediately shuts his mouth. Normally this would be the part where Goro denies any attachment to Akira even though they both know he’s lying, but confirmation had slipped out before he knew it.

Akira goes quiet and his teasing grin drops. It’s not often that Goro sees Akira looking so serious. Sure, he has his poker face equipped most of the time, but this expression is less blank and more focused. Like he’s seriously considering what Goro said.

Akira sets his hand on Goro’s cheek and directs his face so that it’s more accessible to Akira. Goro’s eyes widen and he sucks in a breath in response to the unexpected movement. 

Akira applies antiseptic to a scrape by Goro’s hairline that Goro hadn’t noticed. It stings, but the steel in Akira’s eyes distracts him from the pain. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Akira mumbles so quietly that Goro almost doesn’t hear it despite being right next to him. “Because nothing would make me happier than getting hurt if that meant you were safe.”

“You would get hurt for me?” Goro asks, disbelieving the sentiment even though that very thing just occurred not even ten minutes prior.

“Goro,” Akira smiles, “I would do anything for you.”

And that. That . That is a sentiment that Goro has never received in his entire life. His mother wouldn’t even stay alive for him, much less do anything. To be honest, Goro doesn’t believe him. But he believes that Akira believes it, and that is more than enough for Goro to come to a realization.

“You love me,” Goro accuses.

Akira laughs. “Obviously. You’re my best friend.”

Heat fills Goro’s cheeks and he has to look away. Best friend, implying that there is no other friend above him. That term seems sufficient. For now.

“I see,” Goro says so quietly that he’s not even sure if Akira can hear him. Akira gives him a patient smile.

The smile that Goro returns is shaky and vulnerable, but genuine. Because for the first time in his life, his identity as an undesirable child is wiped away. Akira chose him. Akira saw Goro in all his cruelty and lack of empathy, and chose him anyway. Akira had so many choices, so many people who would jump at the chance to be Akira’s closest confidant, but Goro won.

Goro opens his posture, positioning his arms so that they’re reminiscent of the pose one might adapt when asking for a hug. He hopes Akira will notice.

He does.

When Akira hugs Goro, it feels so natural and safe that he thinks about closing his eyes and falling asleep right there in the nurse’s office. Instead, he and Akira walk home after returning the medical supplies, and Goro falls asleep in the middle of an episode while Akira plays with his hair.

“Rise and shine, Goro! It’s a special day.”

Goro wakes with a groan of protest, knowing damn well that Akira must’ve set an alarm to wake up before him, because Goro is always the first one awake. He knows exactly what day it is, and he’s not interested in celebrating. What he is interested in, however, is how Akira got his hands on this very well hidden information. “How did you find out, Kurusu?” Goro uses his last name in a show of faux anger.

“I asked your homeroom teacher,” Akira answers with a smug grin.

Goro groans. “I hate my birthday, Akira. I don’t want to celebrate it.”

“But Goro,” Akira groans and tugs at his blanket, “I love your birthday.”

Goro retaliates by tugging Akira onto the bed and giving him a tight hug. And then because he decides that his retaliation wasn’t good enough, he brings a pillow to Akira’s face and attempts to smother him. Akira wiggles out of his grasp as expected. “Don’t be mad! We don’t have to make today a big deal if you don’t want to, but I thought we could at least do something fun. Like maybe a Featherman marathon?”

“We already do that at least once a week.”

“Yeah, but this one will be special! Because it’s your birthday!”

“Fine,” Goro concedes. “I wouldn’t have objected to watching Featherman today with you, regardless.”

Akira grins.

The day passes by in a flash. Their foster parents let Akira make Goro breakfast, and he makes pancakes. They’re all cooked perfectly, golden brown and fluffy. Goro didn’t know that Akira could cook, but it’s no surprise. There isn’t really anything that Akira is bad at. 

After breakfast, Goro drags Akira back to his room to start the marathon, because he doesn’t want to ‘celebrate’ anywhere that isn’t his room. If they try to celebrate elsewhere, people will surely notice that it’s Goro’s birthday. And that would mean people who weren’t Akira would either try to congratulate him, or ignore him. Goro doesn’t know which would be worse, and he doesn’t want to find out.

Overall, the day is uneventful. Akira and Goro intertwine their limbs while they watch all of Goro’s favorite episodes, and it’s not all that different from usual. Akira pays extra special attention to Goro, which is nice he supposes. But it isn’t until the end of the day that anything particularly out of the ordinary happens.

“Goro,” Akira says after yet another episode ends, “I have a present for you.”

Goro bolts upright, accidentally tugging his torso out of Akira’s arms. He turns around to look at Akira, still sprawled out on his bed, unbothered. Goro stares at him silently with narrowed eyes, an odd mixture of suspicion and anticipation apparent on his face. He hasn’t received a birthday present in years. He wants to say that he doesn’t want it, that he’s not looking forward to it, but that would be a lie. And Goro is pretty sure that Akira can see through his lies by now anyway, so he won’t waste his breath.

Akira blinks lazily up at him, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a cat. “Don’t get too excited. Keep in mind, I don’t have money.”
Goro doesn’t care. A present is a present. Expensive or not, Akira is implying that even after going through the unnecessary effort of finding out what day Goro was born, he went through the work of choosing and procuring a gift. How long did Akira think about it? Does he know Goro so well that he chose a gift immediately, not wasting a minute? Or did Akira take his time, keeping Goro on his mind day and night as he pondered over what within his means would make Goro the happiest? Which would Goro even prefer to be the case?

Goro continues to stare at Akira silently until his best friend gets the message, sitting up. Akira reaches into a pocket in his hoodie and pulls out a square of paper about the size of Goro’s hand. It’s laminated.

“Akira will do anything Goro asks?” Goro reads aloud. Underneath the title, in smaller letters, is written, ‘Good for a single use’. Goro almost laughs.

Akira looks away with red cheeks, a wobbly smile fighting to break out on his face, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or embarrassed. “In a couple years, when I have a job, I’ll get you something nicer. But this is the best I can do right now.”

“A promise of compliance is much more valuable than any material offering,” Goro says in an attempt to reassure Akira that he likes it. Then, after thinking about his words more, he realizes that he is entirely correct, as per usual. “Don’t give one of these to anyone else,” Goro says with narrowed eyes. Akira gives an amused nod of agreement and Goro relaxes. 

Goro stares down at the card in his hand. The handwriting is neater than usual, but still unmistakably Akira’s. Goro can’t help but smile. Akira Kurusu keeps his promises. If Goro tried to use this card to make Akira eat a dirty sock, he would do it. This card genuinely is a pretty good gift, but only because Akira is the one that gave it to him.

Maybe Goro can use this card to convince Akira not to hang out with anyone but him anymore. It’s a good idea, but Goro should sit on it. This opportunity shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Goro collapses on top of Akira and relishes in the little exhale that leaves Akira’s mouth when the impact knocks the air out of him. He frowns and makes a small noise of protest when Akira pushes him off. 

“Wait, don’t lay back down,” Akira says. “I still have one more present for you.”

Goro sits up again, his interest piqued. Akira points to the Featherman screen and says, “I, Akira Kurusu, grant you, Goro Akechi, official ownership of this laptop.”

Goro blinks. Even though Akira technically owns that laptop (Akira’s father, if Goro is being extra technical), they basically share it at this point. Goro uses it all the time to help with his homework, and he doesn’t even ask before borrowing it anymore. Akira has made it very clear that Goro can use it whenever he wants. So, not because he hates the gift, but out of genuine curiosity, Goro asks, “Why?”

“Well, you know…” Akira looks away and rubs his arm. “Just, in case I go away or something. The laptop stays with you.”

Overwhelming panic flashes through Goro and he’s on top of Akira before he knows it, pinning Akira to the bed by his shoulders and staring down at him with wide eyes. Goro’s chest feels constricted and he suddenly feels like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. He grits his teeth in an attempt to gather himself, his mouth twisting into something that resembles a snarl. He didn’t- he never thought- “Akira,” he forces out and it sounds strained even to his own ears. “Are you going to leave me?” He sounds almost as desperate as he feels. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Akira goes away. Goro doesn’t want to be alone again. He doesn’t want to be undesired, unloved. Without Akira, there will be no one who understands him, no one who wants him around. Could Goro even live without Akira’s touches, Akira’s voice, Akira’s mischievous grins?

Akira stares back up at Goro with equally wide eyes, his lips parted in surprise. Could Goro get through each day without such pretty silver eyes looking at him like he matters? Goro’s vision goes blurry, and whatever expression he makes snaps Akira into action. He reaches up and hugs Goro, pulling his face into his chest. Goro goes easily, but he doesn’t release his death grip on Akira’s shoulders.

“Relax,” says Akira, “I’m not going anywhere.” Goro silently nods his head into Akira’s hoodie, allowing the sentiment of the words to wash over him and release the tightness in his muscles. He takes deep breaths and calms down, gratefully accepting the comfort that Akira’s words offer him. Even though, much like Akira, Goro has been around the other boy long enough by now to recognize his lies. Goro doesn’t let himself think about it though.

Because to be abandoned by an angel means that only hell awaits.

Goro has had nightmares for as long as he can remember. Nightmares where his scary, faceless father comes to hurt his mother, nightmares about her death, and more recently, nightmares in which Akira leaves him. 

So, when Goro wakes up to a nightmare, he’s not surprised, but he is annoyed. He berates himself for allowing something so insubstantial as a dream to shake him. He can still feel the disgust from this particular nightmare, the nausea and ghosts of hands he has never even touched.

Goro has long since learned how to handle his nightmares on his own. He had to. There was no one to comfort him anyway. All he can do is marinate in his disgust and fear until it passes enough for Goro to go on with his daily life.

Goro shuts his eyes and lays back down, and he finds himself wishing that Akira were here to comfort him. The desire surprises him. Normally after a nightmare, he yearns for his mother, and the cold realization that she’ll never comfort him again grounds him back to reality.

But it’s not like that this time. Akira is just right down the hall. Goro is standing up from his bed and walking out the door before he even realizes what he’s doing. He doesn’t give himself time to feel ashamed or embarrassed, because why should he deny himself warmth and comfort when he has been denied it practically all his life?

Besides , he tells himself as he creaks open Akira’s door without knocking, Akira wouldn’t mind . Goro tries to ignore all the many trinkets and pictures decorating Akira’s room- things Goro’s room will never have. Unlike Akira, Goro’s walls are bare. Akira is Goro’s only friend, and neither of them have a camera. Akira, on the other hand, has a limitless number of friends that all seem compelled to give him everything they own.

Goro would kill them if he could get away with it.

But Goro already feels like shit, he doesn’t want to make himself feel worse. So he refuses to look too closely at Akira’s room, instead choosing to shut the door behind him and flop onto Akira’s bed.

The movement seems to wake Akira up. He blinks awake, confused, eyes squinting to see through the dark. “Goro…?” He whispers.

Goro hums in acknowledgment and Akira relaxes. He lifts up his blanket in offering, and Goro scoots under. He sighs in relief when the warmth of a blanket and another person envelop him.

Akira reaches for Goro’s face and feels his cheeks. Goro briefly wonders if Akira is feeling for tears. If so, then he won’t find any. Goro isn’t the type to cry when he’s upset.

Akira seems to find what he’s looking for anyway, because he pulls Goro’s face closer to his in an attempt to get a closer look. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Goro almost denies that anything is off, but, he did come here for comfort, didn’t he? “I had a nightmare,” he answers honestly.

Akira hums tiredly. “Tell me about it?”

Goro’s throat squeezes. He’s not used to talking about his feelings. He didn’t even really talk about them with his mother, and he certainly doesn’t know how to with a friend. 

“You don’t have to,” Akira says.

“But I want to.”

Akira stays silent, giving Goro time to gather himself. He brushes back the hair in Goro’s face and waits patiently.

“I dreamt of men… touching… my mother.” he says after a long pause. His voice is strained. He doesn’t know how to explain.

“Touching?” Akira prompts.

“She was a prostitute,” Goro explains, “and she would send me to the bathhouse whenever she had a man over. But sometimes I would leave too late or return too early, and I saw-” Goro cuts himself off, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Oh,” Akira breathes.

“They were disgusting!” Goro spits. “I hope they’re all dead now. I wish I could kill them myself. She was just an object to them. They’re why touch makes me sick.”

“But we’re touching right now?”

“That’s different,” Goro argues, “you touch me like a friend, not like-” not like he was just a thing used to get someone off.

“So, if someone touched you in a romantic way, you’d feel grossed out?”

Goro scoffs. “Romance isn’t an actual thing. That’s just a nice way of saying that you’re using someone for your own selfish pleasure.”

“You think so?” Akira mumbles. “I think that touch can be used to relay to someone how much you like them. I don’t think it’s always selfish.”

“How does using someone relay to them that you like them?” Goro argues.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it-” Akira goes silent for a moment, and Goro stares into the dark, trying to make out his face. “Do you want to find out for yourself?”

“...What?”

“If you want, I can kiss you, and you can decide for yourself if it’s selfish.”

“Okay,” Goro’s mouth agrees before his brain can catch up.

Akira’s hands rest on Goro’s cheeks, and a thumb skims over his lips, as though trying to pinpoint them in the dark. Goro’s heart jumps in his chest.

Something soft and warm lightly presses against the corner of Goro’s lips. Goro freezes, and holds his breath. Akira pulls back all too soon, and Goro blinks. The kiss was short and chaste, but gentle and affectionate. It really wasn’t all that different from the way Akira’s other touches feel. 

“Did it make you feel sick?” Akira asks.

“No,” Goro squeaks. 

“Good,” Akira says and wraps Goro in a hug. “Goodnight Goro.”

Akira falls asleep quickly, but Goro lays awake for the remainder of the night, hyper aware of every point of contact between them, face hot. How rude of Akira to leave Goro in this state.

A selfish touch indeed.

Goro is fourteen and a half when his life goes to hell.

The day starts off well enough. His foster parents surprise him with a new phone, insisting that he’ll need one when he goes to high school next year. It’s the nicest thing they’ve ever done for him, and the most attention they’ve ever paid to him.

Goro would care more if he had anyone in particular that he wanted to talk to, but the only person he enjoys interacting with is Akira, who still doesn’t have a phone.

It’s an older model, but Goro supposes it could come in handy. So he keeps it on his person throughout the day. It seems a little broken though, if the red icon that keeps appearing on his screen is any indication.

Goro shrugs it off, promising himself that he’ll research it later. Maybe he just needs to reset his phone or something.

Other than the new phone, the day is uneventful. Akira went to hang out with his school friends, which isn’t unusual, as irritating as it is. 

So after Goro finishes his weekend homework, studies, and showers after going on a jog, he goes to the subway station to wait for Akira. He probably won’t return for at least another hour or so, but Goro will be there to walk him home when he does.

Even though he wishes Akira would hurry, Goro is patient and doesn’t really mind waiting.

That is, until the world turns murky and red. 

His first thought when he finally returns to the real world is that he has to tell Akira. What just happened to him is so unbelievable that Goro almost starts to wonder if he went crazy. No one else would possibly believe him. But Akira will listen. Akira has to, Goro thinks almost desperately as he runs home.

Oh god, he’s so tired. His head is pounding, and there’s dried blood under his nails from how hard he clawed at the ground when he got his- what was it- persona? And his heart is pounding from all the fighting he did, and he’s so confused, and god what happened? Did he kill someone? He thought he found another person, and then they were turning into a monster, and-! It’s not Goro’s fault, right? Surely what happened won’t affect-.

Goro is gasping for breath when he swings the door to his foster home open. He’s prepared to bolt up to Akira’s room, assuming he got home while Goro was in- wherever he was. He comes to a halt when he sees that Akira is already in the main room. Both of their foster parents are there, along with two other adults that Goro doesn’t recognize.

Akira turns to him when Goro walks in, and his face lights up. “Goro!”

One of the adults that Goro doesn’t recognize turns to look at Goro, and Goro immediately sees a resemblance between her and his best friend. His stomach drops.

No.

No no no no no. This isn’t happening.

“Is this the boy you made us wait for, Akira?”

Akira’s face drops at the sound of her voice, and he stares at the floor. “Yeah.”

“You’ve seen him. Now, let’s go.”

“Please give me ten minutes to say goodbye?”

The woman gives Akira an annoyed scowl, then glances at her watch. “Fine. Ten minutes. Hurry it up.”

“No,” Goro says aloud, still clinging to denial.

“Please just come with me,” Akira begs, dragging Goro to his room.

Not a second after Akira closes the door behind them does Goro pounce on him, the adrenaline from the unknown world and desperation driving him to knock Akira to the floor with a crash. Goro holds Akira down by the throat, not yet applying pressure. “You’re leaving me,” Goro accuses, fingers twitching on Akira’s neck. Goro feels so far away from his body as he holds Akira down. It’s not all that different from one of his nightmares. Maybe that’s what this is- a nightmare. Maybe that strange world wasn’t real, and Akira will continue to stay by his side.

“I’m sorry,” says Akira, meeting his crazed gaze with gentle eyes filled with steel.

“If you were sorry,” Goro says as he applies more pressure, forcing Akira to gasp for breath, “you wouldn’t leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Akira repeats, wincing.

“Stop apologizing!” Goro snaps, and then an idea occurs to him. “The card. You said I can make you do whatever I want. I want to use it now. Don’t go, Akira.”

“I’m sorry,” Akira gasps, and Goro loosens his grip enough for him to speak clearly. “I can’t stay. I want to, but I can’t. Next time you use it, I promise I’ll do whatever you say, but I can’t this time.”

“Please,” Goro pleads. Goro Akechi, reduced to begging. Tears flood his eyes in his desperation, in his absolute terror, because Goro is going to have no one . How cruel of Akira to give him a taste of an equal, of a friend, of love, and then rip it away. Akira knew he wouldn’t be here to stay, Goro realizes, remembering the conversation about the laptop. Akira knew, and he still let Goro get attached to him, still let Goro love him.

“You’re such a piece of shit,” Goro tells him, burying his head into his sweater, feeling a tear slip free. Goro hasn’t cried since his mother died, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed because how is this any different? Goro is being abandoned by the one person that showed him love. It’s exactly the fucking same. 

“I know,” Akira laughs weakly. “I know.”

“I hate you. You fucking liar.” 

“I know,” Akira agrees, tilting Goro’s head so that he can wipe a tear away. “You should be mad at me, but I’m not leaving forever.”

“You’re lying,” Goro bites out, his throat tight. He feels fucking sick. He wishes he would get sick and die right here and now so that Akira would feel bad about trying to leave him. He hopes Akira feels horrible for the rest of his miserable life, and all he’s ever able to think about is how bad he feels for leaving Goro behind just like everybody else.

“I’m not lying. You got a phone today, right? Give me your number. I’ll keep it safe, and when I get a phone, you’ll be the first person I call. And then when we’re adults we can meet up.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Akira tilts Goro’s face up so they lock stares. Akira let's Goro see the determination burning in his eyes. “I promise. I’ll come back.”

Goro laughs bitterly. “If you come crawling back I’ll kill you before I let you leave again.”

Akira smiles and holds him tighter. “I’m counting on it.”

Goro is fifteen and Akira is fourteen when Goro receives a message from an unknown number. It’s Sunday morning and Goro is alone in the Tokyo apartment his piece of shit politician father pays for, when his phone buzzes.

At first, Goro startles, because he only ever receives messages when his father needs him to do something. Or, rather, take care of someone.

But then Goro looks at his phone, and an uncontrollable smile splits across his face.

Unknown: The new Featherman episode is on in 2 hrs, u better not miss it

Goro: I wouldn’t dream of it.

Life moves on. Akira becomes a high school student, and Goro becomes a murderer. Strange, how much things can change in such a short span of time. But as always, Goro is nothing if not adaptable.

Everyday is miserable, almost unbearable. He goes to school, he works, he kills, he becomes famous. His only consistent source of joy is Akira’s messages. It makes Goro feel like he’s back to enjoying simpler times, when it was just him and his best friend. It helps that Akira doesn’t know Goro is famous, doesn’t know anything about Goro’s life, really.

Because as much as Goro values Akira, Akira still left him. Goro never got the chance to tell Akira about the Metaverse, and they’ve both changed so much over the last couple years that Goro doesn’t think he still can.

Akira is like Goro’s secret treasure. No one knows about him- not the media, not his fans, not Shido. Talking to Akira on the phone is like taking a trip into a world where nothing and no one exists except for the two of them. It’s the only time that Goro is free of his sins, free of his burdens and responsibilities.

Akira’s voice is getting deeper, Goro thinks fondly as he pulls the trigger of his gun. He sounds a little different every time they call. Goro remembers the calls where Akira’s voice would crack and Goro would kindly pretend it hadn’t. But now Akira’s voice is smoother, deeper. 

Goro wonders if he can visit Akira after he finally murders Shido. All the more reason to get the job done quickly. The election couldn’t come fast enough.

Akira: So I know ur a detective and whatnot, and thats how u pay for your own apartment

Akira: But how did u even become a detective??

Goro: Trade secret.

Akira: Ur insufferable

Akira: I like it.

Akira: But one day I’ll get the truth out of u

Goro: If you want the truth, you’ll have to come and get it out of me personally. I’m afraid that trying to pry my secrets out of me through the phone just won’t do. 

Akira: Fine fine. Just 2 more yrs

Goro: :)

Akira: Good morning Goro <3

Akira: Would u believe it

Akira: If I told you that last night

Akira: I got arrested for assault?

Goro: What?

Goro sent a lot of emails and pulled a lot of strings to lessen Akira’s sentence, but apparently Akira was up against some rich and influential asshole, and Goro could only do so much. Goro tried to find out who it was that had the nerve to accuse Akira, if only so that Goro could put them down like a dog, but to no avail. It was a shame. Apparently this man was powerful enough to keep his name out of the case, otherwise Goro would’ve killed him without hesitation.

The end result was a year of probation, which was an acceptable outcome considering the alternatives. It would undoubtedly have a negative impact on Akira’s life, but Goro was more than happy to take care of him. He did make a lot of money after all, and his current job meant he was set for life, both before and after Shido’s eventual death.

While this was a setback for Akira that enraged Goro on Akira’s behalf, it would be okay. As long as Goro was alive, Akira would always have somewhere to go. This might even be an opportunity to make Akira feel dependent on him. If Akira depended on Goro even half as much as Goro depended on Akira as children… Well, they would be together for a very long time.

Akira: So the good news is that we found a school that will accept me

Akira: The bad news is that the school is in Tokyo

Akira: And I’ll be living the attic of some old guy I’ve never met 

Akira: Starting April

Goro: Akira, are you stupid?

Akira: ?

Goro: link

Akira: What is this?

Goro: My address.

Goro: And yours, starting April.

Akira: Are you serious?

Goro: Dead serious. Did you forget that I live in Tokyo? Why would you live with someone you’ve never met when you could just live with me?

Akira: Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want to be a burden

Goro: Akira, you could never be a burden. I’d feel much more comfortable if you stayed with me.

Akira: Goro, are u 100% sure?

Goro: I’ve never been more sure of anything.

Goro: Although, I should warn you that once you move to Tokyo, you may learn some things about me that I haven’t yet disclosed. And what you learn might inconvenience you, so I apologize in advance.

Akira: What are you talking about??

Goro: Look up, “The Detective Prince.” Or even just, “Akechi Goro.”

Akira: ? K one sec

Akira: UR FAMOUS??

Goro: Haha.

Goro jumps up from his couch at the sound of a knock on his door. He almost runs to answer, but stops himself. He doesn’t want Akira to see him for the first time in four years looking disheveled.

Goro’s hand hovers over the door handle for just a moment while he braces himself. His anticipation is begging him to swing the door open but the part of him that is afraid of rejection keeps him paralyzed. What if when he opens this door Akira doesn’t like what he sees? Goro has changed a lot over the years. He has longer hair and neat clothes. Every aspect of his appearance is molded to make him appear soft and trustworthy- a fantasy for teenage girls and a model youth to adults. So different from the Goro of the past.

Will Akira even recognize him like this?

What if when Goro opens the door, Akira immediately sees the blood staining Goro’s hands? What of Akira is disgusted? What if Akira hates him?

Goro sucks in a shaky breath and twists the handle with a trembling hand. He doesn’t even have time to shape his face into the welcoming smile he practiced before the weight of Akira’s body slams into him, arms swinging around his shoulders. Goro just barely manages to catch him without falling over. Before he knows it, Goro is grinning genuinely, his shoulders relaxed.

He can’t even remember what he was so stressed about. This is Akira. Safe, familiar, comfortable Akira.

“I missed you,” Akira whispers, his breath ghosting across the shell of Goro’s ear. Goro shivers, his hands on Akira’s back involuntarily clutching Akira’s shirt in response to the smooth, velvety sound of his voice. Hearing it in person is nothing like hearing it on the phone. It’s impossibly deep and resonates in Goro’s body, making his knees weak. 

Goro retracts his previous thoughts. Akira is dangerous and unfamiliar.

“I missed you too,” Goro says, his voice higher pitched than intended.

Akira pulls back and grins at him. The distance finally allows Goro to get a good look at him and- oh god what the fuck what the fuck.

Akira is pretty. Very pretty . A mop of black curls falls in his face, looking unstyled but somehow still effortlessly attractive, he’s all lean muscle and perfect build, and his eyelashes are so long, perfectly framing steel eyes staring at him, staring at Goro , filled with excitement and mischief, and Goro thinks he might be losing his mind.

He should say something, he should really say something. But Goro’s mind overloaded and now it’s blank.

“Wow,” Akira says, running his eyes up and down Goro’s body in a way that makes Goro shiver, “I already knew what you looked like since I watched your interviews, but you look even better in person.”

How unfair that Akira already knew what Goro looked like and was prepared, while Goro got absolutely blind sided by Akira’s changes. 

“Thanks,” Goro says dumbly. He tries to pull himself together, but he doesn’t know how. Normally in this sort of situation he’d pull forward his detective prince mask, but doing so in front of Akira somehow doesn’t feel right. His Metaverse assassin personality certainly isn’t a better alternative.

Goro wants to just be Goro in front of Akira, but it’s been so long since he’s been himself in front of someone else that he no longer knows how.

And now Goro’s facing the consequences. Staring stupidly at his impossibly pretty childhood friend is not how he wanted this meeting to go.

Akira gestures to his suitcase and vulnerability bleeds into his smile. “For the record, it’s not too late to tell me to go live elsewhere if that would be easier for you. I promise I won't be mad.”

Goro feels himself soften. Akira has been rejected and unwanted by so many people that he’s preparing himself for rejection before Goro has even said anything. But he doesn’t need to do that with Goro, not ever. Goro will be there for Akira, just like Akira was there for him.

And unlike Akira, Goro won’t leave. Goro knows it wasn’t Akira’s fault, but a part of him still holds resentment. Resentment towards Akira, and towards the world, for showing Goro how easy it is to take away everything he loves. 

Goro won’t let it happen again. Things are different now. Goro has power, money, reputation- everything he needs to keep Akira by his side. If someone tries to pull them apart again, Goro will kill them. 

“Shut up and make yourself at home,” Goro says. He hopes Akira gets comfortable, because they’re going to be living together for a long time. If Akira thinks it’s just for the year, he’s sorely mistaken.

“A Featherman marathon?” Akira asks with a slight smile from the comfort of Goro’s couch. His cheeks are a bit flushed from the effort of moving his stuff into Goro’s spare room. Goro can’t even describe with words the immense satisfaction he feels at the sight of Akira settled into their home. 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Goro asks. “We used to do this all the time.”

“Hmmm… I dunno… Featherman doesn’t really suit your new image…” Akira says playfully. Goro throws a pillow at him and Akira laughs.

His laugh sends tingles down Goro’s spine. Goro shivers.

He pushes past the sensation, instead focusing on pulling up Featherman, starting from the episode they last watched together years ago. Goro thought about how badly he missed Akira’s commentary every time he watched a new episode, and now he finally has a chance to make up for lost time. And now, instead of hiding away in a small room, they have an entire apartment to themselves. Goro has fantasized about this very scenario embarrassingly often.

When the episode starts playing and the lighting is just right and Goro can finally settle into the couch, he almost throws himself on top of Akira, tangling their limbs just like he used to. 

Instead, he freezes. He glances at Akira and pulls himself into an upright sitting position in a manner that hopefully looks natural.

The hug that Akira greeted him with was one thing, but intimate and casual touch is another. Things aren’t the same as they used to be. They’re both much taller, with longer limbs and defined jawlines. Akira’s body is unfamiliar to him now. Each touch would be a whole new experience, and Goro doesn’t know how that thought makes him feel. Besides, Akira might not be as comfortable with touch as he used to be. A lot can change in four years, especially when those years are spent transforming from a child into an adult. 

Akira, apparently, doesn’t hold the same reservations. He wastes almost no time, resting his head on Goro’s shoulder, unfazed by the changes brought on by the passage of time. 

Goro’s breath catches in his lungs. Slowly, he gets used to the new touch and his muscles relax. It’s really not that different from how it used to be. The weight of Akira’s head on his shoulder feels the same as it used to, and their height difference hasn’t changed much, even though they’ve both gotten taller. Yes, this touch is the same as it used to be. Just… bigger.

Goro doesn’t realize how wrong he is until several episodes later, when Akira starts to fall asleep, presumably exhausted from his journey and all the events that led him to Goro’s home.

The deeper into sleep Akira sinks, the more he entangles himself with Goro. Goro doesn’t put up any resistance, allowing himself to be maneuvered as the sleepy Akira wishes. 

Goro finally understands what a fatal mistake he’s made when Akira is completely asleep on top of him, his face buried in the crook between Goro’s shoulder and neck. Touching Akira doesn’t feel at all like how it used to. It’s not even a little bit the same. Akira’s weight on top of him makes Goro’s breathing go ragged and his face red. Akira’s breath against Goro’s neck used to comfort Goro, reminding him of Akira’s presence. Now it makes him feel restless. Each puff of hot air makes Goro feel like electricity is dancing along his skin, making him feel hot as tingles spread from his neck all the way to the tips of his fingers. Goro is trembling slightly at the new and unfamiliar sensation, but Akira is too deep in sleep to notice Goro’s current predicament.

Akira’s hands brush across Goro’s torso as he readjusts, and the shocks from that touch collide with the shocks emanating from Goro’s neck until it’s almost too much to bear.

Goro is apparently far more touch starved than he was four years ago. His aversion to touch worsened throughout the years, as his experiences with being touched shifted from getting abused to getting beaten into the ground by shadows. Even when he’s able to get past that irrational discomfort, attempts at affection from others are ruined by the knowledge that they’re trying to get something out of him. Whether it be fame, status, or the favor of a detective prince that exists only as a facade- he hates it. He even started wearing gloves to avoid it.

But he’s not wearing gloves right now. He didn’t think he’d need them with Akira. And he doesn’t, really. But Akira’s touch unexpectedly makes Goro feel discomfort- just not in a way that Goro has ever felt before.

Akira’s fringe brushes against Goro’s neck and Goro suppresses a sigh. That, at least, is a familiar sensation. Goro always loved the feeling of Akira’s hair. He can’t help but wonder if it’s still as soft as it used to be. Falling victim to his curiosity, Goro reaches a hand up to the back of Akira’s head and gently plays with a lock of hair between two of his fingers. It’s as soft as expected. Goro takes deep breaths and focuses on the feeling of Akira’s hair to calm himself. He thinks he might finally be starting to relax.

Until Akira’s leg shifts in his sleep and Goro feels friction against his groin. He jolts with a strangled gasp and oh fuck oh god he can’t do this anymore. 

“Akira,” he hisses, shaking Akira’s shoulder with just enough force to wake him.

“Mmmm?” Akira hums sleepily.

“If you’re going to sleep, you should go to bed.”

“I fell asleep?” Akira asks as he sits up with a yawn.

Goro feels relieved by the loss of Akira’s touch as much as he mourns it.

“Well, I’m glad to find that you still make for a good pillow,” Akira grins.

Goro grits his teeth. Maybe living together won’t be as easy as Goro thought.

The next two days are everything Goro imagined they would be and more. He and Akira cook together, they clean together, they hang out together. It’s perfect. It’s the life Goro imagined for himself after he killed Shido. Only, by the good grace of whatever deity still has some pity for Goro, he gets to live this fantasy earlier than he thought he would.

And that’s exactly why Goro is nervous. Goro doesn’t get things like good grace, or luck, or a happy life. He never has. Something is bound to go wrong. This may very well be a curse disguised as a blessing. What if Goro’s fans find out about his new roommate and harass Akira? What if Akira finds out just how fabricated the Detective Prince act is? Or, god forbid, what if Akira finds out about the crimes Goro commits for Shido?

As pleasant as living with Akira is, having him around is a major risk. Both to his revenge, and to their relationship. This is why Goro was planning to wait until Shido was dead to live together. But fate brought Akira to Tokyo, and Goro couldn’t have possibly allowed him to live with someone else. Much less a stranger.

Goro sighs as he sets out their uniforms for tomorrow, listening to the sound of whatever Akira is cooking sizzling in a pan. It smells nice. Goro can’t remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. He took the weekend off so that he could help Akira get settled in, but he didn’t expect Akira to be so good at household tasks. Akira ended up helping Goro make the apartment feel like home more than Goro helped Akira. Goro smiles a little at the thought.

Then he looks at Akira’s uniform and his smile shrivels into a look of distaste. He hates that Akira has to go to Shujin. If he had it his way, they’d go to the same school just like in the old days. The Detective Prince is known for keeping others at a distance, but he’d make an exception for Akira. Who knows, maybe having a best friend would be good for his reputation. It would make it seem as though it’s possible for others to breach his walls, which could make him come off as friendlier. Though, the only person who has ever succeeded in that task is Akira, and Goro has no intention of letting another person that close ever again. He doesn’t need nor want anyone else.

Unfortunately though, Goro’s prestigious school would never accept someone on probation. It really is a shame.

Goro wonders if Akira will like Shujin. He tries to imagine him in his new uniform at a new school, surrounded by friends just like he was in middle school. The thought makes him sick. He hopes that Akira hates his new school. He hopes that all his classmates treat him like he pollutes the very air they breathe. He hopes that Shujin will make Akira so miserable that he  spends every waking second he’s at school yearning to go home to their apartment, yearning for Goro.

“Dinner’s ready, Darling~,” Akira calls playfully from the kitchen. Goro jolts, fighting not to react strangely. It’s so selfish of Akira to call out to Goro so affectionately when he doesn’t actually mean it. Really, he just does whatever he wants without any regard for how Goro feels. It’s so unfair of him to look so unruffled when Goro has to work so hard to restrain himself from reacting in a way that could ruin things between them.

…Does he want to ruin things between them?

Does Goro want to cross a line? Does he want to push Akira? Break the unspoken rules between them? The very idea makes his heart race, and Goro isn’t sure if it’s from exhilaration or anxiety.

Would Akira leave him if Goro pushed too far? He could try, but Goro already told him that if he came back he wouldn’t be allowed to leave again. 

But Akira never paid much mind to rules, did he? It’s only the years of practice behind Goro’s belt that stop his face from betraying his anxiety. If Akira really tried to leave him, did Goro have the power to stop him? With so many tasks that needed doing and so many eyes watching his every move, was Goro even capable of giving chase? Not even the Metaverse could help him keep Akira from leaving. The only thing his powers are good for is killing, so interacting with Akira’s shadow is out of the question. And if he tried to trap Akira in the Metaverse, there was the risk of Akira either getting hurt, or unlocking his persona and leaving anyway. 

Goro hates the feeling of powerlessness that overtakes him. He’s so good at making people disappear, and so impossibly bad at making them stay.

Goro turns to look at Akira and locks eyes with him. Akira stares curiously, likely wondering what’s taking Goro so long.

There are so many things that could go wrong right now. All it would take is one misstep for Akira to slip from his grasp and disappear from his life forever. Goro needs a way to make Akira stay of his own volition, a way to ensure Akira doesn’t leave even if he learns something he shouldn’t have or sees something unseemly.

Akira approaches Goro and places his hand on his forehead. “You feel fine,” he mutters mostly to himself. Then he sits next to Goro, clasping his hands together so that he doesn’t fret. “Is something wrong?”

Yes, Goro thinks. Yes, everything is wrong. You could walk out the front door right now without any intention of ever coming back and I’m not sure if I could stop you.

Goro can’t tell him what he’s thinking but he also doesn’t want to lie to Akira, so he finds himself frozen.

Akira seems to take his silence as a rejection because he pulls back a little. “You don’t have to tell me,” he assures. “But I’m always here if you want to talk and-” Akira shrinks into himself, fingers fidgeting. Goro can only imagine what’s going through his head. He’s probably anxious to rid Goro of whatever discomfort he’s experiencing, to fix all his problems, but if he knew the extent of what was at risk, he’d surely change his mind. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Akira says.

And then it hits Goro. The solution is so simple, he can’t believe it took him this long to reach it: He just needs to make Akira as guilty as he is. How could Akira condemn, how could he leave him, if he was just as bad as Goro was?

For the first time, Goro looks at Akira with the intention of ruining him. He can’t find it in himself to feel bad about it, though. Ruining someone is only a crime if you leave them alone afterwards. But Goro won’t leave Akira. He’ll stay with him no matter what. No matter how Goro hurts him, it will all be for the sake of Akira, for the sake of their relationship.

Besides, Goro thinks as he stares into Akira’s worry-filled eyes, look at how badly he wants to help me. 

“Well,” Goro says, adjusting his posture so that he looks hesitant. He deliberately glances to the side a few times, so that it seems he’s struggling to maintain eye contact. He hopes to come off as shy or embarrassed, and one glance at Akira tells him that it works. Akira has always been able to see right through Goro, but that was years ago. Things have changed. Goro is a professional liar. For the last four years, every single day Goro has lived has been a lie. He lies so much that lies and truth have started to blur together to even Goro. No matter how well Akira knew Goro, at the end of the day Akira is just a normal teenager. And Goro is a criminal. “There is something.”

Akira leans in, full attention on Goro, ready to hear out whatever request he has.

It’s such a relief that Goro can deceive Akira now. That will make this whole process so much easier. He never wants to lie to Akira if he can avoid it, but he’s sure he can accomplish everything he needs to accomplish without directly lying. It’s not like displaying an emotion he isn’t feeling is a breach of trust.

Goro opens his posture, spreading his arms slightly in the same subtle gesture he always made as a kid when he wanted Akira to hug him. 

Akira dives in and laughs a bit. Akira’s arms still feel like home, even if the proximity makes his heart pound.

Akira probably thought it was silly for Goro to act shy when they’ve already hugged, but that was okay.

After all, Goro needed to start small if this was going to work.

Foot-in-the-door technique: a compliance tactic that aims at getting a person to agree to a large request by having him or her agree to a modest request first.

Goro doesn’t get home until much later than he hoped. He wanted to hear about Akira’s first day at school, but Akira was probably in bed by now. But then again, the time stamps from their previous text messages suggest that Akira is a night owl, so there was a possibility that he was still awake. Goro selfishly hopes that’s the case as he opens the door to his apartment.

God has been suspiciously kind to him lately, Goro thinks when he sees Akira sitting on their couch. And then he retracts that statement because something is wrong. Akira is sitting on the couch, and he’s awake, but he’s not doing anything. He looks like he’s doing the sort of contemplation people do when they’re reconsidering all their beliefs and values.

Something happened. Something definitely happened, and it was bigger than his classmates treating him unkindly.

Goro closes the front door and rushes over to Akira, scanning him for any physical evidence of whatever had happened. He sees nothing out of the ordinary.

“What happened?” Goro asks and it comes out far more demanding and interrogatory than intended.

Akira looks up at him, startled, as though he’s just now noticing his presence.

“Akira,” Goro tries again, pleading, “what happened?”

“...You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Goro feels a sinking feeling in his gut because somehow, he just knows what happened. Things really have been too good lately. He should’ve known. It hasn’t even been a week and already everything is falling apart. 

Goro keeps his face even, sitting beside Akira on the couch and placing his hand over his. “Try me.”

Goro watches Akira have an internal battle with himself, and the side that trusts Goro apparently wins because Akira turns to him with resolve shining in his eyes. “Promise you won’t call me crazy?”

Goro promises, and then sits right next to Akira for the better part of an hour as Akira tells him in detail about entering the Metaverse and unlocking his own persona. Goro stays quiet for a long while, and Akira watches him anxiously. It must seem as though Goro is considering Akira’s words, but in reality, he’s planning his next move.

He’s not as surprised as he thought he’d be that Akira found his way into the Metaverse. Their fates are intertwined, after all. If Goro ended up in the Metaverse then it was inevitable that Akira would too, eventually. It’s just, Goro planned on introducing Akira to the Metaverse at his own pace. He had decided only a day prior that he would make Akira as guilty as he was. It was just his luck that his plans were ruined just like that.

Goro holds in a sigh, a new plan already formed.

Akira finally breaks the silence, unable to bear it any longer. “Do you believe me?”

“I do,” says Goro and he watches all of the tension leave Akira all at once, like a marionette getting its strings cut. Goro fixes his eyes on Akira, readying himself to absorb every micro expression Akira has in response to what Goro will say next. “I believe you because the same thing happened to me.”

Akira jolts, back straightening as his eyes zero in on Goro’s face, waiting for further explanation.

“You entered a palace, which means you essentially entered someone’s distorted unconscious mind. Nothing there is real except for the palace ruler. Everything and everyone else is fake- a representation of the ruler’s perception of reality.”

Akira stares stupidly at Goro. It’s cute.

“You asked me a while back about how I became a detective so young? Here’s your answer. Palace rulers, shadows, they don’t lie. When I investigate a person’s shadow, I can learn truths or find clues that could’ve never been found in the real world.” It wasn’t really a lie, more like a mistruth. He had indeed used this method from time to time when he was assigned to cases unrelated to the mental shutdowns.

Goro is going to go on, he’s going to tell Akira that he’s special, that the two of them are special together. He’s going to tell him that this Sakamoto kid just got dragged into it by Akira, and for Sakamoto's sake, Akira shouldn’t associate with him anymore. But before he gets the chance, Akira tackles him in a hug, and Goro returns it with a wide, surprised blink. 

“I’m sorry,” Akira says, voice shaking, body trembling against Goro. “I’m so sorry.”

“Slow down,” Goro says, giving Akira’s back a soothing stroke. “I don’t understand what you’re apologizing for.”

“I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m so sorry that you had to face that dangerous world all by yourself. I would’ve done anything to stay with you if I had known what you’d go through.”

Goro stares at Akira, bewildered, wondering how he should respond. A part of him wants to tell Akira that it’s not his fault, that he couldn’t have known. Another part of him wants to ask Akira where that famous composure of his went, in response to which Akira would surely laugh and pull himself together. 

But wasn’t this what Goro wanted? Hadn’t he always wanted to see Akira like this? Blaming himself, tearing himself into pieces for abandoning Goro? As much as he cared for Akira, he had never overcome the resentment he felt towards him for leaving. So even though he could take this opportunity to make himself out to be a reliable and forgiving figure in Akira’s life, he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “I’m sorry you left, too.”

Akira trembles harder, and Goro can practically see the waves of guilt racking through his body. He revels in it.

Goro buries his face in Akira’s shoulder and holds him tighter, the source of Akira’s distress and his comfort, all at once. The corners of Goro’s lips turn up, a small, satisfied smile hidden from Akira’s view.

“I’ll accompany you into the Metaverse from now on,” Akira says like a promise but it sounds like yet another apology.

“It’s dangerous,” Goro warns half-heartedly as though he wasn’t planning to bring Akira into the Metaverse himself not even a day ago.

“I don’t care,” Akira says, resolute.

“Fine then,” Goro agrees perhaps a bit too easily.

Akira really is such an angel.

After Akira goes to bed, Goro takes a three hour nap before waking, getting himself ready, and heading out the door. The sky is still black. Goro is no stranger at waking up before dawn, but it would be more apt to say that it’s still the middle of the night. But, well, he’s used to that too.

He was going to sleep a little longer, but ended up deciding it was better to be safe than sorry. He had work to do, and it was now or never. There were too many unknown factors that needed to be eliminated for him to take control of this situation- take control of Akira.

Goro wasn’t sure of the depths of Kamoshida’s crimes. Having a distortion didn’t always equate to being a bad person. From Akira’s story, it most certainly sounded like Kamoshida was scum, but it didn’t matter. Regardless, the existence of his palace was a problem. If Sakamoto had access to the palace, then that could spiral into something that would be much harder to handle later than it was now.

So, of course, Goro was going to eliminate the palace. That should leave Akira and him as the only Metaverse users, and all would be right with the world. Sakamoto sounded like a follower rather than a leader, so without Akira’s assistance, he was unlikely to get much involved with Metaverse business. Nor was he smart enough to figure out the metanav. Which meant after the palace was removed from the picture, so too would Sakamato.

Easy. And the keywords were all too easy to figure out too, from listening to Akira’s story. 

Kamoshida’s palace was a pleasant surprise. The shadows were easy pickings, and the low security level meant Kamoshida’s shadow was still freely wandering around near the entrance. A low security level meant that even a palace ruler wasn’t much of a challenge. A well aimed bullet and small scuffle and it was over. Goro was yet again grateful for his ability to delay the mental shutdown, timing it for a couple weeks out. That would give him time to settle Akira into the Metaverse life before he became suspicious. It would, of course, be odd if Kamoshida died right after Akira told Goro about the Metaverse.

Easy. Too easy.

“So this is Mementos?”

Goro is too stunned to respond as he takes in Akira’s outfit. Goro doesn’t know what he expected from Akira, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised by the attractive thief look. Still, those high heels are doing something to his brain.

He’s so thankful that his mask hides his hot cheeks.

He was initially unsure about showing Akira his metaverse outfit, but in the end, he couldn’t find a legitimate problem with the idea. Even if his outfit was a bit intimidating, and admittedly a bit embarrassing to wear in front of other people who would remember it in the real world, there was nothing technically wrong with it. Besides, Akira had known him too long to be startled by the design. His weaponry and outfit had been inspired by the cartoons they watched as children, and there was no way Akira didn’t recognize that. His fourteen-year-old brain had combined his then idea of what a powerful character looked like with the sheer rage he felt at the world and this had been the result. 

“Indeed,” Goro confirms.

“And I can enter whenever I want?” 

“Well, yes. But I’d prefer if you refrained from coming here when I’m not with you. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then will you stop coming here by yourself? I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

Goro doesn’t want to tell Akira that he’s so weak compared to himself that Goro is more likely to get hurt protecting Akira than he is wandering Mementos on his own. He also doesn’t want to lie and say he won’t come alone anymore when he most definitely will be assassinating shadows by himself while Akira is still getting used to the Metaverse. So he simply gives a soft hum and hopes Akira will interpret it as an affirmative.

“Can I also go to a palace whenever I want?”

“Only if you’ve gone to it before or if you know the keywords.”

“Then why couldn’t I go back to Kamoshida’s?”

Goro eyes him. “Did you try?” he asks, a hint of accusation in his voice.

“Well, yeah. Ryuji said he was gonna go with or without me, so I decided to go too and make sure he didn’t get himself hurt. But when we tried to return, we couldn’t.”

“I told you not to go into the Metaverse without me,” Goro sighs.

“But… Ryuji.”

“Just call me next time,” says Goro so that Akira will stop sounding like a kicked puppy.

“Alright, I will. But don’t dodge the question. Why couldn’t we go back into Kamoshida’s castle?”

“Because I removed it from the nav.”

“You can do that?” Yes, by killing the palace ruler.

“It’s one of my abilities.” Killing, that is.

“Will I be able to do that too?”

“If you grow strong enough.” Strong enough to kill a palace ruler.

Mistruth after mistruth.

“I’m going to catch up to you soon,” Akira promises.

Goro doesn’t bother hiding his smile. He doesn’t doubt Akira. Akira is his rival, his only equal. It’s only natural that Akira will catch up to him, maybe even give him a run for his money.

Which- Goro quickly realizes after watching Akira negotiate with a shadow until it becomes his persona- will be happening much sooner than he originally predicted.

With an ability like that, Akira could potentially become even stronger than Goro, given time. And with their abilities combined…

As always, his Akira is perfect for him.

“I think I made a new friend,” Akira tells him while they’re eating dinner.

“Is that so?” Goro asks, turning away from his meal to give Akira his full attention.

Akira continues, unaware of Goro’s raised hackles or the way his knuckles are turning white from how hard he’s squeezing his spoon.

“Yeah, I think so. Her name is Shiho. She was one of few people who were kind to me despite the rumors going around. Last time I saw her, she looked frail and tired. But when I talked to her today, she seemed much happier. I think it’s because Kamoshida hasn’t come to school for a couple weeks.”

Of course. Even if his body was alive, his brain was as good as dead. He wouldn’t be doing much of anything ever again. Come to think of it, his expiration date was in a couple days, wasn’t it? Well, no matter. Akira still didn’t know enough about the Metaverse to suspect him of anything. And by the time he did, he’d be in too deep.

“It’s always a good idea to get along with your classmates, if it’s possible,” Goro comments neutrally because that is objectively true, even if the thought makes Goro miserable.

“Yeah, I thought so too. Shiho was talking about introducing me to her friend Ann, since she thinks we’d get along. Ann actually sits in front of me in class, but I don’t think Shiho knows that. But Ann seems nice and I’m hoping that I can become her friend if Shiho helps. I think school would be a lot more bearable if I had a friend in my homeroom.”

“I see,” says Goro and he hopes Akira doesn’t see how strained his smile is growing. “Just don’t get too close to them. If something were to happen and they got pulled into the Metaverse, it could potentially be very dangerous, or even deadly.”

“Yeah,” Akira agrees, although he looks dissatisfied.

“Unless,” Goro starts, as though the possibility pains him, “you no longer want to traverse the Metaverse with me. I’d understand if that were the case.”

“No,” Akira objects without hesitation. “I told you that I wouldn’t let you go in alone. You’re my number one priority.”

Goro doesn’t have to fake his smile, because even though he expected that answer, it was still very pleasing to hear.

“Honey, you’re home,” is the first thing Goro hears when he walks into his apartment after a long night of detective work. Goro’s body relaxes, stiff muscles turning into jello in an instant. It’s almost scary how much sway Akira has over even Goro’s body.

“I’m back,” Goro says fondly as abandons his briefcase and then plops down on the couch next to Akira. He tips over onto his side, head landing on Akira’s thigh. Akira reaches out to play with his hair like it’s second nature and Goro releases a small, pleased sigh.

Some minutes pass in comfortable silence as Akira absentmindedly gives Goro the attention and care that Goro has spent his whole life seeking. This sort of casual intimacy isn’t a big deal to Akira, but to Goro it’s only everything he ever wanted. He melts, nothing but putty in Akira’s hand. Akira doesn’t even notice but that’s okay. If Akira doesn’t realize how much power he holds over Goro, then that’s for the best.

“Hey,” Akira starts, his steady voice hiding all of his secrets and emotions, like it always does.

“Hmm?” Goro prompts, trying to resist his oncoming exhaustion so that he can appreciate Akira’s ministrations for as long as possible.

“Kamoshida’s dead.”

“What?” Goro asks even though he knew this conversation was coming.

“The teacher that bothered me on my first day, the one with the palace.”

“I know who Kamoshida is. I’m just making sure I heard you right. He’s deceased?”

“Yeah.”

It’s good to hear, filling Goro with the satisfaction of a job well done. But Akira’s thoughts are likely moving in a different direction, and Goro wants to know what’s going through his head. And, well, he wants to make sure that Akira isn’t feeling too hurt. Kamoshida’s death was necessary, not to mention gratifying. But he didn’t want Akira to suffer as a result. His feelings were wasted on people like that. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know. I can’t shake the feeling that it’s my fault.”

Well, Goro thinks, in a way it is. If Akira hadn’t told Goro about him, he’d likely still be alive. But since he can’t say that and no response feels like the right one, Goro merely opens his arms in invitation. They readjust until Akira is falling into his embrace, taking comfort in Goro’s touch. This is how it should be. Akira with no one to depend on or confide in except for Goro. Goro takes comfort in Akira’s distressed form, feeling that all's right with the world.

After Akira gathers himself, Goro says, “You shouldn’t feel bad about his death. Your description of his palace made it abundantly clear that he was a pedophile.”

“I know. But I feel this inexplicable sense of responsibility.”

“You’re not responsible for him. Don’t mourn a monster, Akira.” The only monster you’re allowed to mourn is me, he doesn’t say.

“I guess,” Akira agrees reluctantly. “Do you ever feel an irrational sense of responsibility for other people?”

“No,” Goro says honestly, “you’re the only person I feel responsible for, and that’s not irrational.”

Akira blinks. “You feel responsible for me?”

“I suppose. I feel extremely uncomfortable when I imagine you residing in an inadequate residence with subpar living conditions, hence why I opposed the idea of you living in a stranger's attic. I feel satisfied whenever I’m able to do something for you. And I worry for your safety.”

Akira looks at him like he personally hung the stars in the sky, just because Goro cares about him. It’s funny really, considering how easy it is to care about Akira Kurusu. And yet, unfortunate circumstances have led him to believe no one cares but Goro. A rare stroke of luck on Goro’s part. The attention is addictive and Goro feels like he’s melting. His stomach feels pleasantly warm and ticklish and Goro thinks this is the closest he’s ever gotten to happiness. Only Akira could ever make him feel this way.

If Akira looks at him like this just because Goro feels responsible for him, he wonders how he’d react if Goro told him about all the other feelings he has. Maybe one day.

“Do you feel responsible for me, Akira?”

“Yeah,” Akira says. “I don’t feel responsible for anyone the way I do for you.”

“In that case, whenever you start to feel responsible for someone else, can you try to redirect it towards me?” Goro says it like it’s a request for Akira’s sake. Like he asks it of Akira to relieve him of guilt and stress. Like it’s not purely selfish on Goro’s part.

Akira nods, and doesn't even question it. And why would he? He’s agreed to so many of Goro’s harmless little requests lately, what’s one more?

Akira has a natural talent for anything Metaverse related. The pace at which he has improved is almost scary, really. And under Goro’s tutelage, that unnerving pace is accelerated even further. How fortunate that they’re on the same side. Akira really is the only good thing he’s ever had.

And he’s getting so good with his gun. He was never all that hesitant to fire, but what was once messy shooting has transformed into deadly aim. He can’t snipe like Goro can, but he’s exceedingly useful in battle nonetheless.

When Goro sees how quick Akira is to pull the trigger, and how reflexively Akira aims to kill, he decides it’s time to move forward with his plan.

“What's that swirly portal-looking thing?”

“Shall we find out?” Goro asks even though he knows exactly what it is, exactly what conditions need to be met for one to appear, exactly who’s inside. His next target awaits him, and this time Akira is by his side.

“I guess so,” Akira agrees, though he sounds a bit unsure.

Goro keeps his eyes on Akira’s face, watches his expression morph into one of curiosity when he sees a person upon entering the gate. Most of the shadows in mementos are very obviously less than human. But shadows like these? They’re no different from palace rulers, and Akira surely realizes that immediately.

Goro gives Akira the space to speak to the shadow, to listen to him confess all his crimes, everything that connects him to Shido. It’s better if Akira knows what a worthless person this shadow belongs to. It will help ease his guilt later. 

When the shadow finally shows its true colors and begins the fight, Goro closes the space between them, takes the shadow’s first attack head on. It hurts like hell, but Goro can take it. This, too, will help Akira cope later. With that hit, this fight is officially self-defense. Or so Goro will be able to tell Akira later.

When the shadow is low on health, Goro acts like he slips up, allowing himself to take a critical hit to a vital spot. The shadow positions itself to release an attack that will surely kill Goro while he’s knocked down and vulnerable.

He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face as he hears the sound of Akira’s gun, shooting at the shadow’s head relentlessly.

In Akira’s panicked state, he doesn’t stop shooting, not when the shadow reverts to the form of its human counterpart, not when even that is reduced to ash. He doesn’t stop shooting until his gun is empty of bullets.

Just as Goro taught him.

Shoot first, ask questions later. Think of the gun first and Recarm second. It took so much training to get Akira to this point. So much effort to make him this aggressive and protective of Goro.

“Holy shit,” Akira breathes after healing Goro and helping him up. “That shadow wasn’t like the others.” Akira hesitates. “That won’t have any… lasting consequences, will it?”

Goro gives him a vague smile. “Even if it did, would that really be such a bad thing? You heard his shadow, he commissioned assassinations. If anything bad happens to him, I’d call that karma.”

“You’re right, but I still hope that didn’t have any effect on him. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

Goro considers his words carefully, knowing that what he says next will lay the foundation for their future. “Akira,” Goro says, “you protected me.” Goro locks eyes with him, letting genuine vulnerability shine through. “Am I worth so little that you’d prioritize a worthless piece of trash like him over me?”

“No,” Akira assures immediately, “no, of course not. No one is more important to me than you are. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

Akira’s hair is a mess, and there’s blood drying on his clothes and skin. He looks like a wreck, and Goro can’t help but think of how his mother looked after she’d killed herself. Even then, she had been beautiful in Goro’s eyes. At the time he’d decided that the image of her bloodied corpse suited his idea of a fallen angel: someone so lovely and pure falling victim to corruption until they’re irreparably broken.

Akira’s current appearance suits that image too, but it’s different. He’s alive and well, but he’s still broken. A beacon of justice and good intentions, tainted by Goro’s touch. Tainted by death and murder. Poor Akira, he’s done something unforgivable, and he doesn’t even know it yet. Goro can’t help but look down on him as he thinks about how ignorant Akira is to his own fall. He has no idea the magnitude of what he’s just done. Even so, he looks at Goro like he’s worth every sacrifice, like breaking the wings on his back is trivial to him in comparison to Goro’s existence.

Goro can’t help it. He grabs Akira by the lapels of his coat and yanks him close. Despite his forcefulness, the kiss Goro gives Akira is gentle. He kisses Akira like he’s something precious, like he’s someone worth treasuring. He treats him with care, even though Akira is now just as sullied as Goro is, just as unredeemable. Akira is too tainted now to be truly loved by anyone normal. But that’s okay. He never needed anyone but Goro anyway.

Akira doesn’t resist him. His compliance doesn’t come as a surprise. Akira could never resist Goro for long, not in the past, and certainly not now.

It doesn’t take long for Akira to start kissing him back. Their pace is slow, leisurely. There’s no need to rush, they have all the time in the world.

Goro’s grip slowly relaxes on Akira’s coat until he releases it entirely. One hand slides up to softly cup Akira’s cheek, and the other slides down to rest on Akira’s waist. Goro pulls Akira closer, and gently tilts his head to the side, taking advantage of the new angle to deepen their kiss.

Akira releases a small breathy sound that sends a jolt of electricity down Goro’s spine and makes heat pool in his gut. He pulls back before he gets too carried away and smiles, lips just inches away from Akira’s. The sight of his flushed cheeks and red lips paired with the sound of Akira’s heavy breathing is almost enough to tempt Goro into leaning back in, but he knows that it’s not the time yet. It wouldn’t be good to ask too much of Akira too soon.

He pulls back further to keep himself in check, and he and Akira stare at each other for a long moment while they catch their breath.

Goro examines Akira’s face closely, searching for any sign of what he might be feeling, but Akira’s expression is inscrutable.

At last, Akira speaks. “Kiss me again?”

Oh.

Alright then.

Goro doesn’t even know why he bothers holding back when Akira’s personality is like this. He throws his previous reservations out the window and leans in again, capturing Akira’s lips once more.

They kiss like that for a long while more, only stopping when Akira’s stomach grumbles, bringing them back to reality and reminding them of how much time has passed.

Goro doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy in his life.

He’s going to kiss Akira again. That’s the only thing that’s on Goro’s mind as he stands in front of the door to his apartment, mentally preparing himself. He’s going to kiss Akira again when he opens this door. He hasn’t kissed Akira even once since their visit to the Metaverse, and that was a few days ago. Which is unacceptable because every day Goro doesn’t kiss Akira feels like he’s wasting time, like he’s doing something wrong.

He’s waited for so long to have Akira. Every year he thought about having him, it didn’t matter how. He would’ve been happy with friendship or a familial relationship if that was what Akira wanted, so long as they were together. Or so he always told himself. But Goro is pretty sure that somewhere deep down, he always yearned for this- kissing Akira, touching him, making him his in every way that mattered.

That’s why his heart flutters with anticipation as he places his hand on his door handle. His stomach drops in that contradictory way that feels simultaneously pleasurable and dreadful- like his body can’t tell if he’s flying or plummeting to his death. It’s somehow not so different from how he feels when he kills. 

He can already envision Akira’s face as he turns the handle. He can see the way Akira’s eyes will light up when he sees Goro, shiny and bewitching like liquid mercury. And just as toxic after what Goro has done to him. Just as deadly to those foolish enough to touch what they were never meant to.

Maybe Akira will give him a composed greeting even though those eyes of his- alive, warm with affection- betray him. Or maybe he’ll give Goro a smirk or a mischievous grin as he teases Goro, endearing and obliviously tempting. 

Goro feels the corners of his mouth lift at the thought, shaping into the small and genuine smile that he reserves only for Akira.

The door swings open and Goro’s smile drops.

Akira is sitting at their table watching Goro’s entrance with dispassionate eyes. Glacially cold and hardened like steel.

Something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong. What is it? Why is Akira looking at him like that? Akira has never looked at him like that ever. Akira is warm, Akira is home, Akira loves him. Akira shouldn’t be looking at him so coldly. It goes against everything Goro has ever known, everything Goro has ever worked for.

“Don’t,” is all Goro can think to say. Don’t look at me like you don’t care anymore. Don’t look at me like everything we’ve been through means nothing.

 

“Honey, welcome home.”

“I’m back.”

 

“Goro Akechi,” Akira exhales like he’s seeing him for the first time and he doesn’t like what he finds. “You should sit down,” Akira says, voice stronger now. “I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself before I leave.”

Leave .

Goro’s eyes land on the packed suitcase by Akira’s leg that he failed to notice when he first entered, too distracted by his frigid gaze.

Before I leave.

No. No, Akira couldn’t leave. Goro had worked so hard and for so long to prevent that very thing from happening. Everything he did was for his revenge, and his future with Akira that came after. He wouldn’t let that dream crumble. Not ever. He’d given Akira far too much of himself for Akira to walk away now. If Akira wanted to leave again then he never should’ve come back, not after Goro warned him four years ago. Goro wouldn’t let him go, not a second time.

Goro feels himself go as cold as Akira looks, and he sits across from Akira, docile for the moment. He can be obedient for Akira while Akira says whatever it is he needs to say. But if Akira tries to leave, Goro will ruin him.

Goro and Akira stare at each other in silence, two walls of ice that hide raging storms of emotion inside a calm exterior.

“He’s dead,” Akira says. “It was on the news.” They both know who he’s talking about, so there’s no use playing dumb. Goro knew this confrontation would happen sooner or later after Akira’s kill in the Metaverse. He’d counted on it. But he hadn’t planned on Akira acting like this. He wanted Akira to shatter beneath the weight of his own guilt so that Goro could pick up the pieces. He should’ve known that Akira wouldn’t break that easily. Even so, threatening to leave was going too far.

“You make it sound like that’s my problem,” Goro says without any trace of remorse.

“Isn’t it?”

“Why would it be?” Goro asks.

Akira clenches his jaw. “Because you killed him.”

“Really? Is that what you’re telling yourself?” Akechi rests his cheek in the palm of one hand, and with the other he taps the table impatiently with his index finger. “Because last I checked, you’re the one that pulled the trigger.”

Akira glares at him weakly and Goro can tell that he hit a sore spot. Akira hides it well, but Goro can tell he’s feeling unsure. Really, why did he bother picking a fight if he was going to crack this easily? Akira’s guilt complex makes him so incredibly easy to manipulate.

But Akira steels himself again despite the irrational guilt that must’ve been eating at him for a while now. Goro’s almost proud of him. He wouldn’t be Akira Kurusu if he went down without a fight. Akira inhales shakily and says, “You entered the gate with the intention of killing him. You knew he would die, you knew that he’d- that he’d have a mental shutdown.”

Goro’s lips tilt up, amused. “And how, pray tell, would I have known that?” He always knew that Akira would put it together. The moment he learned about the Metaverse, it was inevitable.

“Because you’ve…” Akira’s composure is falling to pieces. He looks sick. “Because you’ve done it before. You’re responsible not just for this mental shutdown, but for all of them.”

“You really think I’d do that?” If it had come from anyone else, it would’ve been a question born of hurt and betrayal. But when Goro asks, it sounds like a test. He’s eager to see if Akira passes.

Akira looks away, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. “Yeah, I do.”

Oh how good it feels to be known. No one else would ever think Goro Akechi, the ever righteous Detective Prince, capable of such atrocities. It’s so nice to be reminded that Akira looks past the masks and sees Goro in all his vindictive, vengeful justice.

“Akira,” Goro sighs. He says the name like a prayer, like that one word alone can convey all the yearning he’s endured over the years. His affection for Akira feels something akin to having his unwilling heart lovingly torn from the confines of his chest for Akira to hold, bloody and raw. It’s messy and irreversible and neither of them meant for it to go this far. It’s as euphoric as it is excruciatingly painful.

Goro stands, crossing the short distance between them to stand behind Akira’s chair. He hugs him from behind, his arms thrown over Akira’s shoulders in a loose embrace. Goro rests his cheek in Akira hair. He makes sure every touch he offers Akira is heartbreakingly gentle. “Akira,” Goro sighs again and it sounds like a confession. His breath ghosts across the shell of Akira’s ear and Akira shivers.

“Do you think my sins,” Goro says lovingly, “erase yours?”

Akira freezes against him and Goro smiles.

“No matter how you dress it up,” Goro continues, “you killed someone. Blame me all you want, but it’s an undeniable fact.” Goro kisses the crown of his head. “You’re a murderer.”

“No,” Akira denies.

“Yes,” Goro argues and then lightly kisses his temple. “Do you think you’re any better than me after what you’ve done?”

“I never thought I was better than you, Goro.”

Goro tilts Akira’s head up and to the side, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Then why are you acting like this?”

Akira’s eyes dilate at the contact and he inhales sharply. “I’m trying to understand.”

“You’re smart, Akira. You can figure it out. You have all the pieces you need to put it together.”

Goro affectionately watches Akira’s face as the gears turn, and smiles when he can see the exact moment Akira reaches the answer. “Revenge?” Akira chokes out. “The revenge you mentioned when we were in foster care?”

“My smart Akira,” Goro croons and then kisses him again, long and deep.

Goro pulls back and watches with satisfaction as Akira pants, eyes hazy as he makes a futile effort to gather his thoughts.

“Has your opinion of my ambition changed since back then? Do you think I’m evil for wanting justice? Do you hate me now, Akira?”

“I could never hate you,” Akira says, too fast, too vulnerable for it to be anything but the truth.

“Then don’t talk about leaving me, no matter how upset you are. Talk to me instead, just like this.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Akira says with a broken laugh.

“Because it is that easy. Why wouldn’t you stay with the one person that actually cares about you?” Goro is entirely genuine when he asks. Everyone who Akira has ever loved has abandoned him. But Goro is different. Goro’s here to stay.

“Do you actually care about me? Or are you just afraid of being alone?”

Goro can’t believe Akira would even ask that. Of course he’s afraid of being alone. He’s afraid because Akira barged into his life and into his heart despite Goro’s best efforts to keep him out. If Akira hadn’t clawed and climbed his way onto the pedestal Goro placed himself upon, then he’d still be perfectly fine on his own. There wouldn’t be anyone for him to miss that wasn’t six feet under ground. Goro would’ve been fine on his own if he hadn’t known what it was like to have Akira at his side, challenging him and supporting him.

Of course Goro is afraid of being alone. And it’s all Akira’s fault. But Akira makes it sound like anyone could replace him. So blissfully ignorant of the Akira-shaped hole he carved into Goro’s chest.

He wants to tell Akira just how much he cares but no words could possibly suffice. So instead of talking, he reaches into the blazer of his uniform and pulls out an item that he’s kept on his person everyday since Akira moved to Tokyo.

“Akira will do anything Goro asks. Good for a single use,” Akira reads aloud and then smiles unsteadily, disbelieving laughter bubbling out of his chest.

“Stay,” is all Goro has to say for Akira to break. 

“The card. You said I can make you do whatever I want. I want to use it now. Don’t go, Akira.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I want to, but I can’t. Next time you use it, I promise I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Alright,” Akira surrenders.

Goro has seen an angel fall three times in his life. The first was his mother, bloodied and broken. The second was the only person he cared for, sullied with the blood of another because he was foolish enough to get caught in the wake of a wicked mortal like Goro.

The third time Goro sees an angel fall, it looks like this: Akira Kurusu, dropping to his knees, fingers scrambling to loosen Goro’s belt.

He looks exhausted and emotionally drained, brain empty of thoughts other than the single-minded pursuit of pleasing Goro. His hair’s a mess and his shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor. His lips are kiss-swollen and his neck and chest are covered in bites and hickeys. 

Goro feels so incredibly lucky when Akira finally takes his cock into his mouth. His Akira is so kind. Feeling hopeless and pushed to the breaking point like this, and all he can think about is how Goro’s feeling. Only Akira would deal with his problems by taking care of other people. Humans are selfish at their core and when they reach their limit, their true colors will always show. And these are Akira’s colors. Beautiful, selfless, perfect. 

It’s unreal. That’s why Goro can’t view Akira as human. That’s why he can only view him as an angel. He defies human nature. His very existence is a threat to how Goro perceives mankind, so Goro simply places him in an entirely different category.

An anomaly. A rarity. All Goro’s.

Goro stays with him the whole night. He stays with him while the weight of what Akira has done settles. He holds Akira close, comforts him as guilt destroys him. Kisses his tears away. Fucks him until he forgets. 

It’s so much more than Goro ever got when he first caused a mental shutdown.

When Goro returns home the following evening, his apartment is empty. He ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach, deludes himself into believing that Akira had something to do after school, that he’ll be home soon. When midnight comes around, Goro tells himself that maybe Akira needed to be alone for a while. Maybe he turned off his phone, and that’s why he’s not receiving Goro’s calls. He certainly didn’t block Goro. He wouldn’t.

When he gets back, Goro will scold him. He’ll tell him how worried he was, and Akira will understand. Akira always understands. He’ll apologize, they’ll make up, everything will return to normal.

Goro stays up the whole night waiting. Akira never returns.

Another night, and then another.

At first, Goro panics. He searches everywhere he can think to search, calls everyone he can think to call. He even goes so far as to use his connections on the police force to get access to surveillance camera footage.

He finds nothing.

Akira doesn’t go to school, he doesn’t visit any of the spots he frequents. It’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth.

Goro goes through Akira’s stuff and finds that a few things are missing: Akira’s wallet, a couple changes of clothes, and his toiletries.

It’s around then that the rage finally hits. This betrayal hurts so much more than any other ever has. He feels as much grief as he felt when he lost his mother.

Abandoned. Goro was abandoned. Akira abandoned him again. He said he’d stay with Goro, but he lied.

It feels like the remainder of his soul has been ripped into shreds. He’s so unworthy of love that not even the angelic Akira Kurusu was willing to stay. There really is nothing left for him in this life.

If Akira can’t love him, then no one can. If Akira can’t keep his promises, then no one will. Everything suddenly feels so pointless.

It’s really not even worth living anymore.

So Goro’s plan changes: exact revenge on Shido, kill him, find Akira Kurusu, kill him too, and then after all he set to accomplish is finished, he’ll kill himself.

It’s been almost three weeks since Akira’s disappearance when Shido summons him. And Goro is a good attack dog, even now, so of course he comes when he’s called. 

He’s empty, a shell of his former self. If Goro even had a soul, then it was never much of one. But now? Now he’s really soulless. A cold-hearted killer with nothing and no one to live for except for a revenge that’s starting to feel more and more pointless by the day. But he’s come this far, sacrificed this much, and it’s far too late to give up now.

So Goro finds himself standing in front of Shido soon after, TV smile on his face, not a hair out of place. Goro feels sick. He has a headache and he’s nauseous. He hasn’t been sleeping well and he can’t even remember the last time he had a meal. But makeup works wonders, and his mask is infallible as always.

Their meeting is as fast and efficient as always. Shido gives orders, Goro follows them. But this time Shido seems different. He’s more paranoid than usual, and he presents to Goro a list of targets so long that Goro has to do a double take. Shido is frantically trying to eliminate every connection that could conceivably trace back to him with a desperate recklessness that seemingly came out of nowhere.

And then, it hits Goro.

He knows exactly where Akira Kurusu is.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” is the first thing Akira says to him when Goro arrives on the bow of Masayoshi Shido’s ship. 

Goro came as soon as he realized, so it didn’t take him long to arrive. But every second it took Goro to get here was spent imagining what he would do to Akira when he finally met him. Would he let his rage and sense of betrayal overtake him when he saw Akira? Would Goro fight him to the death, would he defeat him in a climactic battle that represented everything they both fought for? Or would Goro kiss him, slow and sweet, and then kill Akira lovingly, because Akira would no doubt let Goro do even that if he thought that was what it would take for Goro to achieve happiness.

His foolish Akira. His stupid, self-sacrificing, perfect Akira. Goro is going to tear him into pieces.

Or at least, that was the plan. But when Goro’s eyes land on Akira for the first time in weeks, all he can do is freeze. Akira’s leaning against the ship’s railing, composed as always. But there’s an underlying tension to his shoulders, a buzz of nervous energy under his skin that anyone else wouldn’t have been able to notice. Not even Akira’s mask can hide his tired eyes or his pale skin. He hides it as well as Goro does, but Goro can tell Akira is exhausted and miserable. He has no doubt that Akira can tell Goro’s in much the same state.

“How are you here?” is what Goro asks even though that’s not really what he wants to say. 

Akira shifts his weight onto his feet, pushing himself off the railing and taking slow steps towards Goro. “You said it yourself. I had all the pieces I needed, I just had to put them together. Every single mental shutdown target had one thing in common: they had connections that could be traced back to Masayoshi Shido, or one of his acquaintances.”

Goro laughs, emotional and a bit unhinged. “I can’t believe it took me this long to realize you were here. I underestimated you, Akira. So, what do you think of my father’s palace? Isn’t it disgusting?”

“Yeah,” Akira agrees, “it is.”

“So, now that you’ve seen it, what will you do? What’s the point?”

Akira reaches into his coat and pulls something out, presenting it to Goro. Five letters of referral. Goro sucks in a sharp breath, paling as his eyes dart up to Akira’s face. “We’re going to kill your father.”

Something in Goro snaps. He lunges at Akira, tackling him to the ground and placing his hands around his neck, applying just enough pressure to be uncomfortable. It’s reminiscent of Goro’s reaction all those years ago, when Akira told him he was leaving. Goro gnashes his teeth, his face inches from Akira’s. He’s in a position of absolute power. He can end Akira whenever he so chooses, but Akira puts up no resistance at all. “You must think little of me,” Goro bites out, “if you think that you can walk out of my life without a word, and then ruin everything I’ve ever worked for. Do you think my revenge is a joke? Do you think I’ll let you take this from me too?” He’s already taken everything else Goro had. His heart, his humanity, everything.

“Yeah,” Akira chokes out, despite the pressure around his throat. “Your revenge is a joke. It was doomed from the start.”

Goro feels like he’s shattering, like he’s falling to pieces. He doesn’t want to hear this. Not now, not from Akira. He feels so fragile, so broken in a way he never has before.

“Don’t say that,” Goro says. It’s supposed to be a command, maybe even a threat. But it sounds like begging even to his own ears. He unknowingly loosens his grip on Akira’s neck.

“Goro,” Akira says so lovingly that Goro falls to bits. Akira could never pretend to love someone, not the way Goro can. Akira’s always genuine, even when he hides behind that poker face of his. When Akira looks up at him with warmth like this, it comes from his very soul. Goro hates the power it holds over him, hates how easily it melts his anger away. “Goro, don’t you think it’s time you faced the truth?”

“Don’t,” Goro pleads. He’s never begged for anything in his life but he’s about to start.

“He already knows that you’re his son, Goro. He’s using you. He’s going to kill you long before you can kill him. If you ask around on the ship, you’ll see for yourself.”

Goro buries his face in Akira’s shoulder and swallows down a sob. He doesn’t want to hear it, not after all he’s done. If he wanted to know how pointless his efforts were, he would’ve asked around Shido’s palace years ago. Deep down Goro knows the truth, that if it was revenge he really wanted, he would’ve killed Shido years ago.

Akira sees right through him, reading his mind in that way only Akira can. Akira reaches his arms up, wrapping them around Goro’s back and pulling him closer. “You don’t need him,” Akira says. “He doesn’t deserve to be your family. You can find a better one.”

Deep down Goro had always sought out Shido’s approval. He’d always yearned for the love of the father he’d never had. He’d hated himself for it. He’d disguised it as revenge so that he wouldn’t have to examine his own weakness.

Pointless. Everything was pointless. The mental shutdowns, his detective work, his image, it all meant nothing. He wouldn’t even admit to himself what he was aiming for, and now all his work hadn’t amounted to anything but a pile of worthless mistakes, sins that can never be forgiven. It was so much easier to ignore it all, to forge ahead as though everything was going to plan. Why would Akira do this to him? Why would he make him face it?

Akira holds him tighter, wipes away the tears that Goro didn’t realize he was shedding. He didn’t even know he could still cry like this. “You’re not alone, Goro. You have me. You’ll always have me. And if that’s not enough, you can find more people who will love you just as much as I do. You can stop playing Shido’s game. If you need to take revenge to be happy, then just take it.”

“You’re lying,” Goro accuses. “I don’t have you. You keep leaving.” As he says it, a surge of anger overtakes him, but he is immediately placated by Akira placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I promised I’d be here to stay, and I meant it. I didn’t mean to disappear on you. But I needed you to see the truth, and I knew you wouldn’t listen unless I did something drastic.”

Akira’s right and Goro hates it. If Akira had tried to suggest this plan instead of forging ahead, Goro likely wouldn’t have listened. But now, here on Shido’s ship, with the path forward already cleared by Akira’s own hands, it was easy. Akira always made everything so easy.

“Okay,” Goro agrees. “Okay, let’s kill him.”

Akira smiles at him, proud. Goro’s suddenly sure that he’s made the correct decision. Any choice he and Akira make together is sure to be right, even if it’s wrong. 

 

It’s so easy after that. So much easier than Goro ever imagined it would be. It’s a straight line to the representatives chamber, where Shido resides. Akira kept the security level low during his time on the ship, which makes it even easier.

Shido’s not expecting them. Well, he’s always on his guard, so he’s not completely taken by surprise. But his shadow admits that he never thought Goro would betray him this soon.

It’s a tough fight, but Shido’s shadow wasn’t prepared, and he and Akira work together like they’re two halves of a whole. Goro’s offense is unforgiving, and Akira supports him and keeps him healed.

With Akira by his side, it’s not the challenge it otherwise would’ve been.

And when all is said and done, and Shido is on the floor, awaiting the attack that will end his life, Goro can’t bring himself to shoot him. It’s not that he’s too weak, it’s that there’s a much better alternative.

So Goro places his gun in Akira’s hand and hugs him from behind, pressing his chest to Akira’s back and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Please, Akira?” 

Akira takes a trembling breath. “Are you sure?”

Goro’s never been more sure of anything. To have Akira kill for Goro of his own volition, fully aware of what he’s doing? It’s worth so much more than pulling the trigger himself. Because if Akira, who was supposed to be an angel of justice, knowingly kills someone just to make Goro happy then how could he ever leave him? There could be no greater proof of Akira’s loyalty.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

 

Bang.

 

Goro can’t help but take the time to kiss Akira, even when he knows the palace is about to collapse. When he pulls back, Akira looks at him. He looks like he can hardly bear the weight of his sins, his eyes clouded by guilt, but his affection for Goro still shines through. “Goro, I’m in love with you,” Akira confesses with what could either be the best or worst timing in all of history.

A splash of Shido’s blood is drying on Akira’s cheek. Goro reaches out to wipe it off with his thumb, but only succeeds in smearing it. He smiles sweetly at Akira, the most genuine he’s ever been. 

“I know.”